RELATIONSHIPS

If Your Partner “Gives Up” Don’t Hold Your Breath Waiting for Them to Change

The only thing that will change is you

Isn’t it funny, or rather, irritating, how careful we need to be with our choice of words, nowadays? How easily offended people are by what we say and how we say it?

In my title, I figured “partner” would be the safest choice. After all, “spouse” implies that a couple has sealed the deal on paper, and “mate” sounds so, well, dowdy. And, I can’t do dowdy. Social media won’t allow for that.

Whatever the moniker, my partner, my spouse, appears to have given up on “living his best life.” Instead, he seems to have embraced old age with the same ferocity that I’ve resisted it. And there’s another word that’s not entirely accurate. He hasn’t so much embraced old age, as fallen into it. I don’t know. Perhaps he’s better off facing reality while I continue my feeble attempt to fight off the inevitable, as I am not good at “aging,” people.

Maybe that’s my failing. Something he doesn’t like about me.

I look at the ads that CNN runs, relentlessly, for pharmaceuticals, life insurance, hearing aids, incontinence pads, “crap-in-the-box” colon cancer tests, and all the other “accouterments” that accompany us on our “journey” toward getting old as dirt. And I see the people in them, most of them around my age, probably, and I can’t make the connection.

When my husband retired from his longtime editorial position in December, and deservedly so, given his age and a lifetime spent employed, I was concerned. He was already working from home, so what was he going to do at home, to fill his days?

He has no special hobbies to speak of other than reading and watching movies. A lovely writer, I’ve encouraged him to try that path, to no avail. He has no friends living nearby that he can hang out with. But, there is a bar that he occasionally visits in the afternoon where he’s met a few people he likes.

And, through no fault of his own, I feel guilty that I spend most of my days either on the go or in our basement, writing my ramblings and pitching my screenplays. As if I need to keep him company. But, that’s not me. I can’t sit on my ass all day. For someone challenged with my level of anxiety, that’s the direct route to Crazy Town.

I never said I was easy live with. You’ve probably already determined that. Maybe some of you are thinking, “What a pain in the ass!” And, you might be right. I can be, especially when I’m scared. That’s how I handle fear. By erupting.

And, I’m tired. Because the last thing I want to do is put my own health in jeopardy. You all know what constant, unrelenting stress does to the body. I’ve had cancer and I don’t intend to get it again.

You see, for my husband, I’m it, and that scares the living hell out of me. I’m having a tough enough time attempting to make myself happy, without worrying and constantly so, that I’m failing him. Too, what if I conk out. Can he take care of himself and our two cats?

Without going into details as I’ve touched upon this in previous stories, his health isn’t what it could be, putting it mildly, but we’re working on it. So, everything that requires doing, falls on me. I handle our finances, take care of the house, do the shopping, care for our cats and, when I can squeeze in the time, share my stories here and on Substack.

Oh, I also look for paying gigs, an area where I’m woefully inept. AKA, “too old.” Recruiters think so, anyway. But, if you read me regularly, you know what I think of them. I’ve been ghosted so many times by these pinheads, that I’ve become somewhat of a vigilante where they’re concerned.

All that said, I am not here to bash my husband but to caution anyone who’s in a similar situation. There’s no changing an individual without them wanting, without reservations, to immerse themselves in a process that is anything but a cakewalk.

Change equals “work.” I should know. I try to make significant changes in my own makeup, and have failed time and again. But, I keep at it.

Here, I need to stress that I’ve tried everything in an effort to help my husband get on the right path—every damned thing within my capacity. And finally, I know what I need to do.

Stop trying so hard.

In my heart of hearts, I know that’s the healthiest option, for me. And again, if you’re in a similar situation, for you, as well.

Unless your partner is willing to make the necessary changes in order to lead a fuller, richer life for both of you, consider exploring your options, whatever that may mean for you.

Because here’s what will happen: You will be the one to change. One morning, you’ll wake up consumed by anger, and resentment. You’ll get nasty. Spew venom the likes of which will sicken you, later. Make threats that you have no intention of following up on unless you’ve cooly and analytically planned for just such a disruption in your relationship.

And then you’ll feel guilty, so the anger will subside, for a bit, while you try other tactics in your limited arsenal. You’ll try to reason with your partner, tell them how much you love and need them, beg them to get help, any kind of help.

They will tell you, “Yes, you’re right. I need to change and I will.” And you will do your best to believe it. After all, what else can you do?

Then, after a few weeks or a couple of months — or another season — has passed and you realize that indeed, it’s the “same old, same old,” you’ll be back to where you started.

You may wonder why I’m telling you this as it’s apparent I have no answers worth a damn, other than the tired, keep hope alive. That’s the thing about hope, right? You never know.

Hell, I sure as hell don’t. But, I’m stubborn that way.