... I told him something has to change here and now, if this marriage (one year) is going to work long-term. And what must change is that I must be respected. This means no calling me "crazy" because I have a mental illness, etc. In his defense, he responded that he hadn't meant disrespect, but has a limited vocabulary and doesn't know any other word for when my symptoms are acting up. I suggested "symptomatic." Or, he can just describe the actions he doesn't feel comfortable with, without putting a value judgment on it.
Being respected also means listening to my input, taking my feelings seriously, and not making decisions for me. At the conclusion of it, he said that some words appearing neutral to him are going to appear inflammatory to me, and I agree to be forgiving if it's an innocent slip. Likewise, just because he doesn't demonstrate his emotions doesn't mean I can't, and he's going to have to tolerate an occasional display. Can't I put emotions aside and just think logically, he wonders? No, I answer. I have to work through the emotion first, and then I can think logically. He needs to let me do that. (And if I have to watch my tone of voice or else I'm acting "crazy," then by gosh, he'll need to watch his tone too!)
And here is where my thoughts are haywire. That word "respect" is loaded with baggage, at least for me. Hubby and I are both abuse survivors. I have never put my foot down and demanded respect before, at least not without being shot down right after with some variation of "who do you think you are?" It comes as a mild surprise that he didn't laugh in my face and give me that old saw about "respect is something you earn, not something you demand." Or, "I pay the bills around here, so what I say goes." It does look like he is willing to respect me.
Yes, there remains that ghost of a voice in the back of my head, asking what nerve I've got, demanding to be respected as if I'm--I'm--some kind of important person or something! In 45 years on this planet, I have never felt entitled to respect. I was always told you have to earn it, and of course, exactly how to earn it was a secret not to be revealed to me. Other people around me had apparently earned it; I had to respect them or ELSE! The whole concept was a one-way street. I was required to give it, but not entitled to receive it, no matter what. Not even my children had to respect me. If I said something, and another adult in the family disagreed with me, it never seemed to matter who actually gave birth to the children; I was overruled. My relatives would correct my children, with me standing right there, but then step in and undermine me if they felt *my* correction was unwarranted. (It just occurs to me that the one relative who did the most of this, has never been married and never fathered his own children.) Were I to have the audacity to demand respect, I would be openly ridiculed. "Well, listen to miss high and mighty who wants respect! That's a laugh!"
My husband didn't do that. But I still feel iffy about continuing to demand it. Have I earned it? How *does* one earn respect?
And is it something that should be earned, after all? Or shouldn't every human being on the planet be entitled to some measure of respect? Don't even death row inmates merit some human dignity? We talked this over, hubby and I, and we seem to have come to the conclusion that everybody deserves respect. It's disrespect that ends up being earned.