I Think My Husband Has Unresolved Emotional Trauma

Below is a short story based on true events. A married woman was concerned about her husband’s emotional state after the death of a coworker. I was inspired to make it into a short story. What would you do if you were in her situation? Comment your thoughts or advice below. Next week, I will read your thoughts on what she should do next and use them to make a part two.

The sun’s rays peaked through the blinds of my Chicago home. My skin glowed as I looked out the window. The day seemed too perfect for it to feel so gloomy, but I supposed no matter what the weather looks like, the day of a funeral always feels dark.

I watched my husband struggle to snap his cufflinks. His spirit was full of grief, grief I didn’t quite understand, as we prepared for the funeral of his late coworker.

They had only been working together for three months, and he said he didn’t know her very well. But honestly, death is a tricky situation. Days like this, church folks usually celebrate and quote II Timothy 4:7, but death is hard to process sometimes, especially when it is tragic and sudden. His coworker, Denise, died suddenly, which in itself can feel tragic.

“Here, babe, let me help you with that,” I walked over to help him put on his cufflinks.

“Thanks,” he sighed.

My husband Derrick always has an optimistic glow in his eyes. I was troubled to see that glow disappear, but as I said, death is a tricky situation. I was worried Denise’s death triggered his mother’s death. She died right after we got married, but he remained optimistic throughout the entire process. I was worried about him then, but I’m definitely worried about him now. I’m not sure if he ever completely processed her death. He never talked about her dying and seemed to have moved on quickly. She also died suddenly. What was supposed to be the start of an adventure for our honeymoon, turned into a tragic funeral.

Two weeks will mark the tenth year anniversary of his mom’s death, and it will also mark our tenth year anniversary. I already made plans for us, but maybe now is a good time to go on our honeymoon. I don’t want to distract him from healing, but I just hate to see him so down.

“You okay, babe?” I gently placed my hand across the bottom of his cheek.

“Yeah, I’m fine, babe. You know, I’ve never been good with funerals,” he cleared his throat, leaving me with uncertainty.

“Thinking about your mom?”

“That obvious, huh?”

“Or I just know you well,” I smiled.

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about her.”

“I can tell something is on your mind. Has the death of your coworker brought up some things you may need to get off your chest?”

“Nah, I’m good. I’m just thinking about her. Good thoughts though. I’m fine. Besides, I didn’t know Denise very well.”

“Okay, I just want to make sure you’re okay. You seem a little tense. I know you haven’t known her for long, but deaths are never easy to process. I’m here if you need me, baby.”

“I’m fine, babe. Thank you,” he leaned over and kissed me. His half-cracked smile left me with more uncertainty. We’ve been together for nearly 15 years. I can tell when things aren’t right with him, but I decided not to push. I trust he will come to me if he truly needs it.

The sun’s rays followed us as they shined through the stained windows of the church. Red, blue, and green reflected against the left side of Derrick’s face. We sat in the back and watched as many got acclimated.

It’s funny how we share so many moments in church. You can share the happiest moment of your life in church and possibly the most devastating moment. I think about that sometimes when I look at Derrick’s dad’s life. He was so happy to marry the love of his life in their church, and he was completely devastated when he said goodbye at her funeral, held at the same church. Looking back, he shared how all nine of his kids were also christened there. They even had birthday parties. If the church walls could talk, they could say a lot.

We sat there and watched everyone hug, laugh, and cry. It looked like a family reunion. It’s sad that sometimes families only come together when someone dies. Well, at least my family does. We seem to only come together if something awful happens or something good. There’s no happy medium.

“Hey, Derrick,” a gentleman and young lady walked up.

“Hey, Patrick. Hey, Shonda.”

“Hey, D. How are you holding up?” Shonda asked with concern.

“Oh, I’m fine. I’m good. You good?”

“I’m sad, of course. I still can’t believe it. One minute we’re all having fun and hanging out and the next minute she’s gone.”

“Yeah, I know. Life can be crazy sometimes. This is my wife, Mya. Mya, this is Patrick and Shonda. We all work together.”

“Hi,” Shonda cleared her throat. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you as well. Terribly sorry about your friend.”

“Thank you. Well, we’re going to find Josie. Save us seats?” — Shonda

“Yeah, sure.” — Derrick

I watched the two of them walk off. Shonda turned to take a look at me before walking off.

“Her and Denise were close?” I asked.

“I believe so. I used to hear them talk about going out, so I guess. We don’t talk often. She’s still kind of new too.”

“How long has she been there?”

“Maybe five months.”

“Oh, ok,” I said, glancing back as I noticed her and Patrick returning with another woman.

Once the funeral began, people went up to share sweet memories of Denise. She sounded like such a sweetheart. It’s hard to be happy for someone that has passed on. It seems like we’re taught to celebrate birth and taught to grieve death as children. Some people even feel bad celebrating or moving on with their life once their loved one passes on. Denise sounded like she was an amazing addition to earth. I suppose it’s bittersweet for many. You want to be happy they moved on, but it leaves a bitter feeling.

“We should go up and say something,” Shonda suggested.

“Uhh, maybe y’all can go up. I’ll stay here,” Derrick responded.

“Why? She was our friend. Let’s pay our respects.”

“I said no, Shonda,” Derrick snapped. Shonda looked agitated but got up to stand in line to speak about Denise. Patrick and their friend Josie followed.

“You okay, babe?” I questioned.

“Yeah, she just bugs me sometimes. She’s aggressive and annoying.”

“Why? I thought you said you didn’t know Denise very well.”

“Exactly. I only came to support everyone. What can I possibly say about her?”

I rubbed his back as we continued to sit and listen to everyone share stories. When it was Shonda’s turn, more of their coworkers joined and stood next to her. She shared some touching memories. It seemed as if she and Denise were more than coworkers. I understood where she was coming from. I met my best friend Tam at our first job. That was 20 years ago. We were teens. I couldn’t imagine losing my best friend. I placed myself in her shoes and began to cry. Then she said…

“I wish we all could have come up to pay our respects to you, Denise. I think you deserved that much, or perhaps you deserved more. I love you and I will miss you, my friend.”

I looked over at Derrick, who was scrapping the palm of his hand with his thumb. What is her deal, I thought to myself. I understand that was her friend, but Derrick didn’t even know her well. I decided to let it be since, as I mentioned before, death is a tricky situation. It’s hard to process, and I know some get caught up in their emotions. I didn’t want to make the situation a big deal, but Shonda was about to get on my nerves.

As the service continued, people sang, and then the pastor spoke. I looked over at Derrick. I watched him as he picked the callus in the palm of his right hand. His behavior was out of the norm.

I grew more concerned by what seemed like the minute, and rightly so, as I noticed the palm of his hand shedding blood.

“Baby, you’re bleeding.” He had picked his callus to the point it was sore and bloody.

“Huh?” He looked down, shocked by the amount of blood. “Oh, shit. I’ll be back.”

“Are you okay,” I said with concern as he stood up to leave.

“I’ll be back.”

I gave Derrick a few minutes before I got up to meet him at the restroom. Once he came out, we both agreed we should leave and go home. The ride home was quiet and quite eerie. I wanted to ask him what was bothering him but thought perhaps I should give him space. I figured things would get back to normal tomorrow, but to my surprise, things were worse.

“Derrick, what’s going on? You’ve been acting weird since the funeral. Baby, it’s okay if something is bothering you. Just tell me what it is so we can get through this. Is this about your mom?”

“My mom? What’s my mom got to do with this?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes situations like this can trigger things we haven’t fully dealt with.”

“So you’re saying I haven’t dealt with my mom’s death?”

“I’m just saying maybe this funeral triggered something you haven’t fully dealt with. Maybe it has something to do with your mom. Maybe it doesn’t. I don’t know. I just know you’ve been all over the place since the funeral.”

“ I’ve been all over the place? So you’re calling me unstable?”

“What is going on here? This is not like you. I’m just trying to figure out what is going on. How can I help?”

“Nothing is the matter,” he became defensive.

“Okay, well, you don’t have to be so aggressive. I think we can both agree you’re not being yourself right now.”

“Maybe this is who I am. Perhaps if you paid more attention to me, you’d notice.”

“What? Where is this coming from?”

“I’m going for a walk.”

I stood there utterly confused as he walked out the back door. I didn’t know how to take that comment. What does he mean if I paid more attention to him? I didn’t understand where his unbalanced emotions were coming from. I was starting to think this was more than missing his mom, but I wasn’t sure.

I waited for him to return, but when he did not show up an hour later, I called his phone and heard it vibrating on the kitchen counter. I picked it up, entering his password, but it did not work. He changed it. Why would he change his password, I thought to myself. So I went and grabbed a photo of him, hoping face recognition would work and it did.

The first message I saw was from Shonda. She seemed pretty angry about him not going up to speak at Denise’s funeral. I decided to give her a call. Maybe she was the cause of the shift in his behavior. Maybe she was making the work environment unhealthy.

“Hello,” she answered.

“Shonda, hi. This is Mya, Derrick’s wife.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t mean to be so forward, but what is going on? Why do you keep bothering him about not speaking at Denise’s funeral? I understand that was your friend, and you gave such a beautiful speech about her, but he didn’t really know her. Why do you keep sending him such condescending messages?”

“He didn’t really know her? We worked together for two years.”

“Okay, you’ve worked together for two years. He has only known her for three months.”

“Is that what he told you?” She laughed. “Perhaps you should ask him why he’s lying and why none of us knew he had a wife.” She hung up as he walked through the door.

“How long did you know Denise?” I asked without hesitation.

“What? I already told you. A few months.”

“Shonda says you’ve all been working together much longer than that.”

“What? Why are you talking to Shonda? How did you get in my phone?”

“Why did you change your password? Tell me what is going on.”

“Stay out of my phone,” he snatched his phone.

“We always use each other’s phones. What’s the big deal? What are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything. Stay out of my phone.”

“How long have you known Denise? You can tell me if she meant something to you, babe. I won’t be upset if you two were close friends. It’s okay to be hurt by her death.”

“Don’t you talk about her. Don’t say anything about her.”

“What is going on, Derrick? Please! I’m only trying to help. I’m here for you, baby. I love you.”

“Just give me space.”

“Space? Space for what? I don’t understand why you need space if you didn’t know her well.”

“Mya, I’m tired, and I just want to go to bed right now. I’m going to shower.”

Once again, I stood there dumbfounded as he walked away. I gave him some time before I followed him upstairs.

I went into our bedroom and heard the shower running. I peeked into the restroom and could see him standing under the water with his head down. He stood with both hands up against the wall. I got undressed and stepped into the shower with him. My hand went up his back to his neck before he turned to face me. It appeared he had been crying, which worried me. Before I could say anything, our lips met, and the next thing I knew we were making love. Derrick had never made love to me like this before. There was so much passion between us. It was like he was a totally different person. He carried me to the bed, where we finished. Drenched in water and sweat, he moved with great speed before climaxing. He kissed my lips and rubbed the side of my cheek. I then realized I hadn’t seen this side of him in quite some time. I smiled before I kissed him once more. I then held him in my arms as we drifted off to sleep.

We both woke up in the middle of the night for the second go-around. I thought to myself, maybe this is what he needed. Maybe he needed to feel the love between us, or maybe I was a fool and he was compensating what was bothering him with sex. I love my husband and wanted to be a fool for him, but I knew something was bothering him and something wasn’t right. I just didn’t know whether I wanted to keep pushing him to find out, or if I should just let it go in hopes things would work themselves out.

I decided to go with the latter until sex became an issue. I loved seeing this new side of him, and I loved him exploring my body as if we were newlyweds again, but as time went by it became more obvious that he was just using sex as a distraction to avoid whatever pain he was feeling. I wanted to come to his rescue and bear his pain, but it became too much for me.

“I just feel like you always want to have sex now. What’s up?”

“Is it wrong that I want to make love to my wife?”

“I didn’t say that. It just feels like you’re going through something, and you’re using sex to deal with your pain. I feel used. I want to bear your pain, but I want us to talk about it, baby. I’m here for you.”

“So you don’t want to have sex?”

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

“I heard you, and I want you,” he began to unbutton my blouse.

“Derrick, stop. Either we’re going to talk about what’s going on with you, or I’m going to bed.”

“Fuck, Mya. Why do you always have to pressure me? I’m good.”

“No, you’re not. Just tell me what’s going on. I will help you.”

“Stop. Just stop. You’re helping me by making love to me.”

“So you admit there’s an issue?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Alright, I’m going to bed.”

“Why you gotta be like that? Everything was going good. Why you gotta mess things up?”

“Because you’re not being yourself. You’re using sex to cope. I’m not your sex puppet. I’m your wife. If you’re going to make love to me, I want it to be because you want to. Not because you’re going through something and don’t want to deal with it.”

“Stop saying I’m dealing with something. You’re the only one saying that. Just stop.”

“How long did you know Denise? Who is she to you?”

“What? Where is this coming from?”

“Why did Shonda say no one knew you were married?”

“Why are you talking to her?”

“Who was Denise to you? Huh? Who was she?”

“Nobody.”

“Who was she?”

“NOBODY!”

“WHO THE FUCK WAS SHE?”

“SHE WAS EVERYTHING TO ME!”

“What?” I held my chest.

“She was fucking everything to me,” he said through tears. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“Everything? EVERYTHING?”

“I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry. She was there. She was just there. I… I just…” he searched for the words to say. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I pushed past him and went into the restroom where I locked the door. “Mya, please,” he banged on the door. “Mya, please open the door. Let me explain. I don’t want to lose you. I tried to work this out on my own” he cried. “I can’t. I can’t do this shit on my own anymore. Please come out.”

“How long?”

“It doesn’t matter. I want you. It doesn’t matter.”

“You want me? She was everything to you, so how do you want me?”

“It’s always been you, babe. She was just there when I needed you. She was always there.”

“When have I not been there for you, Derrick? Huh? When have I not been there?”

“When I was dealing with a lot of shit. I told you that I felt empty.”

“And it is not my job to make you full. You needed to deal with your inner problems. Our marriage was fine. I told you I would support you but cannot fix what was going on inside you. That’s between you and God, so don’t try to say I wasn’t there. You just didn’t deal with your bullshit. YOU WILL NOT PUT THIS ON ME. I AM NOT TO BLAME.”

“I’m not blaming you. She was just there. Please come out, babe. Please come out. I need you. I need you so bad.” He whimpered like a child. I came out to find him balled up in the fetal position. “I fucked up,” he whispered repeatedly. “I fucked up. I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me.”

As much as I was mad, I hated seeing him this way. I love this man so much. I crawled next to him and laid with him. We stayed there for what seemed like hours before falling asleep.

The next morning, we both called off from work to figure out where to go from here. I was surprised he suggested he go to counseling and asked if I would support him. I said yes, of course, and began to look for spiritual counselors, but to my surprise, he was searching for a grief counselor.

“Grief counseling? You want me to go with you to grief counseling? Is it because of your mom?”

“I need to get through not having her, Mya. I can’t bear this pain.”

“What? What about me? What about our marriage?”

“We will work through our issues.”

“Our issues? We have no fucking issues. It is you with the issues,” I got defensive. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Baby, I know. I’m not saying you’re an issue. I just need to process what just happened. You said you would support me, so support me, please. I love you so much, but I love her too. I just can’t pretend. I can’t ignore my feelings for her. I can’t ignore how hard it is for me to go to work and not see her there. I miss her so much. Please help me through this. It’s the Christian thing to do, right?”

I couldn’t believe my ears. He wants me to help him grieve the death of his mistress instead of focusing on rebuilding our marriage. I don’t know what to think or what to do. I love this man. He is my everything and I would do anything for him. I don’t know what to do.

That’s it for now. What would you do in her situation? Comment your thoughts or advice and I will use someone’s advice to write part two. Be sure to come back soon!

Love,

Jaz