He could. But he didn’t want to. It was easier to get me to do it. My dumb ass enabled it.
At our divorce trial, I presented 77 docs, dated over the course of 18 months, (everything from profit/loss statements to partner quarterly reports to insurance contract modifications to employee recruitment ads) that I produced for him, at his request, as evidence that his professional success was significantly impacted by my contribution.
He was underqualified and overpaid for his cushy hospital admin position and, honestly, I’m surprised he has kept it as long as he has since we split.
It didn’t seem weird to me at the time. I was just helping my super busy husband who had dyslexia and always worked late and had trouble writing and was always in the midst of some crisis and I didn’t want him to lose his job did I? and I wasn’t doing anything anyway and I was just a stay-at-home mom and I’m such a good writer and enjoy writing so much and it’s good for me to feel actually useful…or at least that’s the crap I bought at the time — hook, line, and sinker.
That shit was on me.
And it’s on me to fix, too.