Tonight, I am feeling lonely.
Nothing is different. It is the same as it usually is.
My day was routine. My friends are there–I even talked to all of them today. (All THREE of them!)
But there is something about arriving home, after a long day, and meeting a spouse who is in a bad mood. Pretty much everyday.
There is no, “Hey honey! How was your day?”
There is usually a scowl, and a “Hey……” with a sigh. Immediately, I am put on guard.
I don’t share. I can’t. He’s grumpy. He’s not happy. He’s anxious and depressed.
And, no matter how hard I’ve tried–and trust me, I HAVE tried–I cannot force him to change. I cannot force him to take care of himself and use self care.
I am feeling sad. Everyday, I sit back and I think, How did I get here? How am I happier when I am NOT at home?
…I know how it happened. I met him, a 33 year old…handsome, successful, intelligent, when I was a few months short of my 20th birthday. At 19, I felt flirty and sexy and mature.
His age intimidated me…mostly from the standpoint of wondering: What will everyone THINK?
But…we talked. I couldn’t help myself…he was interested. He was pursuing me. It was flattering. Why would this guy want ME?
It was a combination of flattery, disbelief, daring, and infatuation.
I got to know him quickly. His depressive side showed pretty fast. But I was a pyschology undergrad…a fixer. I’ve always been drawn to hurting people. I want, so badly, to fix them. To make them feel better.
Back then? Back then I believed I could.
Now…I realize that I don’t have that power.
People do what they do.
He also had the means to take care of me. He had a home. A job. He wanted to share that with me. I was safe and comfortable…and that feeling, in my early 2os, was exactly what I thought I was looking for.
Today, I am 30 years old. I have two children. My husband is 44.
I am unhappy.
Daily, I daydream about a marriage where there is passion and love. Where I can share with my significant other without worrying about his reaction. I dream of a fulfilling sex life…something that, at 20, I thought I could sacrifice in the name of being comfortable.
I do not doubt that my husband loves me. And I do not doubt that I love him.
But, I want so much more.
I want to arrive home, and be happier than I am here. I want to feel happy with my husband. I want connection and intimacy.
I want to feel sexy and wanted.
Instead, I sit on the couch with a laptop in my lap, typing to the world wide web. I am alone. Well…he is sitting at the dining room table, working on his own computer, not talking to me.
We are like two trains, running on parallel tracks, never making contact.
It breaks my heart.
It makes me want to leave.
I just want to feel loved.