Yesterday was a decent day for me. I set a few small goals. Probably very small to most people, but these were things I had to force myself to do. Get out of the house, pull some weeds, walk a little, get sunshine on my skin. Drink water and aloe vera juice (I’ve been dehydrated and apathetic about it). Research and order something for our elderly dog that keeps having accidents now. Not very big things, but I’ve been feeling numbly depressed and flat inside lately. The lack of normal sleep has left me feeling physically unwell. I wrote the goals down and kept looking at them until I checked them all off. That felt good. Small goals, but I did it for me. It sounds absurd to write it down, but I really did have to force myself, and I felt a sense of accomplishment after I checked them all off.
Since the recent night that he came out in the evening to just sit and be social (to show he cared), he’s behaved unusually pleasantly. I think that wears on him, like a burden he carries and tires of. I can’t prove it, but it always seems that way. When I sense it wearing on him through the most subtle of signals, I become uneasy.
Rarely, he’ll express some interest in being intimate later. I take it with a grain of salt, because he doesn’t follow up. It’s just another Lucy and Charlie Brown running at the football thing to me. It makes me feel irritated for that reason, but I normally just say nothing, and just let it go. Sometimes, I feel angry and say something.
Last night that happened. He made the comment as I was getting out of the shower. I smiled and nodded, then jumped out to get dressed make sure the laundry machines got switched, dog got let out, stray dishes stacked for morning etc. I felt irritated, but some part of me always wonders a little bit if he means it. This time? Does he mean it this time? It’s like getting set up for a fall. Before the shower, we were playing an online game together. We were going to finish it after the shower, and then go to bed. My first clue for the change in plans was when he walked in the bedroom a few minutes after I did.
I heard this unpleasantly familiar sighing. Oh, how I hate hate hate the sound of this particular sigh. From years of past experience, that sigh signals that he’s feeling sorry for himself, and barely under the surface of his self-pity is resentment.
It felt like something clawing at my skin and setting my teeth ajar. That sigh is his unspoken preliminary to letting me know that he’s too tired, not feeling quite right, not feeling well, needs to get up early, needs to get to sleep, needs rest, and all this means that he just isn’t up to sex (no pun intended). It’s his woe is me, poor me, neglected me, pitiful me sigh. It’s his withhold sex sigh. It partly irritated me because it wasn’t like I was planning to pursue him anyway.
I started folding laundry on the bed, and in a matter of fact but clipped way, I told him that I heard the sighing, I knew what it meant, and I suggested he just get some sleep if that’s what he felt he wanted or needed. I said that sigh has a very particular sound, and over the years I’ve learned it has a very particular meaning. I felt angry and told him that I felt so trapped.
He looked surprised (but not really). He wanted to know what I was talking about, and yes, he was tired, but what was wrong with that, and didn’t he have the right to express himself yada yada. I told him that I felt trapped. He didn’t ask me why. He went on defending and excusing himself. I listened, and calmed down. I asked myself why I was angry. What was I expecting. I told him that I had felt angry, because it hurt so much. I told him that it hurt feeling so unloved all these years. It hurt that we’ve never had normal affection and intimacy, and that even after all these years, that hurts. I told him I just wanted a way to stop the hurting, and that’s why I felt trapped. I couldn’t see the way. I told him that I thought my anger response was an unconscious desperate feeling, that thought it might change something, but that was irrational. I told him I wasn’t angry anymore, but I still felt trapped. I was totally calm by this point.
He had his sad face, but no response. Not a word.
I tried not to think and not to feel. Years and years of trying to shut down that part of my being.
I started to think about how poor my sleep has been for a month or more now. I picked up my Bible and read silently from Psalms. I forced myself to think about having a good day when I woke up. I envisioned waking up with a good attitude, and setting goals for the day. Turned out the light, and kept turning my thoughts towards envisioning making good choices again. Drink water. Walk. Productive tutoring. Get healthier, and start to create a new dream for a new life. Then I actually just went to sleep. I had some nightmares, but I think I feel slightly less tired this morning than I have for a few weeks.
There are rational reasons that make it unwise and would create much fallout (hurt innocent others) if I tried to separate right now. My physical health is poor. I’m working on changing those things as much as possible. If I could find a way to make really decent money, I could do it. I want a life without unnecessary hurting.