Lee never bashed me for being 230 pounds (to my face anyway). I was finished with God talk but my new obsession was my weight. I whined and whined about how heavy I was and Lee told me that I was still beautiful and that he loved me. He coddled me often and made suggestions for losing weight. I didn't want to hear it though. There he was, trying to help me and his nice comments made me get defensive. Eventually he just listened and didn't speak because each time he did I'd throw the Pam affair in his face. It'd been eleven years since his affair by now and for the first time in years, I allowed what happened then to control me. All of a sudden I didn't trust my husband again. He'd ask to go out now and then and I'd freak thinking he was looking for another. My husband asked me to go to the beach with him and the kids or to a company picnic or party and I always turned him down; I choose instead to stay home and wallow in self-pity. I took our children to home school functions and would go to the mall or camping but anything requiring me to be around those we knew or wear a bathing suit, or shorts for that matter, I would have nothing to do with it. We did have fun at home, but it wasn't enough.
No wonder my husband stopped asking me for dates, he grew sick of being turned down. We were back to cutesy names, foot rubs and tickles, and cuddling but it just wasn't the same. I brought up my weight issues on a daily basis, happy one minute and down the next. And, at the same time, Lee started talking more frequently about his childhood issues, saying he was not a good person, thinking the children and I would be better off without him (in a suicidal way), and he became very short-tempered-- often. He dealt with depression a lot differently than me. I would lose it and scream occasionally when the children bickered and got on my last nerve but he was throwing mantrums over silly things like me buying the wrong cereal which resulted in an entire gallon of milk being thrown out to the driveway along with the cereal box.
Something was off, something was wrong, there was a deeper issue with Lee. Had I not been so wrapped up in myself for three years I would have recognized the signs earlier...
We were both 36-years old in 2006 when my husband began to change. He started fretting about hair loss and wanted to feel young again. An awesome and talented guitarist, he wanted to join a rock band. Considering the ordeal I'd put my family through, I felt obligated to let him. I loathed his band mates as they were single, twenty-somethings and seemed very self-absorbed. I worried my husband would want to live the single life being around these young single men, yet I didn't stand in his way. The next thing you know he's asking about getting another tattoo in addition to the ones he had previous to us marrying. I love his skin and knowing he wanted a monster-sized one bothered me, and I told him so, but I wanted to support him--he ended up with a dragon on his arm.
Although Lee and I supported each other emotionally, we started arguing more. I began resenting him for being in a band because now he seemed self-absorbed, life was now all about him and what made him happy. I bitched about practices, I griped about the time he came home after gigs, everything. He expressed feelings of being smothered and mothered. Even though I wasn't happy about it, I "allowed" him to go out with the guys more often and hit the bar after work once in awhile. We'd have a huge fight when he came home drunk off his ass at 2-3 a.m. but make-up within a few hours.
Lee started jumping on Ryan for practically everything that came out of his mouth. Poor Ryan couldn't do or say anything right. When he and Lee would play football, catch or frisbee Ryan was back inside within a few minutes because his father made him feel stupid for missing the ball or throwing it wrong. Their relationship was never close but now it was getting worse. Mine and Lee's relationship was getting worse too, I started having to walk on egg-shells in fear of pissing him off over even minute things like burning dinner or not having the house clean or having crazy legs (restless leg syndrome) at night. His mood swings were so often that even Nicole, a true Daddy's Girl, found herself in fear of setting him off, i.e., he'd lie down for a nap without telling anyone and she'd run down the hall and wake him with her footsteps or he'd have a headache and her loud, happy speech annoyed him. Instead of saying, "Baby girl, could you please keep it down, I have a headache", he'd scream, "Damnit, Nicole, be quiet! Why do you have to be so loud?!"
Who the hell was this man taking over my husbands body?
To be continued...