I suffer from selective empathy.
It's near impossible for me to feel frustrated or down on behalf of T. When he complains that he's tired, I'm annoyed because he's the one who chose the schedule he keeps. When he complains that he doesn't have any money, I'm beyond annoyed because I pay all the bills, and have just started asking him to contribute last week (two weeks after going full-time again). When T starts getting snippy at the kids and telling them things like "big kids don't do that" I don't automatically assume that he's worn out or frustrated because they are sometimes tough to handle, I get angry because of all the child-raising books I've read and what a bad thing it is to tell a child that they are acting like a baby. However... (and there's always a however...)
When it comes to my friends and my children, I am Miss Empathy (Capital letters required). On Saturday, when my daughter started crying because she didn't have her pink jacket with a hood, and it was starting to rain, T says, "That's nothing to cry about" and my immediate response is "But it is to her". That phrase has rattled around in my brain all weekend. How can I be so ready to understand and comfort my children, but not my husband?
Unfortunately, this time I know the answer. I just don't like it.