If I Lay Here, If I Just Lay Here, Would You Lay With Me and Just Forget the World?
Here is my average day:
My first experience of a day is to wake up and drag myself across the cold tile of my bathroom floor. Usually this is a premature end to my sleep, and I then tiptoe frantically back to bed. This break usually falls three or four hours before I actually intend to wake up. So I return to sleep, fortunately with relative ease, but again, this sleep doesn’t last. I get too warm or wake up while turning in my sleep within the next two hours. More often than not I wake up every few hours of sleep, or even more frequent. But there is this magic time in the morning when every day it is exactly the same. I wake up and I try to prepare myself for living this life. I watch my husband sleeping and wonder what he wants from our life together. I furrow my brow and uselessly guess as to what he thinks every day. I can’t read him. I can never read him. And furthermore, he offers nothing much more of himself, emotionally, except momentary enthusiasm and arousal. My husband has few modes that way. The heartbreaking part of our relationship is that there is a hugely important level of myself as a person that is honest, and emotionally vulnerable. This part of me is something I seldom get to express. I have tried sharing that part of myself with him but he acts like he doesn’t understand. In situations I see that part of him, too, but usually when he is emotionally mooning over nostalgia, or women from his past that he has unresolved issues with. I’m resentful of that- the only time I get to see that part of him is when he’s busy telling me how much he used to be in love with someone else. It doesn’t feel like a feeling he “used to” have. It just feels like a feeling he has.
I know it’s unfair to feel that way. He tells me sometimes that there was a point in his life when he was emotionally open and expressive, but years of being taken advantage of somehow taught him through conditioning that emotions are messy and do nothing but complicate things in negative ways. So over the years he taught himself to feel nothing; to be a thinker who bases all of his decisions on logical equations.
Sometimes I think his equation of our future is impossibly oversimplified, completely black and white, and as deep as a soap dish. My two stipulations of accepting his proposal was that he never cheats on me (fail) and we get to have a baby (epic fail). I want to fucking rip out my own uterus and beat him to death with it. I am daily getting angrier and angrier. The more often he wants to make love, the angrier I get- like, don’t get me wrong, I love being intimate with my husband but was that what this was about? Not having to go out and work for it? Is this just “fun”? Did I just get married to have “fun”? What do I do? This decision is going to be like everything else- something I either have to push him into submission to do, or go out and do myself. I don’t want either one of those things.
How did I start feeling this way and when? When did this become so important to me that it overshadowed everything else? Should I be more logical and less emotional and be okay with this not happening? Do I have a right to be this deeply and incredibly, outrageously unhappy?
I think sometimes I fool myself into believing the illusion that I am ahead of where I was when I had nothing. I fucking feel… like there is no hope.