Page 52 of Marriage and the Midlife Crisis

He blinked in surprise, then answered with much more ease than I had. “I’m forty-three and work as a structural engineer. In addition to Melanie and our sons, I have a younger brother and a niece and nephew.” He paused, then said, “I enjoy playing golf, and sports in general. I love to travel. I’m outgoing, I prefer rock music over country, and I can grill a mean steak.”

Kim nodded, and I noticed how different his answer had been than mine. I’d had to struggle to come up with an answer to “who is Melanie.” Ryan just knew, without being prompted, and I wondered if I’d always lacked self-awareness, or if that was something that had been conditioned out of me as I put everyone else’s needs first. When had I started seeing myself as an extension of those around me? I was brought out of my introspection when Ryan started talking again.

“I’m also pretty mechanically inclined and handy around the house.” He turned to look at me apologetically and added, “or I used to be anyway. I’ve slacked off, and somebody else has been taking care of things.” He arched a brow in question, and I shrugged.

“We’ll talk about that later,” he murmured, then turned his attention back to Kim.

“Thank you, Ryan. Now, generally, I find that it’s helpful to start off with the most immediate or pressing issue and work backward until we find the root cause. Then we’ll jump back in time and talk about your history, how you met, maybe your first date, the wedding, or any of the good things that remind you of why you fell in love in the first place. That’s the important bit, because the idea is that reminiscing about the happier times will give you an incentive to tackle the hard parts and rebuild the marriage.”

I was impressed with her suggestion, and I had a feeling that Ryan was, too.

“Now, Melanie, can you tell me what you feel is the most pressing issue?”

I thought about it for a moment before answering, “Ryan started changing two years ago, and not for the better. That’s the biggest problem”

Ryan turned to look at me in surprise. “I really thought you would want to start with everything that happened this weekend.”

“No,” I shook my head as I explained, “I think this weekend was the result of the changes in you. The changes are the disease. This weekend is just one symptom of it.

“Ryan,” Kim interjected. “What do you see as the biggest issue in your marriage?”

“Me,” he admitted. “I fucked up. Sorry,” he said as he winced, and Kim waved her hand in a dismissive gesture and told him that cursing didn’t bother her at all.

“I’ve found that when we try to censor our words, we end up censoring our thoughts as well, and then we can’t be as open and forthright as we need to be in order for therapy to be effective.”

“OK, so I fucked up. Majorly this weekend, and in lots of smaller ways over the past two years. Melanie’s right, I have changed and now that I’m coming to realize that,” he paused and brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck, “I don’t like what I see.”

“Melanie, what do you mean when you say that Ryan had changed?”

“He started to withdraw a little over two years ago, but that was understandable because he was grieving the deaths of his father and his best friend. My father-in-law, Phil, died suddenly of a massive heart attack, and then two months later, Grady was killed in a car accident.”

I glanced at Ryan, who was staring at the wall in front of us, with his jaw clenched and his hands gripping his thighs. The right one wasn’t as swollen today, but the skin was mottled with purple bruising.

“Then, about eighteen months ago, his friend Mitch moved back to town, and that’s when it seemed like Ryan started having a midlife crisis or something. He started doing everything Mitch was doing, as if they were joined at the hip. He quit the gym he’d gone to for years and got a membership at the one Mitch went to and then started working out all the time. He traded in his truck for a Corvette just like the one Mitch bought. He went from golfing once a month to twice a week.” I paused to take a breath, then launched back into everything that had happened. “Every damned time I turned around they were going to a ball game, or out on Mitch’s boat, or out for drinks, or to watch a fight. He’s missed dinners, vacation, the boy’s games and senior prom, date nights, family gatherings…my birthday.”

I gave Ryan literal side-eye for that one, and he had the good sense to look uncomfortable and embarrassed. I shifted in my seat so I could face him and address my comments to him directly, instead of to Kim.

“At first, I was happy to see you going out and enjoying life again, but then it started getting out of hand. I didn’t want to push too much, because I knew how much you’d missed having Grady here. I thought maybe it was just a phase, and once the newness of having Mitch back in town faded, things would go back to normal, but they didn’t. I still tried to be understanding and tread lightly because you were hurting, but it was as if you were trying to stay busy so you could outrun your grief.” I stopped and tried to swallow around the sudden tightness in my throat.

Kim gestured to the bottles of water on the table, and I reached for one and took a sip.

“You were rarely home, and when you were, you weren’t actually present. You were distracted, and antsy, and acted as if it was a hardship to be there. Every time I mentioned it – asked you to stay home or do something with us instead of with Mitch – it would end in an argument. When you called me a nag and complained that I was always ‘riding your ass’, I finally stopped asking.”

Ryan looked distinctly uncomfortable, and I was so angry that I was on the verge of tears, which just pissed me off even more.

“I know you were grieving, dammit, but we were, too. We missed Grady and your dad, almost as much as you did. Then, we missed you, too, because you were almost never home, and when you were, you weren’t the husband and father we knew.”

Ryan started to interrupt, but I just kept talking.

“You became so self-absorbed and started criticizing everything and everyone. You complained that the boys and their friends were too loud and you couldn’t hear the game on TV, even though it had never been a problem before. You complained that I wasn’t any fun, because I couldn’t just drop everything and do whatever it was you wanted to do on the spur of the moment. Newsflash, Ryan, I couldn’t just drop everything because you’d already done that! One of us had to be the responsible one, and it sure as hell wasn’t you.”

Ryan shot a quick look at Kim as if hoping she’d intervene, but she just calmly sat there and listened.

“You complained about the food, the laundry, and the cleaning, but you weren’t home anymore to help with any of it. I was so busy trying to take care of everything else that I had no time to take care of myself, and then you had the fucking audacity to criticize me for letting myself go!”

Ryan shot me a startled look and immediately objected.

“I’ve never said you were letting yourself go! I think you’re beautiful and sexy and amazing, and I tell you that all the time!”