Part 12: Gratitude & Thanksgiving.

We entered November with more of the same. Rarely seeing him, delayed communication, gaslighting, avoiding questions. It also unlocked a new subject of contention for us that in hindsight was glaringly obvious. Convinced his behavioral metamorphosis could be helped with professional therapy/medical attention and medication if deemed necessary, I would ask (& sometimes beg) him to just make an appointment with someone. We had health insurance - our co-pays for the appointments and any prescribed medications were very affordable. Since he seemed to be constantly on edge regarding finances, I was caught off guard to see a charge on our bank statement from "ForHims". In asking him about it, he had the perfect response to disarm my suspicions and drop another breadcrumb of hope.

Not that my relief meant anything to him, clearly. He was adept at buying himself enough time to avoid accountability.

I began to question some of his travel dates and would sometimes wake up at two or three in the morning and have to ask where he was. "Closing" was always his response. Pretty sure a restaurant that closed at 9pm didn't take that long to clean. If it did, they seriously needed to re-evaluate their protocols.

I was very much looking forward to thanksgiving that year. I'm from a big family, and the holidays are some of the few times we all get to see each other. We were gathering that year at my aunt & uncle's place in Panama City Beach - a magazine-worthy house on the water perfectly set up for entertaining. Mom rented a house nearby, and I couldn't wait for a little time away. Maybe with the new medication and different surroundings he might be more like himself. My younger stepdaughter come down from college a couple days before we left and was going to join us as well. After she got in town, we went up to the restaurant to see him. He had just gotten back from an extensive travel trip (I was told), including a gig in Boston. As he was wiping off dining tables, she and I both noticed something on his forearm. "Did you get a new tattoo?" we both asked.

Him: "Yeah. (Restaurant Manager) & I got them in Boston."

Me: "Why was he with you in Boston?"

Him: "We needed extra labor."

Me: "Is your tattoo the Crichton Leprechaun?" (Google it if you are unfamiliar)

I will never forget the disdain, offense, and honestly hatred in his eyes when I asked. But why not? It was an ugly tattoo. His only comeback for any of my questions was that "I wasn't going to get one with him, so why does it matter?"

That had absolutely nothing to do with it. Silly me thought my spouse might just give me a heads up if he was getting a tattoo (I'm not saying ask permission - just acknowledge I'm a part of this marriage). Moreover, lately everything was rationalized with us not having enough money & him not having enough time in the day to call or text me. I personally do not have any tattoos (nothing against them; just not directly familiar with them), but I do think two things they require are money & time. I found out later that she drew it for him. Adorable.

He joined us for maybe 8 hours over our four days in PCB. Managing to avoid staying the night, the demands of the restaurant were clearly through the roof. He came to my aunt's house and sulked the whole time, talking to a few cousins and barely speaking to me. It appears they were hoping to reunite the Saturday of that weekend, which worked well for them since I wasn't driving back with our three kids until Sunday. I was hurt by his absence and just tried to create the memories that I could.

With all of his travel dates, I prayed his clear financial stress would begin to subside. Prior to owning the studio, I was a career event planner. I knew how much revenue those events generated, and with this many events scheduled:

I convinced myself there was progress being made somewhere. Unfortunately, nearly all of those were made up. The red dates below are his actual commitments.

I braced myself for the month ahead. I held onto hope for our own Christmas miracle because I wasn't sure how much more I could take.