He may have been right when he said that it’s all about the details, noticing the little things. Trouble is, our brains are wired differently, so the details that matter to me are not the same ones that matter to him.
In the years since I moved to Sweden, I made priorities that included being able to more than support myself, never getting into vulnerable situations (economically, financially) again.
For him, the priority is having the right pair of shoes and looking cool in them.
I didn’t realize it was this pervasive or stark until too late.
That is not to say that I don’t agree with him. I ignore these details and can be very stubborn about fixes. But when I promise to fix something, I do it even if it takes a long, long time. I fixed so many other things in my own life and in his, but it was not apparently the stuff that he prioritized, and his patience ran out. Or his resolve to sobriety, given how brutal his approach was.
He said eventually, “I’m not that guy.”
Without recounting the nightmare of his addled mind and anxieties, I can say… I’m not that girl, either.