I don't know how to deal with awful things. I guess that's ironic....because I've probably lived through more bad things than most people. But maybe that's the point....I started out as a child learning to ignore the things that I couldn't deal with. Occasionally I would allow my thoughts to wander to the "what ifs"...the realities of my situation...and I couldn't handle it. I would break down and shut down. I couldn't do it. So I would pretend. When bad things happened, it was easier to pretend I was in a play...I would play each part, acting out the scene from their perspective. I still do that, sometimes, when I'm alone in the car....I act out scenes. I cry and yell. And it's easy to walk through the issue that way....pretending it's not real and I'm an actress ad libbing the role.
The thing is...there has always been an out for me. When I was a child, I knew that I would leave that life....that house and those people, that school and that town. I knew that my ultimate goal was merely survival. I didn't need to really deal with anything because I knew I only had to endure it for it to go away of its own accord.
But with my husband....I don't want my problem to just go away. I want it to be better. I want to solve it. I want him to love me. Desperately....I need him to want me.
I could tell that he didn't want to be around me. I could tell. And it hurt. So I kept trying. And I kept enduring the rejection. And one morning the alarm went off while he was in the shower....and I felt so sad and hurt and rejected that I just didn't care. I stared at the wall while the phone buzzed and the alarm tone played over and over and over. And the overly dramatic part of me felt like it was a metaphor for what I was living...a buzzing that I just wanted to stop. I didn't understand why he was suddenly punishing me just because he had a relapse. Was he blaming me? Was it my fault, in a way?
And he came out of the shower and made a joke about the alarm. And then pushed and pushed until I told him how lonely I felt because he had been pushing me away. And he did that thing he always does...he blamed me. He blamed other people. He admitted that my feelings were valid and then he dismissed them and said I was making things up. And then he said that he just doesn't feel like having sex all the time...as if that was the whole point of the matter...as if I were just this horny housewife getting all upset because he didn't feel like it.
It was rather insulting, if you think of it.
But I didn't say anything. I never say anything. I let him blame me...like I always do....because I'd rather be blamed and have things better than not. And I can control myself. I can't control him. If something is my fault, I can fix that. I can't fix him.
So I accepted it. And he seemed to accept it, too. Even though it had nothing to do with sex. There are other forms of intimacy. Sex was not the intimacy I craved. But I accepted his summation and his blame and I apologized and resolved to try harder.
And I did try harder. I started doing my chores at a different time so that I could devout myself to him in the evenings. I made more involved dinners and did extra loads of laundry. I got up at 6am to work so that I could do everything. But still, he ignored me. In the quiet moments of togetherness, he coldly moved to the other side of the couch and pulled out a video game.
On Saturday, we were each doing something different in the parade. And at the end, our son was performing in a skit to advertise the city play. It wasn't anything huge...but it's something that he is doing, and we should support him!
During the performance, Jonah was standing with his hands on his hips. I went to him and slipped my arm through his, smiling up at him....hoping for that shared moment of parental pride. But he didn't look at me. He shook off my arm and pushed me away, crossing his arms acros his chest.
And that's when I shut down. Because being rejected is hard. Being repeatedly rejected is hard. But being repeatedly rejected by your spouse is rather unbearable.
I stopped trying. I literally just couldn't try anymore. I can't force him to love me. I can't force him to want to spend time with me. I can't force him to do or be or say anything. But I don't deserve to be hurt like that....I don't deserve to be treated like that...
Sunday afternoon...I was feeling so sad. And so alone. And so hurt and angry. And I was angry with God....just a little...because I'm not totally certain what I do that repels people...I feel like a magnet with the wrong charge....and as I try to get closer to people, they are pushed farther away. I've tried so hard with Jonah. And he's farther away from me than ever. And this morning when he left for work...he looked at me with such disdain....he's angry with me because I shut down. He doesn't understand that I'm not strong enough. I am not strong enough to endure that much rejection with no end in sight. I can't handle his indifference....not to that degree. It's like the shower suddenly went cold and he's angry with me because I stepped out of the water.
I'm just waiting for the explosion. I know it's coming. I want it and I fear it. It's all I think about. I walk around this house and it's all that I think about. I act out scenarios in my head. I practice speeches...trying to impress on him how much I love him....and that's why it hurts to be shunned by him...that's why it hurts to be so far away from him. I think about it all day...things I can do that will make him happy when he gets home....what he would like for dinner. And nothing is different. I wait for him to reach his hand across the bed....to pull me close to him and to hold me.
He hasn't kissed me on the mouth in 2 weeks. And it aches...my heart aches in sadness and loneliness and pain.
And so, no matter how much I yearn to reach out for him...a defense mechanism inside me engages....and I shut down. I curl up on my side of the bed and I try not to touch him because if my leg touches his and he pulls it away....it's another rejection....and I am not strong enough to survive another rejection.
I just wonder how many more times he will dutifully kiss me on the cheek and say that he loves me....walking away without looking back....as I stare at him walking out the door....trying not to admit that that was the only time he will touch me that day.
The biggest problem is that whenever the explosion happens...he's going to do what he always does. He'll admit and then he'll justify and then he'll blame me. And I'll sit through the whole thing....and I'll accept the blame. And I'll just be grateful that he's willing to forgive me....because it's all my fault, right?
Maybe that's why this is so hard...I wish I thought more of myself. I wish that I could love him without being codependent. I wish that I loved myself a little more so that I could feel validated even when he doesn't love me. I wish that I were a better person so that I wouldn't have to try so hard.
Thoughts like this are painful. And that's why I distract myself. I can't think about this this way. It hurts. It breaks me. It isn't fair.
"Life is pain, highness. Anyone who tells you differently is selling something."
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