He’s in therapy tonight. I know it’s good, and I know it’s helping, but I just want to go home.
Today was ok. Just now, my phone didn’t want to type out “ok”, and I guess you could say “today was.” We were chatting at lunch about how our days were going, and I told him I was going to try to leave early enough to get him to his appointment without having to take an Uber. He told me that would be great, and said that he’s trying very hard to not be so focused on getting places early. For him, being somewhere on time really means being there at least 30 minutes early. At least. A month ago, I had to draw the line when he wanted to leave work at 3:30pm to get to a 5pm session. However, it is something he’s working on.
Of course, I’ve gotta make things suck, because I can’t stop picking at the metaphorical scab and just let the wound heal. I made a comment to him about his efforts. “I know you’re trying very hard, I just wish it was something I could see, you know?” I told him. “You say you’re trying to be a better man/husband/friend, but from my perspective, it looks the same.”
That’s the crux of the matter. I can’t tell.
I can’t look into his head and be like oh, he had an urge to do it on Wednesday, but instead he redirected his thoughts. To me, for all I can actually see, it may as well be November 1st.
He asked me what he could do, but it’s not something that can be done, really. You can’t prove a negative. We talk a bit more, and communicate more openly, but I still feel very much in the dark. I want to know what happened, and why, and what’s going to happen now.
I just wish he would (or even could) talk to me.
