I need to find a marriage counselor and make an appointment.
I don’t really want to.
I’m so tired of working on my marriage. So, so tired. It’s just hard to give a fuck anymore, you know? I mean, how many fucks should I be expected to give.
All the fucks. I should be willing to give all the fucks when my marriage is at stake. I know this.
Honestly, if I had the name and number of someone I would call. Today. I would do the intake interview and make the appointment and tell my husband when and where to be.
But I don’t have a name, and I don’t know where to start looking for one. It’s not an easy thing to get a referral for. It’s not something you ask your friends about, you know? Not that I mind admitting we’re having problems, but it puts people in an awkward place because it assumes they have had problems themselves.
Of course my husband and I could look together, but I guarantee you if I bring it up tonight my husband will sigh deeply, participate resentfully, and communicate how frustrated he is to be spending his limited and precious free time looking for marriage counselors with everything except his actual words. Is it even worth enduring that negativity? I should just suck it up and do it myself.
Ironically, that cycle of my avoiding his negativity, doing it myself and then feeling resentful about having to do it myself is a big part of why we’re going to counseling.
We’re both so tired, it’s genuinely hard to give a fuck. Especially when we’re so good at just getting through the days without actually getting upset at each other. Things aren’t even bad right now, but the minute something starts to chafe, we’ll be back at it again.
Which is why I need to find a marriage counselor. I guess I’ll do that today.