Today I realized that couples rely upon shared engagement, as well as concurrent disengagement. By that I mean that couples eat together and discuss together – shared engagement – but they also enjoy escaping together: watching a play or a movie, trivia night at the local pub, running together with your own playlists, etc. Often it is some combination of escapism and thoughtful stimulation, such as visiting a museum or attending a baseball game. Therapists frequently recommend a regular date night to maximize the opportunity for this engagement/disengagement, but honestly just sitting next to each other while watching sitcoms can serve this purpose.
In our case, our lives, like others’, require this to occur in the evenings: after work, after dinner, after kids. As the day begins its downward slope, not only am I starting to conserve energy or patience, but my tolerance for fiction, film, fantasy begins to wane. I’ve found that pain has obliterated my ability to suspend my disbelief enough to enjoy escapism by entertainment. I cannot watch a show without being hyper-cynical and meta about the medium, the creators, the message, etc. Before my body began failing, if there was no interesting cinema, Sandy and I would just enjoy a leisurely dinner out. But now that eating out is an exercise in frustration, date night is not worth the cost of the babysitter. So, we end up spending our evenings separately. He retires to the library to play or watch something. I hang out in the living room often on Facebook.
I think it is more complicated than us having differing entertainment choices in the evening. Sandy’s job pummels him throughout the day. He, too, exerts colossal effort to be fully engaged in the evenings through family dinner. He, too, is frayed and done by the time the boys are in bed. He yearns for escape through entertainment. I, on the other hand, sink so low that the prospect of entertainment worsens my mood. It is the evenings when I am pained and spent that I most need compassion and commendation. My network of Facebook friends who struggle with pancreatitis and pancreatic cancer are often in the same place. It is in the evenings when Sandy most wants to avoid drama and depression. Our timing couldn’t be worse.
The other night, however, Sandy came home from a late thing and sat with me on the couch. He asked how my doctor’s appointment had gone. He invited me to put my feet in his lap. I know he was exhausted and the last thing he needed was to be inundated with my anxiety and misery, but he listened attentively and compassionately, which makes me all that much more thankful for his effort.