The Ache

The ache is back.

In my heart. In my stomach.

It left for awhile. I did not miss it.

I feel anger as it overtakes my body. As it darkens my thoughts and makes me the shell of the person I know I am.

I feel so alone.

Last night, I tried to act like everything was fine. Like I wanted my husband. The truth is…I needed him. I needed to feel connected and cared for. Loved.

I asked him to hold me. To kiss me.

I was disappointed. None of it was the way it should be. The way it should feel. His grudging hold of me and his obvious discomfort made me feel like a nuisance–and I felt more empty at the end than I did when I started.

When the lights went out, I lay on my pillow, more alone than one should feel when sharing a bed with another.

Where do I get my connection? When am I enough to deserve it?

I have grown and changed. I have fallen to my knees and prayed. I have talked it out and overtly stated my needs.

But, it never changes.

And I—I am the one who is still alone.

The healing process is bumpy–this, I know. But, I am so tired of the bumps and the process. I want to be through it. I want to find the other side and freakin’ stay there.

I want somebody–even just one person–to care about me as much as I care about them.

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