Stockholm Syndrome And Being Rescued By My Son

(this post contains pseudo-quotes. They are as close to the real thing as I can make them. I have also condensed pieces of conversations for length... intent is as accurate as I able to make it)

Yesterday she had me.

We talked after supper.

I had driven the kids to their respective activities and had returned to finish my reheated supper. Mrs_C had planted part of the garden in a light rain (she wanted to get it in before a full rain). She had come in and taken a bath because she got all muddy while planting. We talked. I was being positive and complimentary about things that she does - I have it in my head that if I try to find and reinforce positive messages and feelings in my dealings with her it will make relations better - hasn't worked so far, but that result has never stopped me flogging away at a good theory before... anyway, I told her that she had shown dedication by doing the planting in the rain, and that such dedication was highly commendable (yes, I'm afraid dedication and commendable were words used - but, it's not like those are words outside my daily vocabulary/usage)

She began to cry and told me she supposed so (that it showed dedication), but that she got no feeling of accomplishment anymore - that she just didn't care about the garden anymore where she once did.

It stopped for awhile, and she said she really didn't want there to be the tension between us whenever we were around each other - that was very hard - she said. We talked. It was a gentle talk. It was like the grey, cool, humid, and lightly raining day outside.

We talked a little about mourning our marriage and life together as it had previously existed. We talked about times and things and she brought up my outburst on Sunday in front of the kids and told me my daughter had said that a lot of people get way madder than I did.

It was so gentle and there was such a release of tension. It was like that moment when the massage therapist finds that spot that causes the whole muscle to just let go. I breathed out.

She had me.

Unbidden, I began to think "...this is the woman I married". Kind, gentle, nice. The connection we had - we have - was absolutely present. I began to think that she was right. Maybe I had just interpreted most of the things she said to me the wrong way. Maybe my personal demons had intruded into our life such that I had been hypersensitive for so long that I couldn't distinguish between "just a comment" and a slight. That I had a permanent "people are ignoring me and putting me down" filter on my relationships.

As I drove to pick up my son from his practice I thought "What about all the stuff I wrote down about what she said, and how I felt, and what she did?"

I picked up my son (14). I said to him "Son [insert his name in place of son], I want to ask you a question. I apologise for pulling you into things with your mother and I, but you are the only person who can possibly answer this question because you live in the same house and family. If you don't want to answer my question, just say you'd prefer to stay out of it."

He said go ahead.

I told him that I was beginning to believe his mother and that I was beginning to believe that I had just gotten it all wrong. I said that I had all this stuff written down describing how his mother and I had interacted and how I believed she had treated me. I then asked him if she had in fact ripped into me as regularly and as much as I thought she had.

He said "I haven't read it, and I wasn't there for all your stuff so I don't know. I know you fought sometimes and she would crash down on you, but I can't really say."

I said, no - I don't mean the big blowouts, just the regular day to day stuff - the criticisms.

He said - you mean like when we'd be going for supper and she'd say "you don't want to go there do you? I don't think anyone really likes that place" or she'd say "I don't think anyone really wants to do that today" or "I don't think we should buy that item" at the grocery store.

he said - like when she would find something bad about every suggestion or find a way of twisting almost everything you said to make it an insult or uncaring remark about her and you'd have to spend the whole night apologising for something.

he said - or like when any decorating idea or paint colour suggestion would "not really work" in our house

I said - ok, so all that was real. I wasn't imagining it. I wasn't just interpreting it wrong

I told him how I had begun to believe that maybe I did get it wrong and that I was interpreting things in a whacked out way

[this is as close to his words as I can make it] he said "Dad, I hope this doesn't offend you, but I think she has you going a little nutters. I mean, like mental problems. [pause] Remember, she's a master manipulator. She does it deliberately. She can twist around anything to make it look like she's the good person and the other person is evil. She lies and makes things up and twists everything. Her basic tactic is constant pressure without reprieve [yes, he used the word reprieve]. She just keeps it up until the other person buckles and she twists things around until the other person doesn't even know where they started from."

I said - I needed to know if my memory and the stuff I wrote down is accurate. I need to know that when I make my decision - decisions.

he said - if you wrote it down, it's probably accurate

we went inside.