Well, my husband left. Again. The worst thing is, I think it may be for good.
This leads me to ask myself, how much can a person cry? My eyes are swollen like I boxed a few rounds last night and I STILL have tears! Don’t we run out at some point? Or do we only stop when either sanity is restored or psychosis sets in?
The weight of stress and lack of communication is suffocating us both. Squeezing the life out of our marriage. And at the time when we need each other the most, we have turned away from each other. It makes me sadder than I can express. The what ifs, the should haves and could haves, the self-blame, the anger, the unwillingness to get on with life. I want my old life, dammit. One that gets further away from me as each day passes. The days when I didn’t realize how good we had it; the days when my son was healthy and happy; the days of monotonous work, eat, sleep that seem idyllic in retrospect.
The one thing that hurts as much as being suddenly alone is watching the relationship between my son and his father slow to a halt. It isn’t anything a couple of good honest conversations wouldn’t fix, probably. But they are both stubborn, and the longer it goes on the less they communicate or understand each other. I hate it for them both.
While I would never expect a sixteen year-old to completely open up at first, I’m hoping I can get them to talk if they won’t do it own their own. I know they miss the closeness they use to share… the long conversations about music, playing guitar together, sharing a good Dad-cooked meal, discussing video games or just watching TV together. Some of these things I cannot do with Dylan and even the ones I can don’t replace his dad. Dylan and I are alone here together, and under these circumstances, more than ever, he deserves to feel that his dad loves him and will always be there for him.
When I told him that his father was gone (Dylan was asleep when he left) he was stunned. After awhile he said, “well, he can always come home.” I didn’t have an answer for that. I can only hope at this point.
For me, the thought of starting a new life is exhausting. I am so obsessed with my son’s health I could never find a man to love me… I don’t have the will or the energy to seduce anyone. And frankly, I couldn’t take the rejection. I couldn’t keep the one man who claimed to love me, and don’t ever want to find myself crying in the fetal position again if I can help it.
All I can do is take small steps toward the unknown. I am actually terrified. The strong woman everyone knows has crumbled somewhat, but I’ll make it. I think.
