Moving
My friend T is coming over tonight to help me finish packing. I’m eternally grateful. I’ll pick up a pizza at this wonderful place owned and run by what appears to be the cast of the Sopranos.
The Husband came on Monday and got his computer equipment, the rest of his guitars and the cats. He did not get any of the 25 or so boxes I had packed for him and put in the garage. When asked if would be making a 2nd trip he said “no” because he wouldn’t have enough money. His expenses have been cut in half and he still cannot manage to budget. I know he had to spend some money on his car but not his whole paycheck. Just thinking about it makes me tired.
My house/life is just as chaotic as it can be and my goal is to get out of that house. My focus is pretty set on that. I feel like it's T minus 10 and counting... I've got 5 days left to sleep there and I just know there'll be fireworks and a huge party the first night I spend in my new place. Leaving the town home is the milestone to moving on with my life. I feel as long as I am still there I'll still be that person but if I can be somewhere else I can get "me" back and I'm almost scared who I was is gone for good. II know who I am now and there's an awful lot I don't like about me. I guess today everything hit me and I'm just in anxiety/panic/stress mode.
My mom called today just to tell me how proud of me she was for taking these steps and making this move. She said she would have probably crumbled a long time ago and she admired how strong I was. It's ironic or divinely coincidental because today of all days I feel like I'm just about to crack. I feel so tightly wound that I don't know if I'll ever relax. I need a massage, a beach, and a pitcher or two of margaritas. And I don't see any time in the near future where I can have that total relaxation. I'm just so tired I think I could sleep for a week and it's not just the physical tiredness. I'm so tired of dealing with his BS. We talked again last night and he went on and on about how he missed me and etc. etc. etc how he doesn't want to be in the house because there'll be too many memories and he's all emotional and how he doesn't want me to see him like this. He doesn't understand STILL that he's the reason I'm doing this. He pushed me away a little bit each day for 2.5 years and I finally had enough.
There is a part of me that still feels sympathy for him and I know it is faulty thinking but I just keep wondering if it was me somehow. I wasn't a good enough wife, maybe if I'd done a little more, folded his laundry without asking him to help, cleaned the whole house without asking for help, nagged him about the financial end of thing. I know it is not my job to be his mother or his keeper but I still feel like a failure. I know no relationship is perfect and I don't think I have unrealistic expectations anymore. I just want to be in a relationship with someone where we are both pulling in the same direction rather than opposite ones.
Is that so wrong? Is it wrong to want that Norman-Rockwell, Eddie-Bauer, L.L.-Bean Pottery-Barn catalog kind of life? I want those warm, rich scenes with friends and family and everyone is smiling. I want the atmosphere to full of love and acceptance. I want great food cooking in the kitchen and a nice filet on the grill, a glass of wine and people with whom I want to talk all night. And, at the end of the night after everyone leaves I want to turn to my Husband, look into his eyes, not have to say a word but let the dishes wait until the morning and know the only place I ever want to be is in his arms.
I want his arms to mean Home to me. To mean Safety. To mean Security. To mean Unconditional Love. To mean Trust. To mean Lust. To know that no one other than my Dad will ever love me as much as he does. I want to know I can give over everything of me and he will treasure me and not take me for granted. I want his arms to mean Teamwork. His hands to pick me up when I fall. I want his fingers to wipe away my tears. I want a mature Man. I don’t want to be his Mother…. I want to be his Lover. I want to know his hands can bring me pleasure. I want passionate kissing, I want to know we can raise that fire in one another and the bond we create wile doing so is part of the glue that holds us together.
I want that act to be something more than just f*ucking—not that that is a bad thing. But in addition to fast and furious, I want to make love. It hurts to say but in all my marriage I’ve only made love once. Every other time we’ve ever been together has just been physical.
I guess if you’re reading this I’m sounding like a profound romantic. Well, I am. I want Bliss. I guess I just need to find someone who wants the same thing…. AND is willing to work together in order achieve it. I have no doubt that it will be hard work but I want to be able to enjoy the ride not just the destination.
The Husband came on Monday and got his computer equipment, the rest of his guitars and the cats. He did not get any of the 25 or so boxes I had packed for him and put in the garage. When asked if would be making a 2nd trip he said “no” because he wouldn’t have enough money. His expenses have been cut in half and he still cannot manage to budget. I know he had to spend some money on his car but not his whole paycheck. Just thinking about it makes me tired.
My house/life is just as chaotic as it can be and my goal is to get out of that house. My focus is pretty set on that. I feel like it's T minus 10 and counting... I've got 5 days left to sleep there and I just know there'll be fireworks and a huge party the first night I spend in my new place. Leaving the town home is the milestone to moving on with my life. I feel as long as I am still there I'll still be that person but if I can be somewhere else I can get "me" back and I'm almost scared who I was is gone for good. II know who I am now and there's an awful lot I don't like about me. I guess today everything hit me and I'm just in anxiety/panic/stress mode.
My mom called today just to tell me how proud of me she was for taking these steps and making this move. She said she would have probably crumbled a long time ago and she admired how strong I was. It's ironic or divinely coincidental because today of all days I feel like I'm just about to crack. I feel so tightly wound that I don't know if I'll ever relax. I need a massage, a beach, and a pitcher or two of margaritas. And I don't see any time in the near future where I can have that total relaxation. I'm just so tired I think I could sleep for a week and it's not just the physical tiredness. I'm so tired of dealing with his BS. We talked again last night and he went on and on about how he missed me and etc. etc. etc how he doesn't want to be in the house because there'll be too many memories and he's all emotional and how he doesn't want me to see him like this. He doesn't understand STILL that he's the reason I'm doing this. He pushed me away a little bit each day for 2.5 years and I finally had enough.
There is a part of me that still feels sympathy for him and I know it is faulty thinking but I just keep wondering if it was me somehow. I wasn't a good enough wife, maybe if I'd done a little more, folded his laundry without asking him to help, cleaned the whole house without asking for help, nagged him about the financial end of thing. I know it is not my job to be his mother or his keeper but I still feel like a failure. I know no relationship is perfect and I don't think I have unrealistic expectations anymore. I just want to be in a relationship with someone where we are both pulling in the same direction rather than opposite ones.
Is that so wrong? Is it wrong to want that Norman-Rockwell, Eddie-Bauer, L.L.-Bean Pottery-Barn catalog kind of life? I want those warm, rich scenes with friends and family and everyone is smiling. I want the atmosphere to full of love and acceptance. I want great food cooking in the kitchen and a nice filet on the grill, a glass of wine and people with whom I want to talk all night. And, at the end of the night after everyone leaves I want to turn to my Husband, look into his eyes, not have to say a word but let the dishes wait until the morning and know the only place I ever want to be is in his arms.
I want his arms to mean Home to me. To mean Safety. To mean Security. To mean Unconditional Love. To mean Trust. To mean Lust. To know that no one other than my Dad will ever love me as much as he does. I want to know I can give over everything of me and he will treasure me and not take me for granted. I want his arms to mean Teamwork. His hands to pick me up when I fall. I want his fingers to wipe away my tears. I want a mature Man. I don’t want to be his Mother…. I want to be his Lover. I want to know his hands can bring me pleasure. I want passionate kissing, I want to know we can raise that fire in one another and the bond we create wile doing so is part of the glue that holds us together.
I want that act to be something more than just f*ucking—not that that is a bad thing. But in addition to fast and furious, I want to make love. It hurts to say but in all my marriage I’ve only made love once. Every other time we’ve ever been together has just been physical.
I guess if you’re reading this I’m sounding like a profound romantic. Well, I am. I want Bliss. I guess I just need to find someone who wants the same thing…. AND is willing to work together in order achieve it. I have no doubt that it will be hard work but I want to be able to enjoy the ride not just the destination.
posted by Ephemeral | 5:04 PM
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