Under control

How has your week been, sweetie darlings? Everyone okay? Hanging in there? Thriving? Surviving? I had such a crappy weekend last weekend that it has taken me all week to get over it, not that I have, really. What made it worse: I wasn’t hurting, a dear friend was, in a way I could not change or make better and how frustrating is that? Unbearable, at least to me it is.

She had invited me and another friend over for drinks and dinner while her husband was away. Except he learned of her plans. Told her she could not have anyone over. Told her he would call the police on us if we came over. And they’d arrest us for what? Having drinks and dinner in a private home she co-owns? On Saturday morning he called to tell her he was heading back and no one was allowed to visit since he had fallen ill. Of course, he wasn’t actually ill, it turned out, to no one’s surprise, just determined to torpedo her plans after she refused to cancel them.

Who does that? He does that. Any chance he gets. All the time. So often over the course of their marriage she doesn’t know what to think or feel or say anymore. He has taken control of her life. He has imposed his will on her. He has crushed her spirit. What once seemed like interest and attentiveness was in truth a hunting and gathering expedition. Every vulnerability he now uses against her. Every hurt is an opportunity to wound her further. Everything is her fault, her doing.

You better believe all of her closest friends have begged and pleaded, ranted and raved, for her to leave before the emotional abuse turns physical. But she is in such a paralyzed state she can’t find the strength to make decisions let alone pack up and go. (We have offered to fricking carry her out of there along with all her belongings, if that’s what it takes.) He has messed her up beyond all recognition and even though she acknowledges that theirs is not a normal relationship, that she is not the woman she used to be, that she does not like the woman she has turned into, a future alone, the great unknown, is such a terrifying prospect she hangs on to every sliver of hope she can, wishing they could just start over.

Because they have. They have been here before. And ended up in the very same spot they are now. And still she seems ready for one more cycle of tip-toeing, trying to please, wishing, hoping, dreaming, dreading, all he has to do is signal he’s ready for another round. We have tried and tried and tried to tell her that he won’t change, he has shown his true colors time and time again. She can’t change him, and he hasn’t given any indication he is ready, willing or able to grow as a human and a husband. Whatever his demons, whatever makes him so very unhappy he has to make those around his as miserable as he is, it only makes him more determined to take her down with him. And we’re supposed to watch her drown, admit we can’t change her any more than she can change him?

Fuck that and screw him. I used to feel sorry for him. Now all I feel is anger and contempt. I will never forgive him for how he has treated her, his wife, and numerous other people in his life. (And he has been cruel. Deliberately so.) He needs help. Well, he can get it on his own time and his own dime. She owes him nothing. None of us do. We tried to be there for him too. Didn’t make a lick of difference. He knows best, as always, and the rest of us are idiots. Okay thanks bye. Now let her go. Just leave her alone. Damn right we will see her through this.

If only she’d take the hand that’s offered.

Step back in time to November 9, 1918

...for a story of friendship, loyalty, betrayal and...sorry, can't say more without ruining the ending for you. Guess you'll just have to watch it, then, to commemorate the WWI Armistice Centennial [this Sunday], and to celebrate masterly storytelling and cinematography.

Calling all angels

Comforting All Souls', dearest denizens.