"Why would I hug you?"

On Thurs., June 16, I came home feeling frustrated. I had been trying to make myself heard at school about some issues with the schedule; wasn't working.  I was feeling a lot of tension on my teaching team, and a lack of support. I had several frustrations with JJ too. He crashed our car at the beginning of May. It wasn't worth it to get it repaired so he donated it. My parents lent their Prius and he has been driving it to work ever since. But he hasn't shown any recognition that it isn't actually his, or ours; he also hasn't expressed a word of appreciation. He has been driving to work using my EZ Pass, and that's adding $100 to my monthly expenses. Also, I had been trying to organize a birthday party for the kids, and had mentioned several times that I wanted to talk to him to make a final decision about where we'd have it. He was kind of blowing me off, avoiding the conversation. He had handled it similarly last year, avoiding the conversation and ignoring me. That morning I had made a spreadsheet of 6 different options--prices, amenities, pros, cons. I emailed it to him and asked him to rank them. But I felt kind if resentful having to take the time to do that--why couldn't we have just talked about it? Was this going to be the pattern, a source of conflict, every year? Would a fun, joyful day always become a chore and a tedious fight?1 And I didn't like feeling like I was giving him so much power to make the call, like a secretary gathering all this information only for him to decide. I have my opinions too, and realistically, I have done the planning and paying for parties in the past and I expect it will be the same this year. He had responded with his top 3 choices, and fortunately there was one idea that was on my list too, the pool. So, on the positive side, we were able to decide. On the negative side, though, I felt a little bitter about what it took to make the decision. It felt like I was putting a major effort into gathering information, trying to listen to him, make everyone happy, and he was putting in no effort. And not appreciating my efforts, either. Finally, I felt frustrated because I had been shopping for Father's Day cards, and he had not given me any card on Mother's Day. And I noticed his dad's Father's Day card to JJ on the table, and felt annoyed that his dad sends me a check for $50 for Mother's Day, and a check for $100 for Father's Day to JJ. On all other holidays, he addresses a card to both of us, but writes a check only to JJ. I try not to let it bother me, but it does--I mean, are we family, or aren't we? Are we equal? One more thing, I received my mom's will in the mail that day, in which she referred to me as "Amy Roberts-O'Connell." It irritated me because it reminded me that when I'd asked JJ if he wanted me to change my name to O'Connell, he said no..."all the teachers at my school use their maiden names." At the time, and all along, it has been hard to believe that our marriage is real, something to be proud of and celebrate. So this had felt like another missed opportunity to make it known that this is the real thing, that we're in it for real, for life. Because of that conversation, I remained Amy Roberts. And for me , my name is a symbol now of our estrangement, of being only partially in, of independence. I guess I may have told my mom, in more hopeful times, that who knows, maybe I'd change it later, that she could add O'Connell to my name; I didn't care then. Now, though, given our state, it feels like a lack of recognition of all the things I've said. Taking some power away from me to choose my name and what it represents to me. So I felt annoyed when I saw she had put it that way in a legal document. 

By the time I got home, I was frustrated thinking of all of this. I wanted to get it off my chest. So I told JJ everything I wrote above: frustrated about work, about the car, about planning the party. At the end, I said, "I'm just really tired. And I need a hug."

He said, "why would I hug you? You just told me how evil I am and berated me for half an hour." 

I was stunned. I said, "what? I wasn't berating you, I was expressing a few frustrations. Yes, some frustrations were about you. But they were specific, and honest and, if you really think about it, they are reasonable. I didn't say you are evil, I said I'm frustrated about work, and the car, and the birthday party, and I'm tired and I need a hug." 

He still would not hug me. We never hug anyway. But we haven't hugged since.