Chapter 6 - My Own Need To Be Right
I became unbearable for a while.
Not publicly.
Privately.
I needed Richard to be wrong about everything.
The affair.
The money.
The company.
Our marriage.
If he had one fair point, I felt the entire structure of my case might collapse.
That was trauma speaking through accounting logic.
Binary.
Debit.
Credit.
Right.
Wrong.
Harrison finally told me:
“You are allowed to be harmed without becoming flawless.”
I hated him.
Then listened.
I had made mistakes.
I stayed in the CFO role too long because part of me enjoyed being the person Richard needed to make complex things credible.
Being useful felt safe.
My father had left when I was seven.
My mother survived by becoming indispensable at work.
She taught me:
People may stop loving you. They rarely stop needing competence.
I learned the lesson too well.
In marriage, I made competence my insurance policy.
I knew the finances.
Managed taxes.
Handled insurance.
Reviewed investments.
Richard sometimes complained:
“You make every decision feel like an audit.”
I heard sexism.
Sometimes it was.
Sometimes I was actually using expertise to avoid being vulnerable.
When he asked:
“Do you trust me?”
I answered with documentation.
When I became pregnant after two losses, fear made me tighten even more.
I wanted money safe.
Schedules safe.
Prenatal plans safe.
Richard felt examined everywhere.
That did not cause his affair.
Did not authorize deceptive transfers.
Did not make Vanessa shove me.
But depth requires the part where I admit:
I had begun treating being correct as the same thing as being secure.
It isn’t.
Evidence can establish facts.
It cannot make a marriage emotionally safe.
May you like
Only behavior can do that.
And by the time I learned the distinction, ours had become a courtroom before either of us filed anything.
