Every once and a while, I need to put something here as…a reminder…a placeholder in my life.
Perhaps it isn’t wise to discuss those things that rattle around in my head that don’t come out, but sometimes they’re important—and too easily dismissed by me. Something about the written word gives it more reality.
There are things I don’t say out loud-things I think every time the Redneck mentions it. He has (lately) been saying he’s concerned about my health, that I probably have diabetes like he did.
What I want to say is: “You’re probably right. The difference is that you had someone to take care of you. I have you. You don’t do anything but talk about it.” And then I wonder if I’m just waiting (like a dumbass) because I WANT him to do something.
And that’s insane.
Another thing is I wish…crazy I know…I wish those touches, those sweet affectionate strokes, weren’t always a prelude to sex.
Now, if you’re reading this and just rolled your eyes, I’ve been there too. I remember thinking “Damn, girl, you’re lucky to be getting ANY!”
But I’ve discovered something about me, something I didn’t know. Sex isn’t just sex to me. And foreplay isn’t something that happens for ten minutes before intercourse. Hell, I used to think I didn’t care about all that. I’m finding that I DO care. I DO care that intimacy only occurs when HE wants it. Sometimes that makes me feel like I’m just waiting for crumbs, constantly reacting instead of acting on my own. It’s not a pretty dynamic and it’s not a deal breaker, but it occasionally makes me sad.
Another thing I don’t say is in response to his constant need for reassurance and support in anything he undertakes. Work, Cub Scouts, poetry…all those things require my enthusiastic response or I am “not being supportive”.
Let me say this. I have never felt unqualified support for my writing from him. He’s called it a “hobby”. He’s mocked the genre referencing how I should just write an erotic vampire with glitter to sell well. He claims that he isn’t mocking ME, but it’s hard not to think so when I don’t hear much “go get ’em girl” and he hasn’t read anything I’ve written.
Then, there’s the job.
I took this job because he said if I didn’t, I wasn’t “supporting” him. Granted, he hadn’t had time off and his health was going to hell, but I didn’t make those choices for him. He did. But when he needed to have surgery, I went to work. Now, we’re still financially strapped because of that surgery and I have to work.
This has stabbed my writing right in the gut. I have had to adjust, revamp, refocus. It’s been a challenge and one he hasn’t understood or helped with.
Resentment is growing.
Yet, all of the things I resent are things I ultimately chose to do. Not just for him, but because it was the right thing to do. So, I can’t really blame him for it. And he’s not responsible for my feelings.
I wish he understood them.
He is who he is and I love him for who he is. If he wasn’t this man, I wouldn’t have married him, loved him and had two beautiful children with him. It’s not that I want him to change. I don’t.
There are times I wish I could care less about what he thinks.
Because the crux of the matter is that I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to fight with him. I just want to love and accept him. Taking that too far has always been my issues.
Eventually, I’ll express my needs, let him know how I feel, reveal my pain. And usually, he is loving and wonderful about it. Believe me, I’m lucky and I know it.
It’s only sometimes, late at night, when he pulls me in his arms and I think “Oh, he’s finally going to comfort me, hold me” and he’s just taking advantage of a late night “mood”. Only sometimes, when I’m on my lunch at work and the cursor mocks me with its blankness because I just can’t switch gears.
Only sometimes, when Demolition Boy expresses his absolute misery at having to go to daycare after school and how he misses me.
Only then do I wonder how the hell I’m going to put a pillow over the Redneck’s face and get away with it.
Okay, okay. I’m just kidding.
I’m just sending it out there in hopes that I’ll find the moment and the words to say the things I don’t say.
(I promise I won’t smother him)