I married a man who had become my one of my best friends over the course of our four year courtship. I have two “ride or die” friends from childhood, but Handsome was a different kind of friend. He was my partner in life. By the time we walked down the aisle I felt that he was as much a part of me as anyone could be. To pull out an old-timey Grey’s Anatomy reference, he was my person.
I was all-in with Handsome. I told him everything. Always. I was an open book. As we now know, he was not the same with me. He kept a lot of very damaging secrets. The way that betrayal trauma screws with your attachment to your betrayer is nothing short of a mind f**k. When your person rips apart your soul, it changes things.
Our CSAT is looking at utilizing a new assessment tool in her practice. Having worked with us for a pretty long time, she asked us if we would take the assessments so she could get a feel for its validity and usefulness. We agreed. On my assessment, for the betrayed spouse, one component was the “Multidimensional Scale of Perceived Social Support.” That’s a high falutin’ name for 12 questions that triggered the heck out of me.
The Multidimensional Scale of Perceived Social Support (Zimet et al., 1988) is a 12-item measure of perceived adequacy of social support from three sources: family, friends, & significant other; using a 5- or 7-point Likert scale (0 = strongly disagree, 5/7= strongly agree). Here is what it often looks like:
Answering this threw me off my game for hours. In particular, these statements geared towards your relationship with a “significant other”:
– There is a special person who is around when I am in need.
– There is a special person with whom I can share my joys and sorrows.
– I have a special person who is a real source of comfort to me.
and the kicker…. – There is a special person in my life who cares about my feelings.
Ugh. Pre- DDay every single one of these would be “Very Strongly Agree.” Today though, I struggle with reconciling that my person very nearly destroyed me. Literally. Today, on a good day, I would probably check “neutral” or “mildly agree” with each statement… at best. I don’t yet know how I can get back to “strongly agree” when my “special person” is the sole source of trauma in my life.
Handsome clearly wasn’t around when I needed him when he was checked out in his addiction, and for a long time after discovery I couldn’t open up about my pain because he couldn’t handle the shame it caused. That occasionally still happens. He’s fabulous if a crisis has nothing to do with him, but if my pain is at all related to his acting out he sometimes still fails to show up for me.
As far as being a source of comfort…? Again, if my pain is unrelated to him he does fine. I’d actually say he’s awesome in those instances. More often than not though I need to be comforted as a result of something he did, and seeking comfort from him then is often futile. He still struggles with how to show up for me. So, does he care about my feelings? Yes, but…
He would say that of course he cares deeply about my feelings. I would say he occasionally cares only to the extent that my feelings don’t interfere with the prioritization of his feelings. If he can console me without feeling bad about himself, fine. If he can meet an emotional need of mine without cost to himself, fine. Anything else is something of a crapshoot. I have seen where I stand. I know from experience that if he perceives something as a choice between my interests or his, he will almost always pick his. There is not a self-sacrificing bone in his body.
Just to be clear, I’m not talking about practical things. He’ll take his day off and get up early to run errands or shuttle kids or handle any of the home drudgery at any time. But I could hire someone to do those things. It’s when I’m sad or lonely or hurt or whatever and I need my life partner’s support that I want him to be there for me. That’s when -even if it’s hard or uncomfortable for him- I need my person.
Maybe I’m the weird one for being willing to give anything or do anything for my partner. Maybe I give more than is normal. I don’t know. Even if I do though, it’s not a crime.
Every single word after, ” Yes,but”…every single word. I love to read your blogs it makes me feel that I’m not alone. Thank you ☺️
Good to hear from you Athena. You are absolutely not alone. I found such solace here in the “blogosphere” after my DDay. It truly stinks that there are so many of us with these particular shared experiences, but the support here is tremendous. I’m glad to hear that you find what I write to be helpful. That means a lot. 😊
I relate to so much of what you say here …
Even though when I’m in the midst of it, I often feel soooo isolated, I have a hunch this is a very common feeling/experience. 💔
Yes … I think it is a very common experience … And it’s good of you to share it here so that the rest of us don’t feel so isolated and alone either 🙂
Answering those questions for myself made me realize just how completely alone I feel. Intellectually, I know it’s not a good thing, but emotionally, all I feel is, “Good, I don’t need anyone anyway.” Do you feel like that sometimes too?
Hi Jack. I can relate. I don’t necessarily think that I don’t need anyone, but I do find myself thinking things like “well, I have my kids” or “well, I have my mom.” It’s as if I’m trying to convince myself that the loss isn’t as material as it is. The problem- and I know it’s a problem – is that those people aren’t supposed to fill the role of a significant other. Relying on them to do so isn’t fair to them. So there’s a gaping hole there where, like you, I can feel very alone. I have love and support and comfort in my life, but not the way I used to experience it and not consistently from my husband.