Hunger (Some Say Love #1)

by Jane Smith

  The therapist nodded her head, her blonde curls swinging next to her glasses. “And since you’re older, did you find it easier to change your behavior in order to avoid the anger?”

  Kelsey tilted her head to the side. “Sometimes. But it was never rational. Like, how could I know that eating the last pickle would suddenly set him off? Or that he hadn’t taken my request for laundry detergent seriously until he had no clean underwear?”

  She paused for a moment and continued, “How could I not have seen what a terrible mother I was being, allowing them to live in a house like that?

  “Just the thought of leaving the house to go to a job would stress me out. Not only would I be grilled about every person I interacted with, but knowing that the kids weren’t safe would have killed me. I just wanted a peaceful home and I would have done anything to get it. I did do anything in fact; I worked from home, since I wasn’t really able to leave, and made enough money to support us through writing, but it was barely what we needed to survive. Without an education or resources to improve my craft, I was writing cheesy web-content articles, things like “How to Choose a Plumber in Dayton, Ohio” followed by “How to Choose a Plumber in Atlanta, Georgia.

  “My favorites were the travel articles.” Kelsey exhaled, remembering what a sweet escape it was to write ‘10 Free Things to do With Kids in New York City.’ “That allowed me to fantasize about taking my kids somewhere fun. I'd work from 5am until about noon and at that point, the kids would need my attention and I'd be a mom. Seven days a week, I was working and raising kids with no breaks, no weekends, no vacations, because I didn't want to be on welfare again.”

  The therapist leaned back in her chair, and, as if she didn’t already known the answer to this question, asked, “And why couldn’t you work outside the home?”

  Kelsey was annoyed. She knew that repeating this was her therapist’s way of making her realize it was important, but she hated that it was OK to pretend she hadn’t already made it clear. As a professional therapist, surely this woman knew how narcissists work and, from everything Kelsey had read, she wasn’t the first victim-of-a-narcissist who was banished into household servitude. But apparently she was expected to say something deeper, so she tried.

  “I couldn't work outside the house for so many reasons. Mainly, because I couldn’t trust that my kids were emotionally safe when I was gone. Plus, every time I left the house I'd get grilled about who I saw. He was always sure I'd been flirting with men and even more sure that I always had some mysterious boyfriend on the side. I'll never forget coming home from Safeway when my youngest was three days old. I had zoned out a little staring at the wall of tea bags, but I don't think it was for more than 5 minutes. When I came home, he actually accused me of having met up with a boyfriend in the parking lot for a quickie. I mean, who would do that three days after giving birth? It’s like he had absolutely no idea what I was going through.”

  The therapist shook her head disapprovingly and made notes in her file while Kelsey continued.

  “I never felt like he appreciated the effort I put into mothering our children. We were homeschooling and I had the most awesome projects. I was a 4H leader, I even won volunteer of the year one year and he didn't even come to the ceremony. The only thing he was ever interested in was how I could serve him. I was so proud of the fact that I was thrifty and resourceful, accepting hand-me-down clothes from a friend's teenage daughter. But instead of seeing that I spent nothing on clothes, all he saw was that my chest was displayed too nicely. That was proof that I was looking for a man.

  “I was actually just looking for him to BE a man and take care of us the way I always thought men were supposed to do. Why should I have to wake up at 5am every day to bring home the bacon and then raise kids all day without any help from him? Why was he in our family if he wasn't contributing anything to it?

  “My job as a mother would have been easier if I didn't have to spend so much time comforting my children after his temper tantrums. My job as a breadwinner would have been easier if our household's income wasn't being spent on his cigarettes, feeding his loser friends, or “investing” in the latest greatest fertilizer for his marijuana plants.”

  The therapist raised her eyebrows at this and Kelsey chastised herself inside for not revealing sooner that he was a pothead. It didn’t seem relevant to her recovery and that was the goal. Recover. Heal her brain from the trauma of this marriage and move forward. She continued her story.

  “He always had big hopes and dreams about the future. There was always some future we were looking forward to that didn't include financial struggles. But that future would never come. 'The harvest was bad this year,' or ’my investor backed out at the last minute,' or ‘someone ripped me off...' It was always something and it was never his fault. Why did I let his delusions of grandeur define my life for so long?”

  Kelsey looked at the therapist for an answer. Surely there was a mental health label that could be applied to someone who blindly accepts someone else’s delusional fantasies for 15 years. The therapist’s response was unsettling. “When you love someone, you believe in them. When did you stop believing in him?”

  Kelsey was angry. This entire divorce wasn’t happening simply because she didn’t believe in Brian. Brian was full of shit. Who could believe in someone that was full of shit? What’s that saying? Fool me once, shame on you, but fool me twice and shame on me? No promise he ever made was fulfilled and he’d proven time and time again that he didn’t have the best interest of the family in mind. She decided to finish her story so the therapist would understand instead of trying to entertain an answer to the ‘when did you stop believing’ question.

  “It was always some future promise of happiness that never came. Once his harvest came, I wouldn’t have to work. Once his business got off the ground, I could go back to school. There was always some magic moment in the future that would change everything, make life easier for us. But after 15 years, that day never came. I just couldn't take it anymore and he was growing sick of it, too. I think he hated himself for being such a loser.”

  The therapist squished her lips to one side and asked “Do you think he’s a loser?”

  Kelsey nodded her head. “I do, but not because he hasn’t experienced success. It’s because he doesn’t recognize when he’s failed or learn from his mistakes. He just blames other people. His only redeeming quality is that he has confidence. I’m amazed that he can look back on his history of failure and ever want to try again, without attempting to deconstruct the failure and prevent it again.”

  The therapist nodded her head. “And how do you imagine life would be different if he’d learned from failures, and not blamed other people for it?”

  Kelsey hadn’t considered this idea but she was always up for a mental challenge and the answer came easily. “When we learn from our mistakes, we don’t make them again. We might make new ones, but if he’d learned from his mistakes, instead of blaming other people, he would have been more empowered to make things work, he would have been more responsible with the cash flow, and he would have been vigilant every step of the way to protect his businesses and provide for our family.”

  Kelsey looked at the therapist to see if she was accepting this answer, “Instead, it was always someone else’s fault. He never consciously gave away the power to bury his dreams, but whenever things got bad, he would retreat into blame and let everything fall to pieces. I think his happy place was dreaming of a better future, with no regard that dreaming doesn’t pay the bills.”

  The therapist nodded, and repeated her question, “And how would your life have been different?”

  Kelsey thought she had just answered that question, but she tried again. “My life would have been different because I’d have had an actual partner in life. I wouldn’t have had to step in and take over the finances. If I had a partner I wouldn’t have had to raise the kids alone, manage the house alone, and deal with his tantrums. I can handle other people’s perso
nal flaws, but he made it impossible to live a peaceful and happy life by sabotaging our stability and security at every turn.” Kelsey stopped talking, hoping that that was enough.

  The therapist nodded her head and asked, “So was that the worst thing about him? That he was a failure in business, or was it worse that he was mean to the kids?”

  Kelsey thought hard about the answer to this and realized that neither of those things were the worst. “I think the constant loneliness was the worst. He never saw me for me. All he ever saw in me was that I was failing to serve his needs. I never got a thank you for the time and energy I put into raising our children, or for the many hours I put into our businesses. I never got a thank you for being the only responsible adult in the house and earning money when he failed. All I got was “You don't appreciate me” and then I felt guilty because I couldn't even honestly think of what it was I was supposed to appreciate him for. He was more trouble than he was worth.”

  After a long sigh, Kelsey continued. “And the loneliness of being his wife was something I tried to resolve but couldn’t. Our conversations weren’t deep enough to create an emotional, spiritual, or even an intellectual connection. He wasn’t interesting and he didn’t ever generate new ideas or explore alternative ways of thinking. He never showed an interest in improving himself. And to make matters worse, he didn’t allow me to pursue friendships with people I found interesting. I wanted to have girlfriends over, but none of the moms in the Christian homeschool group would have been friends with me if they’d known my house was a pot farm. I couldn’t even stay close with my family because I didn’t want them to know how horrible our life was. I felt like I didn’t exist as a human, only as a single mother in a nonexistent marriage.”

  The therapist nodded. “It’s not uncommon for a narcissist to isolate their victims socially. The victim plays a small role in that, by not wanting to be truthful about the relationship because anyone who loves you or wants to be a friend would be alarmed to hear the details. But it’s part of their disease, keeping you lonely and feeling trapped. Were there any good times?”

  Kelsey nodded her head. “We had a few good runs, like when we owned the coffee shops. We had 4 locations and the business was popular. We had a great reputation in town and our coffee was the best. We hired my Grandma as our bookkeeper, but in the end, it was “her fault” that we went out of business. He never took responsibility for pulling through the drive-through and cashing out all the cash registers when he wanted a new car stereo. He never took responsibility for failing to deliver supplies, like coffee beans, so they could actually make coffee. He never took responsibility for anything, and in the end, I was alienated from my family because he blamed her for not balancing the books and paying our rent and taxes, because he made bad business decisions, like buying all new machinery one day without even a discussion. Yes, La Marzoco makes a great espresso machine but they're thousands of dollars, and when you buy 4 of them in one day without planning for the expense, it leaves little else for affording the other expenses, like electricity or payroll.”

  Kelsey knew she was changing the subject, but whatever. “Everyone else knew it wasn't my Grandma’s fault. Still, to this day, he doesn't see that he played any role in the demise of the company. And my warnings about his spending habits were just the sound of a bitchy wife, always nagging. After the business crumbled, leaving all of our staff unemployed 3 weeks before Christmas, he went into a deep depression. Suddenly he was home all day every day, just being angry with everyone and getting high. I had to do something, and so I wrote. That's how my business started.”

  Kelsey realized she was getting off track, so she apologized. “I’m sure there were good times, but they were few and far between. Obviously they weren’t good enough to make me want to stay married. So I started my writing business, since he wasn’t making any money by lazing around at home. It was the perfect job for a girl who couldn’t easily leave the house and couldn't commit to regular hours, since the kids were involved in Scouts, 4H, dance classes, church choirs, a homeschool co-op and they also had other activities, like birthday parties and play dates and field trips. We were busy and happy, except for the part where we lived with a maniac who flipped out if there was no pickle next to his sandwich. There were good times, but those were more often in spite of him and not because of him.”

  The therapist paused for a long and uncomfortable moment, finally asking, “Do you miss him?”

  Kelsey looked down. “I feel like I should, but I don’t. Most women, when they get divorced, are sad. They cry or something, they miss having their husband in the house and they feel overwhelmed by single parenting. I feel like a big jerk saying this, but no. I don’t miss him at all. The only thing I’ve felt the entire time is relief and fear. I’m relieved that it’s over and I’m afraid that he’ll somehow weasel his way back into my life. I don’t miss him, I miss the years I lost waiting for him to change.”

  Kelsey was sure that not missing her ex was a sign of a serious mental deficiency. She was afraid that the therapist would make notes that she was psychotic, recommend she be medicated, or that she lose her children or something. But the therapist didn’t take a note. In fact, she smiled a little, almost like she understood.

  Kelsey was getting sick of recounting her story. She wanted to move forward. “Now that my marriage is over, I just want to build my life into something good and happy.”

  Kelsey looked across the room at the woman who was being paid to listen to this diatribe for advice or feedback or something she could go home and think about, something that would solve this problem in her mind.

  She closed her notebook, crossed her legs and began to speak. “It sounds like you've thought this out pretty thoroughly and you know what you're looking for. Stability, responsibility, and peace. What exactly are you hoping to get from counseling?”

  Kelsey was surprised by the question. “Well, the whole separation and divorce was pretty traumatic. Anyone would be traumatized by what I went through. He lied to our families about me having a drug habit, and when I found out what he’d said, he went nuts, breaking things and yelling. We lived in fear for ages before I learned how to file the restraining order and break free from the madness. I'm sure I need counseling. Even people in normal divorces need counseling, don’t they? I still have nightmares about him coming in and taking the kids.”

  “Nightmares?” The counselor leaned in. “Tell me more about your nightmares.”

  Kelsey was panicking, did this woman really not understand how obviously crazy she was for putting up with his shit for so long? Of course she needed counseling, not just a cure for the nightmares. “Our house is noisy, it's a single wide trailer on the side of a hill and when the wind blows, it wakes me up. I keep imagining he's at the window or something, coming in to take the kids away or hurt us again.”

  Now it was the therapist’s timer that beeped. She handed Kelsey a flier about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and invited her back next week to talk about healing from traumatic events. In the meantime, Kelsey was supposed to look at the ways she's been healing since the incident.

  She was glad to finally be able to afford counseling, but felt it seemed a bit anticlimactic. How could the therapist hear that whole story and think that PTSD was the only problem here? Obviously, something was really wrong with a woman who would live like that for 15 years, right? How could she convince her therapist that she was crazy and needed a cure?

  Kelsey wanted to live a good life and never again be the kind of person who would put up with that sort of shit. How would she do that if her therapist didn't give her anything more than a flier about PTSD? Where were the magic words? The affirmations? The book recommendation that would cure everything?

  The research she’d been doing online taught her that counseling would look good in divorce court, so she scheduled her next appointment, but she didn’t have much faith in this system; there must be a cure for whatever was wrong with her. No sane person would
let herself stay in a marriage like that.

  Chapter 17

  “You heard me, I want you to pick out a house. And have you called the attorney yet?”

  Kelsey nodded her head. “Yes, I have an appointment next week. And I don’t even know how to do the house thing, do I just find an agent and start looking at houses? Is there a budget? I don’t know how I feel about this. This is so weird.”

  Charles wrapped his arm around Kelsey’s shoulders and comforted her. “I know it’s awkward, and in most people’s worlds, buying a house is a big deal. But in my world, it’s really nothing. Especially in Bend. Houses are cheap there. I hate that you’re so far away but I get it that you want to keep the kids near their friends. Just find one in a decent neighborhood. You don’t have to think about the price, but you should think about the maintenance and utilities. Don’t get something that’s going to need fixing up, don’t get something that’s outrageous. Find something sensible that you can picture yourself enjoying, something safe and secure and stable. You’ve done so much for me, you’ve made my life so much richer and honestly, it’s the least I can do. I know it feels awkward but try not to let it, OK. It’s a gift. Just say ‘thank you’. And when your custody situation is all worked out and you figure out what you want to do in life, and you’re ready to move to the city, you can sell it.”