In what universe is it normal to have to warn your so-called Best Beloved not to take a verbal dig at you in front of the people you’re about to have lunch with?
…and yet, this is my reality.
Have you ever been afraid to write something because the writing makes it real?
I’m afraid to write that I think my marriage is dying. The relationship that I cherished, nurtured, and dreamed of, is withering on the vine.
Where before there would have been a begging, demanding, crying plea for unity or co-operation, there is now silence.
The song lyrics, ‘Say something, I’m giving up on you,’ are reverberating in my brain.
If he notices the withering, he hasn’t commented.
My husband and I are going through a rough patch. After 29 years of marriage, I’ve decided to take back my heart. He isn’t a bad man, and in fact, he is a very good man in many ways, but the continuance of certain behaviors of his have taught me that he isn’t the careful keeper of my heart that I thought he was. It’s been a long time coming.
Just like the words in the Dixie Chicks song, ‘A Cold Day In July,’ I’ve pleaded and cried to no avail. I’ve had to evaluate how my behavior has contributed to all of this.
This saying provided my answer.
I think the doing the same thing (ie: having the same conversations) over and over without seeing results stems from the hope something might be different. Women are hopeful creatures. We like to give grace. We don’t want to disturb our nests. We question our judgements even when we have the evidence in front of us. We hope we won’t have to play hardball.
Untethering is painful. When he wanted the kiss and I didn’t give it because I needed to send the message that ‘status quo’ is no longer in operation, it hurt me. I love him and I wanted to show it. I was afraid he’d be angry or hurt. I didn’t want him to be angry with me, and I wanted to rescue him from any pain I might cause him.
So, why undertake the journey?
My belief in my own value. It took me many years and a lot of pain and effort to understand my worth comes from God, and I am responsible to keep it from being tarnished. For me to discard it because I am afraid is to waste what has been given to me. This understanding is the life raft that keeps me afloat. I am worthy of better. Not perfect, but better.