In Which Heads Are Shrunk

An eventful week, with the cherry on top being last night's meeting. I cannot possibly share all in one post, so I'll just have to choose a piece. The meeting will wait until Sylvia passes along the pics.

Let's talk therapy. Earlier this week, I got to meet my wife's therapist. I had been told that J wanted to meet me, and she had never treated someone this long without meeting the spouse. As soon as I agreed to it, doubts began to form. Paranoia isn't always misplaced. When I finally brought up these doubts with the missus, she was genuinely surprised. No ambushes were planned.

On the appointed day, we had our session. I was put at ease quickly, when J told my wife that she was being dismissive of me. J was very nice, and did a good job of guiding us back to the big picture when we got stuck on petty gripes.

One of the more important discussions concerned how I might be able to have more quality time with my family. My work schedule limits my options, of course. I did admit that staying up very late is at least partially about withdrawing from my wife. The other half of that, unspoken here, is a need to feel connected to people that understand my gender issues, and accept me despite (or because of) them. Gender did not come up in the session, but if we follow up it will have to be broached. It isn't the entirety of me, or our problems, but it is intertwined in much of it.

I also learned that my wife has no idea what constitutes a compliment. We were discussing the five languages of love. One that I need is praise, to know that I am doing things well. When asked, I could not recall the last time I had received a compliment. The missus jumps in, protesting, that just two days before we had had a long talk, and she made a point of telling me that she does not hate me! Warms the cockles, no? Happily, while my mouth was hanging open, stupified, J made it clear that she had not heard that as a compliment. Time for some remedial work, methinks.

The session was very satisfying, and has made me consider working on my marriage. The missus made it clear that her emotional distancing from me was not a reflection of anger at me. Rather, she is overwhelmed by life, and intimacy had come to seem like work to her. Pull away, and your work load is lightened. She wants that to change, and frankly, I do too. I had assumed that we were destined to remain roommates until an escape presented itself. Maybe not. The next several weeks will be telling, and I will share what I learn.