Ok Really...

Ok really, here’s the thing about wanting having or pursuing a great life. Or should I say what I think is a great life. There’s never a day where the fight doesn’t get bigger and the want to quit doesn’t get stronger. I can’t even begin to put into words what it really is. I can however describe what it feels like. It felt like my chest closing, my lungs tightening and my heart racing. It felt like I was losing my mind, it felt like I was on the brink of death, it felt like I was alone and small and the voices in my head were so loud that I couldn’t hear anything over them. It felt like the closest to hell that I can remember. It felt like my world was falling apart again. I wasn’t ready to lose big again. I’m not ready. I wanted to have a mental breakdown. I thought I was having a nervous breakdown. I thought that I wasn’t going to see morning. It was 3am, my husband was asleep next to me, I couldn’t breathe, I wanted to curl into him and find safety. I wanted to call my sister and my friend, but they like me, have husbands and kids and a long-standing lack of sleep that I wouldn’t rob them of. It was dark and I was alone and for the first time in a long time in my life… I was afraid.

Why did it feel that way, because I’m married to a man that I’m in love with that I don’t always like very much, whom I’m not always sure is in love with me despite what he says, because it never looks like something that I can recognize. I hear him say, “I love you.” I know that everyday he goes to work and he pays all the bills and I take care of our kids and our home and I get to chase this dream, or this vision depending on what day you catch me. And I know that for my husband that’s what he’s supposed to do. Being a husband for him isn’t about relationship or intimacy or closeness or even conversation. It’s about providing, keeping a roof over our heads, paying the car note on the very nice car I’m privileged to drive. I know at a head level that my husband loves me, values me, and appreciates me. I know he believes that every bill he pays, every mortgage check I write, he is saying “I love you baby, you matter to me.” I can’t however say that I get that on a heart level. Because it doesn’t come covered with flowers or compliments. It is rarely without yelling and it doesn’t very often feel soft or tender. It is not hugs or kisses or tender moments between us. Don’t get me wrong it’s not that there are never those times, they are however rare and deeply craved for on my part. My educated evolved self will tell me that it’s me being high maintenance, needy; lacking a self-completeness that I was convinced I had before I got married. My base and very honest non-feminist self will tell me that none of my higher educated well read, well spoken good on paper stuff matters. What matters is knowing that when I feel small, insignificant or afraid I can turn to my husband, tell him where I am and know that not only will he find me, but he’ll lead me back to where I should be.

The truth may be that I’m selfish in ways that don’t seem so selfish. That I’m asking more than I know I’m asking and starving in ways that he doesn’t know that I’m starving. I can say this and feel a sense of release. I can’t say it to him without feeling like I’m robbing him of something more valuable to him than what it’s costing me. So needless to say I’m stuck! And I want to get unstuck and I want him to pull me out of the quagmire I’m in. For a woman who believes in rescuing herself and has never needed a superhero, why do I want him to save me so badly???