Promises and Priorities

           “I get it. You don’t want me to sing in the choir,” he said.

           “No, you don’t get it. I don’t mind that you joined the choir. If you recall, I’m the one who suggested it,” she replied.

           “Then tell me what you’re complaining about—please.”

           She took a deep breath and continued, “You just announced you’re attending the choir retreat the same weekend as our anniversary, no discussion, no nothing, just an announcement,” she said in a frustrated attempt to get him to understand. “You didn’t even seem to have noticed the date.”

           “I noticed the date. But I didn’t think you’d mind since we have an anniversary every year. This will be the first choir retreat since I joined the choir.” Now he was getting frustrated as well.

           “You didn’t think I’d mind! You’re saying you assumed I wouldn’t mind. But you didn’t bother to ask me. You just made a unilateral decision. Is that what you want me to understand?” she asked.

           “I didn’t think I needed to ask your permission.” The temperature in the room was rising. He could tell by her flushed cheeks and the grief-stricken look on her face. He was baffled. He admitted to her and to himself that he didn’t get it. What was the big deal anyway? It was the choir. It’s not like he would be bar hopping with a bunch of guys.

           The days until the retreat passed slowly. They tried to go about business as usual but there was a thin thread of tension in everything she said. She gave him a half-hearted shrug or a long exhale whenever he mentioned the retreat. Once or twice she even squared her shoulders in anger.

           Then she decided to try another approach. She would stop complaining and consider the retreat weekend an anniversary gift to him from her. That evening at dinner she presented him with an early anniversary card. In it, she explained that she’d decided to let him go without complaint or resignation. The effect was the opposite of what she’d planned or expected.

           His jaw tightened and he said, “You’re going to let me go? Let me? I don’t need you to let me do anything.” He stood and walked out of the room without finishing his meal.

           She was crushed. He had refused her sacrificial gift. She now resigned herself to the stalemate. He would go to the retreat anyway.

           After the retreat, her resignation turned to resentment. She tried to let it go. Why was this pain so intense? She wished she experienced a loss of appetite during highly emotional times like this. But such as not her lot. Instead, she satiated her grief with vanilla ice cream lots of it.   

He’s the one who suggested counseling. He chose a female counselor and made the appointment. They rode together though she would have preferred to meet him there. Mrs. Radcliff was an older woman with respectable credentials. They settled into a routine of visiting Mrs. Radcliff weekly.

           After several weeks of little progress, his wife said to Mrs. Radcliff, “I believe you have a double standard. You expect more from me than you do from him. You want me to accept him as he is but you want me to change my behavior.”

           To their shock and dismay, the counselor acknowledged that was precisely her position. ”Women have a greater responsibility in relationships than men do,” she said.

           Mrs. Radcliff announced at their appointment two weeks later that she wanted to give them each a report. She began with the wife. She pointed out the wife’s unwillingness to adhere to conventional female roles and expectations. Then she defined the wife’s behavior as reprehensible. The husband jumped to his wife’s defense. His annoyance was clear. He took a deep breath and held it for a moment before speaking. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said sharply. “She’s the most generous, caring person I know. I’ve heard enough.” He let out a deep exhale, took his wife by the hand, and led her out of the office. He called Mrs. Radcliff’s office the following day to make clear they would not return.

           The husband’s defense of his wife in Mrs. Radcliff’s office was a defining moment in their relationship but it did little to resolve the resentment over the retreat. If she didn’t understand her seeming over-reaction how could she explain it to him? She was still angry but by now it was a wave of more simmering anger. Not on the surface, but underlying everything else. It was the worst kind of anger. She felt emotionally wounded.

           She wanted her husband to embrace her, to hold her, and caress her face. She wanted to cling to him. She wanted to arouse him, stimulate him, stir what she knew was alive in him. But she couldn’t. She wanted him to apologize for the slight of their anniversary, a day they had held special for 14 years. She wanted him to strip away her pain. Instead, she said, “Good night,” and went to bed early.

           They returned to their nearly normal routines. They went to work and to church. They visited with their children and grandchildren. They went to a movie and had dinner out. Life would seem normal to an outsider but on the inside, her joy was diminished. He was not as sensitive as she. He probably didn’t notice which made her feelings grow even stronger. How could he not recognize something was wrong, she asked herself repeatedly.

           When would she get over this and how? Was she holding a grudge? She didn’t think so. Grudge holding wasn’t her style. Usually, she preferred to address whatever was bothering her, put it behind her, and move on. Why wasn’t she able to do that this time? It had been months.

           She was seated in her recliner one afternoon, again studying her feelings. Her feelings about the retreat had taken on a life of their own. The TV was on but she had no idea what the announcer had said because she was in a world of her own. What was so different about this event? Why did she hurt so, she asked herself? How was this different than other times they’d had a difference of opinion?

           They had agreed early on that there would be times when they would simply agree to disagree. She could feel the distress in her stomach as she tried again to analyze her feelings. Her mind searched for answers. She felt like this was a broken promise. Hadn’t they also agreed to celebrate each anniversary by doing something special together?

           He walked into the room just as it came to her, an epiphany. “I just realized why I’ve been so angry and hurt about the retreat. Please sit down so I can explain.”

           He took a seat beside her. “I’m listening,” he said. He wanted to understand but his expectation was not high. They’d been over this repeatedly to no avail. When would she let it go?

           “It’s not that you made a decision without consulting me. You made a decision that affected me, without consulting me. You left me powerless. I felt weak and helpless. You know how I like to be in control, not in control of everything, just in control of me. You took that away from me.”

           “Are you saying these last few months could have been avoided if I’d just discussed our anniversary with you before the retreat? Maybe I could have made a plan ahead of time and treated you to something even more special,” he asked.

           “I can’t say for certain. I just know it would have been a better place to start. Making decisions that affect me without consulting me will never work.”

           “So, we went to that awful counselor who was more focused on changing you than understanding you, and you figured it out yourself?”

           “Well, I do know me better than anyone else. Sometimes it just takes time. But I am persistent.”

           “I do know that about you.”