Dear Esther,
I’m having a problem with my wife, “Karen.” I don’t seem to recognize her anymore. She has changed so much from the woman I married 16 years ago, and I’m finding it almost frightening.
When we first married, we both were simple people who grew up in simple homes. We lived in Kew Gardens Hills for the first six years of our marriage and then moved out here. I look back on the early years of our marriage with longing. Even though life wasn’t easy—we struggled financially, lived in a tiny apartment, shared one car, and worked really hard—there was a feeling of reality to the experience. No pretenses. We were who we were. We didn’t have to impress anyone. Everyone with whom we were friendly lived similar lives, and we all enjoyed a sense of honesty and respect.
Thank G‑d my business has become quite successful and we’ve been blessed financially. Somehow, and sometimes I think I almost didn’t even see it happening, we’ve moved up in the world very significantly when it comes to lifestyle, and we also seem to have replaced our old circle of friends. We have a large house, fancy cars, and epitomize a Five Towns success story. Yet I find myself yearning for the good old days, when I didn’t have to impress anyone and no one had to impress me.
Specifically, Karen is now out of control when it comes to how she worships anything designer. Gone are the days when she can just throw on an old, junky denim skirt and sweatshirt and be happy. She feels the need to wear six-inch heels and a whole getup just to do her errands. I find it’s downright silly, and I’ve told her so. On a Saturday night, if I suggest we quickly get dressed and run out to a movie, it becomes a whole ordeal. Back in the day, she could be ready to go in ten minutes, with a smile on her face. Now she needs a good hour to prepare. I tell her the movie theater is dark and no one will see her. She says that she may bump into someone she knows on the way in or out. Are you kidding me? Obviously, there is no spontaneity, no relaxation, and no good old-fashioned fun. Everything feels staged.
When we have a simcha or dinner to attend, it becomes a major deal. Karen feels she must buy something new. I don’t understand why. Her closets are already bursting at the seams. I ask her why she can’t wear any one of the dozens of beautiful outfits she owns. She explains that if her friends saw her wearing the same thing again, they would probably disrespect her. She also tells me that when she looks like a million bucks, she feels like a million bucks and her whole attitude is improved. It helps her feel good about herself. Then she’ll complain that I don’t care about her self-esteem.
She just cares so much about what her friends think of her “stuff.” If her outfit, shoes, and handbag are not all designer, she believes that she will be treated differently and no longer belong to their precious club. My feeling is that she would do well to reject their club and start hanging out with real people once again, who don’t care about the clothing on her back, but about her—period.
It’s not that I’m cheap or can’t afford her spending. But I see it all as so frivolous and wasteful. I am still quite aware of people in our midst who can’t afford basics. I find it painful to waste this kind of money when I know it could feed a family for a month. Yes, I do, thank G‑d, give plenty of tzedakah. But I still feel that I’d rather Karen buy a normal pair of shoes and put the excess money toward a needy cause.
How do I get Karen to wake up and smell the coffee? How do I regain the woman I married 16 years ago and loved being married to? Since we view this situation from such polar opposite places, is there any middle ground? Mind you, it’s not like I don’t enjoy and appreciate nice things. As I said, our home is amazing and we live a beautiful lifestyle. But I’m not out to impress anyone with these things. Sometimes I even feel a little embarrassed over our good fortune and all that we have. I certainly don’t feel the need to worship designer labels in order to impress other people. Sadly, Karen does.
Still Old Guard
Dear Old Guard,
Let me commend you on becoming quite the success and yet holding on to your former values and beliefs. It’s easy for a person to be swept along with everyone around them who all seem to be doing the same things and following the same rules, as opposed to taking the time to evaluate what is happening around them and determining whether or not it makes sense. Obviously, you are in touch with your core beliefs, you know who you are, and you don’t have to prove anything to anyone through material acquisitions.
Karen, on the other hand, is having a very different experience processing your success, particularly as she surrounds herself with people who rely on material goods to define themselves. Somewhere in the shuffle she’s forgotten where she’s come from and who she once was.
Probably at the core of your distinctly different reactions is an inner sense of confidence. A confident person like yourself doesn’t have to sell themselves. Someone who is self-assured is generally in touch with the parts of their being that has value and feels good about what they can contribute to society in general and to friendships in particular. As you well know, the designer suit doesn’t offer a shoulder to lean on when a friend is in need. An expensive pair of shoes doesn’t give a hug when someone is in desperate need of one. As you’ve always known, the over-the-top stuff is sometimes no more than a charade, an act filled with smoke and mirrors.
On the flip side, there is something to be said for Karen’s explanation that when she feels like a million dollars her day is enhanced. Yes, we all have a better day when we put ourselves together in the morning and pleasantly discover that our hair is cooperating with us and our clothes are fitting properly despite the little cheat we had the night before. We feel stylish, put together, and thoroughly presentable. So maybe Karen’s denim skirt from years gone by would no longer cut it. No way, no how. And that’s OK. It’s just that when the level of apprehension toward one’s presentation accelerates to a place that should be reserved for runway models, one is assuming a level of responsibility and stress that is just plain silly. This is where it sounds like Karen has crossed the line.
She’s taken the fun out of dressing and turned it into a major job and responsibility. She fears the disapproving eyes of her friends. (Friends?) She now feels obligated to always keep up. She’s become a slave to the fashion designers, who are laughing all the way to the bank.
If you are determined to uncover the woman whom you married 16 years ago, your first goal would be to figure out how to help Karen rediscover her former self. Rather than accuse her, it would be helpful to talk about the good old days. Remind her how nice it was when she was in touch with her specialness and didn’t have to prove anything to anyone. Reassure her that she is lovable and amazing because of who she is and not what she wears. Ask her whether she really believes that a person is a reflection of the shirt on their back and not something more meaningful. Can we really define ourselves, or anyone else, by what we purchase rather than what we do, who we are, and what we contribute?
It’s nice to look at pretty things. Style is something to be appreciated and admired. But none of this should ever be confused with our innermost values.
Finally, it is said that we sometimes become the people we surround ourselves with. Maybe you and Karen need to start befriending other couples who are more down to earth and more in line with the friends you had back in Kew Gardens Hills. Where are those couples today? It might be interesting to locate them and backtrack to the time and place where life felt so much simpler yet amazingly more meaningful for you and probably Karen as well. Though Karen may resist at first, my guess is that ultimately she will thank you for giving her a much-needed wake-up call. Who knows—maybe she’ll even start a much-appreciated new trend among her friends.
Esther
Esther Mann, LCSW, is a psychotherapist in Lawrence. Esther works with individuals and couples. She can be reached at mindbiz44@aol.com or 516-314-2295.