Waiting for the Other Shoe
The hardest part about the way my marriage ended is trying to live without always waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I mean, things are great now. Really great.
But things were great before.
Sometimes I wish that my ex had been a jerk to me. I hear about these spouses that put on a good show in public and then belittle and guilt-trip their partners behind closed doors. I read about growing tension in discussions and growing distance in the bedroom. I see couples at dinner barely containing their contempt for each other and eyeing the door for escape. Whenever I used to see or hear about those behaviors, I grew ever more grateful for my husband, who was always gentle, generous, patient and attentive towards me.
But now I feel otherwise.
Because while I was happily wrapped in his arms, he was sliding the blade of betrayal through my ribs. Between intimate conversations, he was spreading horrific tales about me to others. And apparently the attention turned towards me only lasted as long as I was in the room.
If he had been a jerk to me, it would be so much easier now. I would know what to avoid and what warned of a problem. But a covert jerk is difficult to spot.
And that’s what makes me wary about that other shoe.
My rational brain works to calm me. Brock is not my ex. He is direct and faces problems head-on instead of trying to tuck them away. He is naturally loyal and reviles deception. I grow closer to him every day and can now, with certainty, say that I trust him. Plus, he knows if he screwed me over, I’d have to write about it:)
Apart from him, I now trust myself to recognize similar patterns or behaviors that may hint at trouble brewing beneath the surface. I will never be so naive again.
But the rational brain isn’t always the one holding the reigns. And my emotional self keeps looking up, ready to dodge the flying boot.