A relationship between hatred and fear

Sometimes I hate my husband. But if I explore that feeling at all I can readily identify that feeling as a form of fear.

I'm afraid of how vulnerable I feel. I'm afraid of feeling his resentment and contempt. I'm afraid of the power it feels like they have to negate me.

If I felt his resentment and contempt all the time I'd leave. I feel like I could close the door on him if I had to, to protect myself. I don't want to be with someone who doesn't love and cherish and respect me. So I'm not afraid in the sense that I'll have to endure something so painful to be with somebody. If it was like that, I'd choose to be alone.

So what am I afraid of?

I think I'm afraid of the pain of being written off, relegated to some lesser status, cast aside as unworthy of even an argument by someone I love. I'm afraid of those moments before I can get to the door to slam it shut.

I'm also afraid that he won't be honest. That he'll build up all this resentment and disappointment again without letting me know, without acknowledging it when I ask, and then one day I'll find myself living with a stranger and that will be that for me. My life will be completely changed, missing something so important to me, without me ever having had the chance to have my say.

I'm afraid because I feel powerless. Not in my whole life. But powerless like something that I don't have have control over is going to happen and break my heart, leave me alone, fool me, ruin me. I guess it's no surprise that I have that fear.

Given that is going to happen again, because things I don't have control over are going to happen, I suppose the most relevant question is what do I have control over?

I have control over how I respond when I am broken, alone, fooled and ruined.

I know that. So what am I afraid of?

I'm afraid of the pain of being resented, disappointing, being regarded with contempt by someone I hold dear. Invalidated by someone I value so much. I know I can survive it, but I'm afraid of feeling that pain...that burning, searing, ripping pain...the pain of those moments before I can shut the door. That's all I can seem to figure out at the moment.

Real life

Yesterday, due to construction detours, I found myself driving by the last hotel at which Husband met a prostitute (Ashley, April 21, 2007.)

I know of several of the locations at which he had sex with prostitutes, and don't usually drive by them. I used to avoid driving by the massage parlor where he started getting hand jobs with massage, but I'd managed to overcome the dread and anxiety triggered by that place. Same with the street where the strip club he frequented is located. And things have been going well with him, me and us. So the force of my anxiety took me by surprise.

My heart started beating, my breathing got shallow and rapid, and I did everything I could not to look at that place as I sat at the intersection waiting for the light to turn. I just didn't want to be confronted by that building because I knew what had happened in there. It is a physical marker of past events that can not fade over time.

Husband had not wanted me to know the locations of his activities. But I found out some of them before we had talked about it. As I sat at the intersection I wondered if it would be better not to know. But upon reflection I decided that what I was confronting was the truth of my life. And I'd rather know the truth of my own life, and have the pain that comes with that, than to be shrouded in the false bliss of ignorance.

This is my life. These things have happened. I have been hurt and lied to by the person I loved and trusted most in the world. All while he loved me. And he still loves me. That is one of the truths of my life. And there are so many others. And I am fortunate in that most of them do not come with the burning, anxiety ridden pain this one bears. Together they make up my whole life. The good with the bad. The pain with the joy. That is a whole life. That is a real human life.