@Optomystic I think back to what it was REALLY like being with him and all of a sudden I feel glad that it’s over.
Yes - this! Although my mind often plays tricks on me and I remember things as rosier than they were. Sometimes it’s not until I actually go through the motions of doing that activity again that I have the true feelings of what it was really like bubble up.
For instance, DS 21 is staying for a few days and yesterday I cooked a roast dinner for him, DD19 and her boyfriend.
There was always something wrong with my Sunday roast. I used to work so hard to make it perfect, I even used to cook him some separate potatoes because he complained mine were too crunchy and fluffy and he preferred them cooked with the meat which changed the texture of them (made them a bit soggy and rubbery if I’m honest but he would insist on them cooked that way) - or the gravy was always too thin because it moved around slightly on the plate. There were never enough peas and always too many carrots or some other quantity issue for him to get upset over.
I’d ask him to carve the meat and he would complain about doing it. Everything else would have to be out of the oven before the meat according to his rules. The meat wasn’t ever allowed to rest before carving because he thought that would mean it would get cold. He’d be “too tired” to carve the meat or he’d be late back from playing his sport with his affair partner. He used to get ratty with me for asking him what time he’d be back and couldn’t commit to a time or he’d say “just eat without me”. This was the one time during the week we’d eat together at the table. He was always “too tired” or “too stressed” to eat at the table any other time.
After we’d eaten he would order the kids to help tidy up and fuck off to the lounge with his wine. I used to drink a glass or two of wine while cooking the roast and it was always tempting to drink more. I think it was to subconsciously numb my feelings ready for his complaints. I’m completely teetotal now.
I’d honestly forgotten all of those shitty points until I went through the physical motions of making a roast and I was transported back to how it really felt.
At the time though, I gaslit myself into thinking we were happy.