Just before M got into bed last night, he descended into that horrid pit of second-guessing in which we’ve found ourselves mired for so much this year. “So, yes,” he began, as if our previous conversation had paused for only a moment, “we’ve bought this house and it’s… it is a great house for us. But… but we gave up everything for this. I mean, we’ve left our friends, my family, everyone…” His voice rose a bit as he carefully didn’t mention the two most important people we’ve left.
“I know,” I jumped in, hoping to stop him, but then couldn’t think what more to say.
“My drums haven’t been touched in months…”
“I know.”
“I don’t think they’ll ever get played much again.”
“Oh no!” I protested, “No! Of course they will! You’ll find a group again, you’ll find other players…!”
“But we had all that. We had friends, good friends, a whole group of friends. The pub at the weekend. Band and playing and laughing your bollocks off on a Wednesday night. Gigs. You had your friends and all the stuff you did. I mean, isn’t that what life is supposed to be about? We’ve bought a house, but… it’s only bricks and mortar. Life is supposed to be more than that, isn’t it? Life is about friends and… living, isn’t it? We gave all that up for… a house.”
I said nothing and he got into bed. He was forgetting that a year ago, we were both looking around us at our crammed, cramped rental and cursing that we had to step over things just to walk around, move one thing every time we wanted to get something else. He was forgetting that we panicked daily about the fact that we were quickly depleting our savings in order to get by — to the tune of the high three-figures every month — in order to make ends meet, in order to afford that too-small, cold rental. A year ago, we were asking each other if life was supposed to be about breaking your back to not quite make ends meet, if this was what life was about. He was forgetting that we couldn’t actually afford the pub much, and that it was only him who ever went there because we never had a babysitter. But, I understand — it’s so easy to forget, easy to get swept up in the now and to forget the past and doubt the future.
M avoids conflict at all costs and, as such, recoils from making decisions about his own life. He keeps the peace by going along with others’ wishes most of the time, and then tearing himself apart later when those choices don’t actually meet his needs. Most of his major life decisions have been made this way: who he has married, when he had children, where he has lived. I am not sure what it was exactly that has caused him to be this way but, from what little I know of his childhood, I think he has probably been dealing with life this way for a very long time. Most of the time, I’m fine with this, but I hate knowing that I actually make all the big decisions, that his heart may not be in all the really quite important things he agrees to. So, when it comes to the truly life-altering decisions, I try to insist that he participates. When it came to this decision to the move to the US, I demanded — demanded — he think about this and tell me what he really wanted. For a long time, he kept pretending to think about it and then would announce that he was happy with whatever I wanted, but I wouldn’t have that. I asked him again and again to really spend time thinking about it, to discuss it with me… Finally, I told him we were going to think on it separately, not talk about it, for six months and, on New Year’s Day, write our answers down on piece of paper and exchange them. It wasn’t perfect but I couldn’t think of any better due process than that. I can second-guess myself and know when I am not being honest, but I can only second-guess his decisions so far. At some point, I do have to believe he means what he is saying. At some point, he does have to participate in his own life decisions. On New Year’s Day, his paper said USA.
M laid down in the bed and stared up at the ceiling for a while. “Could you ever leave the girls?” he asked and turned pleading eyes to me. I felt the answer instantly: I never could — not ever.
“No.”
“Could you even contemplate it?” There was no way I could answer that would soften it.
“No.”
“Buying this house… It is a good house… buying it is a good thing. But…” His face was stony, his gaze back on the ceiling. “But it’s not right.” He closed his eyes, and turned away.
A rock and a hard place. 😦 I hope you both get some clarity as to your future, whatever that is.
If you moved back to England say, in a few years, then living on one income wouldn’t be an issue right? If your girls were both in school, you would be free to work again, at least part-time? And perhaps you will have some significant equity from your current house to put toward a house in England–maybe the market there will drop??
I agree with Erin. This is not a permanent decision that cannot be undone. You can always go back — you can even move to a third country. There are not only the options you’re aware of, there are tons that you don’t even know are out there. And you may end up happy where you are.
It’s normal for M to be terribly homesick and to miss his kids. It’s normal to wonder if he made the right decision when the first several months have been so difficult with so much upset.
He’s stuck now with the current decision. You have your house, so you need to focus on that and enjoy it. Mixed country couples have the issue of having each of their families halfway across the world. One of you and your kids have to be away from one family. There’s no perfect solution.
Maybe you should do something like the New Year’s Day agreement. Set a date — maybe a year from now — and then sit down and reevaluate your decision about this. That gives you time to settle into your new house and your new life. That gives M an out if he can’t stand it and he feels like he can’t stay here and it takes the pressure off you.
One thing I feel is really destructive to happiness is to hate the situation you’re in so much that you can’t enjoy your life. You can end up waiting away your life for something that never comes.
I feel for you, Strawb. It’s horrible to see your husband miserable and struggling when you’re not doing so hot yourself. But give him some time and I bet he’ll feel better. Once you’re in your own house and he has his drums set up and you aren’t under the pressure of worrying that the owner of the rental house might sell out from under you, life will probably be lots better.
Hugs. I wish I could help in some way.
Erin — yes, that’s the plan, at the moment. I am keeping in mind however, that we are well in the throes of first-year expat homesickness, so the plan may all change.
Rella — thanks for that. You’re absolutely right that this is all normal and to be expected. It’s still hard though, and hard to go through whilst trying to hide it from my parents, from M’s work colleagues, even sometimes from each other. Everyone is so excited for us, so full of big smiles and congratulations, and we are but also have these mixed feelings, and we have to hide that.
You are so spot on about the destructiveness of hating your current situation so that you don’t enjoy life. To speak perfectly plainly, M is like this quite a bit. He moaned about life in England until the cows came home, and now we’re here, he moans about here and waxes lyrical about England and wonders aloud why he didn’t enjoy it more. I tell him that he’d better enjoy the here and now, because someday he’ll be saying the stuff about it too. I’m not like this so much, but it’s easy to catch.
But I think your suggestion to set a date to re-evaluate is absolutely brilliant! That will give us a chance to put aside these feelings until this date — kind of just put them in a box for a while — and to really get stuck in and enjoying the house without feeling like we have to be planning the route home the whole time as well. We could put that out of our minds until the appointed date. Very good idea!!! Thanks!
(So, hey, you did help! 🙂 )
Reading this I just felt for you. Houses, jobs, far away locations, and taking risks can be, well, risky. It’s tough when two people come at life differently. (My husband and I are like that – we have opposite approaches to life)
I don’t have great words of wisdom here. I do want to say that I truly hope you get to come to a place or reach a decision where it works for both of you – where you still have you (and your girls) and at least a little or hopefully a lot of what you want.
I don’t know you, but it seems to me that your heart is in the right place.
Just wanted to say that I hope you find some peace in this situation. I think, with the way things are right now, that everyone is in your shoes. It seems very risky to be taking chances on a house, a move, etc.. but I think that all of us are cutting back in some way. You’ve made the right decision to buy the house. Once the economy improves you can branch out more and get more involved with the community and make friends. Both of you need to cut yourselves some slack. Look what you’ve accomplished in a very short period of time! Making friends, playing in a band, getting into a groove – it all takes time. It’s just bad all over right now, so on top of the adjustment to a move, you’ve also got to navigate the economy.
Maybe you could consider taking a part time job, when he’s home with the girls. It’ll get you out to meet new people and make friends. It’ll give him quality time to spend with them. It might alleviate some of his fears that he can’t afford this house. I think he’s just overwhelmed that everything depends on him and the burden is too much.