I don’t expect flowers or a special dinner, but some kind of recognition would be nice. Am I being unreasonable?
Author: I use this answer sparingly, for obvious reasons, but here I think it’s apt:
The problem lies almost as much in your asking me as it does in your spouse’s silence.
Let’s back all the way up for a sec, to the beginning: What did you say to your spouse about the nonresponse when you published your first book?
First! Book! I mean, newspaper writers write a lot of books — so I know writers of big, little, multiple and best-selling books. And every time it’s a Big Deal. So much work.
Therefore, a notable thing happened to launch your writing career — and a notable thing did not happen in your marriage in response.
Yet we are talking about it now as if you haven’t broached the subject with your spouse, ever. So I am wondering what you said or did when you first witnessed the yawning void where a loved one’s normal supportive gestures would have been. Even superficial performative ones (in the event of differing tastes).
The response I’d expect is along these lines: “I just did something big; at least, it was big for me — and when you let a milestone like that go by without saying anything to me at all, I was stunned, and I still feel hurt.”
If you haven’t been that direct — if instead you’ve poked and nudged around the subject hoping your spouse would volunteer … something — then we’re long past treating this as a narrowly defined spousal failure to take you out to a celebratory dinner.
Because what you’re telling me here is the time between now and your last real conversation with your spouse can be measured in book publications. It has been at least three book publications since you and your spouse last told each other the truth.
Please give that idea careful thought. Weigh for how long and to what extent your marriage has calcified, then use those two data points to get at the why.
Then invite your spouse to talk. Really talk. And listen.
Congratulations on your new career, by the way, and good luck.
Dear Carolyn: My sister “Wendy” has always been the “marches to her own drummer” sibling. She’s smart, has a terrific job, a loving family, etc., but has always seemed a little out of step with the rest of the world.
Several years ago, “Liz” — another sister — took me aside and said she and her husband had started to think Wendy was somewhere on the autism spectrum. I felt a lot of Wendy-related things immediately click into place in my head and make sense.
Liz feels very strongly that we should say and do NOTHING. My feeling is equally strong in the other direction. I have two dear school friends who weren’t diagnosed with autism until their 50s. Both shared with me their enormous sense of relief and self-acceptance stemming from this diagnosis.
I have even suggested we share our thoughts with Wendy’s husband and allow him to raise the subject with Wendy in some gentle, organic way. Liz nixes this as well. I would really appreciate your thoughts.
Indiana Sibling: If you can forgive me for not weighing in on whether and what to tell Wendy, then I might have something useful to say about you and Liz.
You are not a “we” here. You are not joined by restrictions on privileged information, because Liz did not give you information that only she has access to or is supposed to have.
Liz didn’t give you information at all, in fact. Not about Wendy. All you got from Liz were her thoughts. You now have your thoughts, which you can give or not to anyone as you see fit.
You and Liz each know as much about Wendy as you ever did.
So, again, there’s no “we” in any conversations you do or don’t have with Wendy about information you don’t have. If you want to talk to Wendy someday about your experiences with your friends and connections you made to Wendy, then that’s your prerogative.
I do recommend talking about this with Liz before saying boo to Wendy, though, if that’s the way you decide to go here — and also saying nothing of Liz to Wendy. That’s basic accountability hygiene.
I also recommend thinking of Wendy in terms of Wendy and not in terms of your other friends. You can be so right about their sense of relief and still be wrong that Wendy will share it.
Maybe get out of your certainty for a bit, and really listen for things Liz understands about Wendy that you don’t (or vice versa). And that Wendy accepts in herself.
