Dining room table on hardwood floors with cream-colored floral chairs and a bouquet of yellow and purple flowers
The silence stretches between us, growing and growing like a physical presence separating us. Every night, it grows, and I sit silently at the dinner table, having lost my words. Sometimes, I’m so deep in my thoughts I forget where I am.
My husband got the raw deal. When we met, I was vibrant, confident, and even loud. As each day passes and I grow older, my confidence dips a little more and a little more. Lately, I’m quiet and insecure. I even speak softly. I see him getting irritated when he can’t hear me. Usually, I would obsess and worry, but now, I wait to see what will happen, filled with dread and anxiety about our marriage. I am waiting for the other shoe.
Lately, we sit in a room reading and not speaking for long periods. This scenario would be heaven without my worries about the dinner table. I think about subjects I could broach, but none seem interesting. So I ask him a question. He responds briefly, and we’re back to silence. Is this because we’re empty nesters? I used to look forward to an empty nest. It was time. My daughter needed to spread her wings. I had no guilt. But now? This situation may be an empty nest side effect.
Why am I so quiet these days? I just don’t have much to say. I’m more comfortable with my thoughts than with speaking. Eight years of working at home alone will do that. Plus, there was that whole medicine debacle. The one where I stopped one medicine I was taking and turned into an oversharing lunatic, and afterward felt like I had run naked through the town square, howling at the moon. I was so ashamed. I clammed up, not wanting to embarrass myself again. I’m almost phobic about it now.
Sometimes, before dinner, I think of something to say and then say it during meal preparations. During the meal, I realized I should have saved it for the dinner table. My quietness is affecting my marriage, and not in a good way. Is this a real marriage problem?
I wonder if we’re growing apart. I feel like we are, but my mind tricks me into thinking all manner of crazy ideas. I imagine catastrophes at every turn. Sometimes I think he doesn’t like me anymore, a scary thought. I know he loves me, but does he still like me? That’s the million-dollar question. I could twist myself into a pretzel trying to be what he desires, but I don’t even know what that is. Maybe I am obsessively worrying to no avail.
When the silence started, I thought it meant we were comfortable with each other, but then I began to worry. I’ve been anxious since the beginning. Sometimes, I convince myself I’m doing better or worse than I really am. I often talk myself out of reality.
I had a brilliant idea today to ask him. “Are you worried that we have nothing to discuss at dinner?” He said, “We talk all the time.” I said, “Not at dinner.” To which he replied incredulously, “We’re together all day, talking off and on.” I work at home, and he’s retired.
After talking at lunch today, he asked, “Alright, I brought up two topics. Do you have any?” I reminded him that I spoke about both of my kids. He says, “Yes, that’s right. You did. See, we talked at the table.” And just like that, what had been a massive issue in my mind (that would eventually end in divorce) is gone. Poof!
This afternoon, he told me all about an experience with our neighbor. Afterward, he said, “Darn it! I was supposed to save that for the dinner table!” We both laughed. Now, it’s a joke between us. “Can’t tell you that. I’m saving it for dinner.”
It would seem that I cooked up the whole dramatic scenario in my mind. It wouldn’t be the first time. Anxiety drives me sometimes. I wonder why I can’t remember to talk about disturbing subjects before they become dire.
Today, I’m wondering if we spend too much time together. Will he get tired of me? Perhaps I should send him away on a guys’ weekend. Will that be enough for him to miss me? And in a moment, I take one thing he said, “We’re together all the time,” and turn it into ammunition against myself. Maybe this time, I will talk about it before building a false end-of-marriage scenario in my mind. It would be a new behavior for me–to overcome my need to save something that doesn’t need saving.
For more information, see the Mayo Clinic article 11 Tips for Coping with Anxiety Disorder.