KIKA: It sounds as if you've got your wits about you since you're questioning your marriage. That's more than I've seen from a lot of people who post here with similar questions.
However it seems that, in your situation, both of you have a lot of your cards on the table. Understanding each other and being honest will make whatever you and he are destined for a lot easier on you, emotionally speaking. There doesn't seem to be anything to do at this point than to compromise. If he agreed to therapy would that be enough for you? Therapy can do only so much for a schizoid, or any personality disordered person. You both run the risk of reaching some kind of breaking point. Is it worth it to you? Is he a one-in-a-million type of guy? I'll stop here because I can't possibly even pretend to be able to put myself in your shoes and I don't want to steer you wrong. Reading on may help...
smirks wrote:The thing about SPD is...it isn't usually a sudden thing. I am mystified sometimes by the stories that I read about from people who are in relationships with those they suspect of having SPD. Like, personally, even as a fairly secret schizoid, it becomes really, really hard to mask my complete emotional unavailability and lack of attachment after a short time. How do these relationships even happen? It blows my mind.
I've always believed that love makes people a little ignorant and blind to what they don't want to see. Of course this can work the opposite way; being overly paranoid and clingy due to insecurity, but in this case, that kind of clingy paranoia tends to define the problems in a relationship. Histrionic behavior always overshadows the kind of schizoid apathy/avoidance we are discussing here.
Anyway, the ignorance I was talking about above also extends to all the facets of a relationship that lead to love. Courtship, for example. The empath has an innate need for romantic companionship, so he or she will unconsciously overlook the little signs that their schizoid partner is not as enthusiastic. ("diminish some details" as KIKA put it) This is how I got away with it. They make it easy. I can't speak for the people who have in the past claim to have fallen in love with me, but I suspect there has been a sort of blind hopefulness and a will to control: "He'll come around", or more simply put in pop music terms: "I will make him love me." So how do they express this? By being accommodating. By letting me dictate the terms of our time spent together. By giving me gifts. I figure if I'm already involved in some kind of courtship, why not go "full-on shallow" and try to manipulate more out of them? It's like:
damn! this relationship shlt is so easy! I just stand here and get complimented and people buy me dinner! This is not to say there was never any neediness on my part; no matter how secure I am in the belief of my emotional unavailability, there is always the belief that
maybe this time will be different. Being treated well further clouded my judgement.
But all of this falls apart the minute that ridiculous four letter L-word is first mentioned. It's as if it's some sacred incantation. Once it's said, any non-compliance on my part suddenly makes me the bad guy. The heartless one. I am accused of letting them on. By this time, it does me no good to remind them that they blithely ignored all the warning signs: my emotional aloofness, resisting eye contact, never instigating any kind of non-sexual affection. And sex makes it all the more complicated. To me, the sex was good because they were basically just another trick I could tolerate outside of bed. To them, the sex was my way of communicating the emotion I couldn't express verbally.
By this point, the whole thing is a great big ugly confusing mess. It implodes. The end. I watch TV alone on my couch while they sit home and cry in the dark. I do feel guilty, but only in a cognitive sense. I have no choice. It sucks.