Wednesday, 6 July 2011

End of terms

My husband never speaks of what he sees, does or feels but only of what he knows. While hovering patiently on the edge of every conversation he listens with intent, void of any expression waiting for a prompt on which to hang his factual download. On finding his mark he pounces with a carefully assembled nugget of information and in an instant, the conversational flow is altered and his audience scrabbles to politely cover the seams.
If asked he would say he is good at social interaction.

I find it both isolating and frustrating that conversing in any other way is alien to him. He continues to treat any question as an effrontery to his integrity leaving me to struggle to understand why how far the airport parking is from the terminal is as an insult simply because he does not know the answer, or why enquiring as to the delivery date of the roaming simcard he has ordered is so contentious.
If asked, he would say that is I who am unable to solicit information without antagonism.
However, it is not his inclination to anger I struggle with most but his frequent and extended periods of silence along with his refusal to engage with any warmth at any time. Last night, at our children’s end of term school concert, was no exception.
The hot and humid summers evening promised to turn the school hall into a sauna but the discomfort that lay ahead did not deter the number of proud parents who decided to attend. Throughout an hour and half of musical recitals I repeatedly turned to my husband to share a smile at the remarkable expertise of the young artists. Not once did he return my glance in acknowledgement let alone reveal a flicker of a smile in return. It is this way I am continually denied the opportunity to share any mutual enjoyment. 
If asked why he behaved in this way he would simply reply that it was not the case and merely my perception.

So, this morning, I sit alone at my kitchen table while my husband occupies another room. My task today is to prepare the papers to wind up our insolvent property development company. Heritable Bank's administrators have now sold all our company assets and thankfully plan to write off our £209,000 company mortgage shortfall. This leaves me at liberty to finally put an end to our company's trading days without creditor objection. While folding the paperwork I consider what is to become of my marriage when my HBOS battle, our last remaining adversary, eventually reaches its conclusion in however many more years to come.
I cannot help but wonder if my husband's retreat into his emotionally impervious shell might have been halted had it not been for the heartless and negligent actions of the HBOS.  Unlike Heritable Banks administrators, HBOS have been unable to show compassion at anytime. Perhaps, my husband's demeanor might have been very different if they had at least allowed us to salvage our home when the economic crisis  turned our property portfolio of 4.5m with equity of £1,200,000 into an overall shortfall of £500,000.
It is during these episodes of loneliness that I begin to doubt my ability to keep my marriage alive and our family together throughout more years of HBOS harassment.  It has become clear to me that if I am unable to save my relationship and our family life, HBOS will have succeeded in taking all that we ever had and all that we had  ever hoped for, and not just our money.

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