Control
Sometimes I have thoughts like Does the Container store exist because marriage sucks?
When I was married, my former spouse and I would spend more than a few weekends a year organizing. I loved it. We’d pull everything out of the hallway closet, and KonMari’ed the shit out of it. It felt good. More than that, it felt like our marriage was oh so modern because when I told my mom what Ben and I did one Saturday, she said: wow, I could never get Dad to do that with me. My chest puffed out a bit: look at my husband, helping me do things.
It was easy to ask ourselves: does this plaid fleece sheet set spark joy? (It did not.) Not so easy to do the same with our marriage. We weren’t really having sex. Or at least not the kind of sex that makes you want to have more sex. And I had a secret crush on someone, and told myself: doesn’t everyone? (And for another post: crushes aren’t bad! It’s the secret ones that probably are.)
I looked at my extremely messy bathroom closet this morning. Sure, there are areas of the closet devoted to like-items, but it’s not well organized. It could use a container or two to reign in the hotel lotions (yes, I am a Depression-era grandma who keeps those), the various cough suppressants, and fake nails. But to subdue my toiletries would surely prompt: wow good job tell me what’s gotten out of hand in your life?
Am I being dramatic?
Co-parenting has been a MasterClass in How to Lose Control (and incredibly illuminating on how much I enjoy control).
50/50 parenting is great until you realize: shit, I can’t tell my (former) spouse what to do anymore?
And, if I’m to be honest, 50/50 parenting effort is what I wanted, but I wanted primary authority. I did most of the grocery shopping and cooking and meal planning. When we'd get bins of hand-me-down clothes, I’d cull them down to what I thought was cute. I’d ask for the latest NY Times bestseller kids’ books for Christmas gifts. (And this says nothing about how women in general do most of this labor anyway, but I have to wonder if many women insist on these activities to assert control.)
Now, 50% of the time I’m not choosing what my kids eat (probably too much spaghetti IMHO), what books are read to them at night (I hear they get a nightly Bible story), or, ahem, a little closer to home: the names they call their new step-mom. I simple don’t have control. And it’s nauseating.
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Control (says Etymonline) is: "The act of keeping under authority and regulation.”
Divorce has been a great, forced, un-learning of control. I think that’s a good thing. (Tell me your thoughts if you want.)