Dear Mrs. Bluth,
I am a fifty one year old man, married to the same woman for twenty-five years. I have been confined to a wheelchair for the past eight years. When I first met my wife, through a local shadchan, I was impressed by her strong personality and her determination to achieve her goals – a real alpha-female by today’s standards and the complete opposite of myself. At the tender age of eighteen she knew exactly what she wanted from life, where she wanted to live, how many children she would have and the lifestyle she aspired to. Being much more passive and laid back by nature, I was captivated and completely won over by her attitude and no nonsense approach and outlook. So it was no surprise that after a short courtship we married, moved into a home of her choosing and, over a space of years had four children. We were living the lifestyle she had planned.
All was well as long as she got what she wanted. However, were you to ask me if there was any true love and caring interwoven in this marriage, I would have to say no. What started out as infatuation, admiration and respect for her on my part quickly wore off and turned to disappointment. I soon found out that in order to have peace, I had to give in to her on all things and, in order to have any physical relationship with her, a gift of jewelry or the like from me had to be forthcoming. In order for me to be recognized as a worthy husband, I had to work long hours and bring home an impressive paycheck. Eight years ago, this intolerable situation changed for the worse.
I had been a successful and much sought after builder/contractor. While at work one particularly hard day, I fell through a poorly illuminated hole in the floor, down five levels onto a cement slab. I awoke several days later to discover that I had broken my neck and back and would likely never walk again. You can imagine the shock both my wife and I felt.
However, if you think she suddenly developed a sense of compassion, empathy and concern for me, you are sadly mistaken. All she was concerned with was if she was going to be able to keep the lifestyle she was accustomed to and how she was going to be accepted by her group of shallow friends now that she was burdened with a paraplegic husband. I tried to allay her fears by telling her that we would manage somehow, what with insurance and workman’s compensation and other benefits coming in. We could also sell our huge house and move into a smaller, one level home that could be converted to suit my needs.
But when I mentioned that she could get a job to help with the bills, she totally lost it. I will never forget the look of complete revulsion she gave me. Without another word, she picked herself up and left my hospital room, not returning until weeks later when I had been cleared to go home.
That’s when my living hell began.
Two of our children were learning in Eretz Yisroel and the two younger ones were reluctant to be with me for any length of time. The number of family and friends who, at the beginning, came by to visit and spend time trickled over the ensuing weeks until they dried up altogether. My children looked for any opportunity to be away from the house, so as not to hear the daily tirades their mother unleashed on whomever was in her vicinity. My wife, resentful at having to take a full-time job so as not to have to give up the sprawling house, became bitter and verbally abusive. In her state of constant anger, she would “forget” to bring me my medicines, or take forever to bring me water or food and I would have to wait until the day nurse or physical therapist would arrive. I was terrified at being left alone with her and at her mercy for pain medicine or sustenance. It was not long until I sank into a deep depression, waiting to mercifully end my misery.
And then, eleven months ago, a new day nurse arrived. This sweet, compassionate woman brought the will to live back into my life. Under her care and with her encouraging and hopeful support, I began to make progress in my physical therapy and we saw amazing improvements in many areas that even impressed the doctors. Along with her genuine kindness and endless patience, she also brought along a The Jewish Press each Wednesday, and would read your columns to me. It became one of my most pleasurable lifelines and I looked forward to Wednesdays every week.
Sadly, my uncaring wife replaced her with an uncaring, indifferent male attendant, but not before she reduced this wonderful woman to tears by making a terrible report about her to the agency. In her absence, what keeps me getting better are the words of encouragement she shared with me and the advice I garnered from reading your column.
I just wanted to let her and you know what a difference both of you have made in my life. Thank you.
Dear Friend,
What a rare letter yours is. I am humbled and grateful that this column plays a role in your improved wellbeing and that you shared with us the unfortunate circumstances that emboldened you to write.
I have often said that spousal abuse and violence is gender neutral. Although far more women are victimized, there are a large cluster of men who fall victim to controlling and abusive wives, bosses and supervisors, and from time-to-time they are share with us. What inhibits men who are victims of such abuse from going public is the shame and embarrassment – and the fear of appearing wimpy and unmasculine. Since our society has defined the roles of men and women, this is not acceptable. So they suffer in silence, just as many women do. I thank you for speaking out about your ordeal and, perhaps, encouraging others to come forward and reach out for help.
The expression, “what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger” may well apply to you in both the positive and the negative. However, you could not have been surprised that your “alpha-wife” was not someone who would support a warm, loving and mutually respectful union. Her “me, myself and I” must be abrasive to your giving and easy-going nature. When you suffered your unfortunate accident, it is no shocker that she would translate your painful altered state as of far less importance when matched to her sudden change of life plan.
What I find painful and sad is that your children seem to draw more from their mother’s persona than yours. It is wonderful that the Almighty sent you a human angel, who nurtured your spirit in the darkest of times and brought you back into the world of the living, where, I hope and pray you will stay and continue to get better. Please keep in touch and let us know how you are doing. There are many wonderful people who read this column and they care deeply about whoever writes in.
May you continue to improve and go from strength to strength with Hashem’s help.