No one’s priority

He said he was sorry for not being able to show up.  He wasn’t able to get away.  He is married and he has small children.  Did I fall in love, or is it lust with this man? I was drawn in by the soft gentleness he exhibits with his children. He is so kind and loving; I wanted to feel that kind of love, I wanted to be one of them.  And for once, feel that kind of attention. But life is way more complicated than that. I told him not to worry about it. I never want to add stress to his life. In fact I never want to add stress to anyone’s life. I have been accepting apologies and enabling people my whole life, allowing those who are close to me to hurt me. I had an epiphany that day when he said he was sorry as he often had said before. The epiphany is that I am willing to be seconds or even thirds because I have never been anyone’s priority.

That makes me an amazing wife, since my husband can put work, the kids, his parents…anything ahead of my needs. How easy and carefree for him, to have his personal attendant, who requires nothing back. Oh, and the kids, the ones I pretty much raised alone, since dad was so busy at building his ego with the accolades of his job. Well, any parent knows raising children is thankless. I don’t really even want them to make me their priority anyway, but if their dad would have shown some to me, maybe they would know how to care about me, not just want something from me. But it doesn’t matter, because they are grown now and they are givers like I am. I hope they find givers back.

I suppose I can thank my parents in some way for the role I have played.Stuck between the beloved older sister and pampered little brother, I was the classic over achieving, peace keeping, ”please look at me” middle child. After a while you start believing there really is nothing you can do that IS good enough. Not the good grades, not the starring role in the school play, which no one came to see, not even marrying the man they wanted me to marry. Then the cycle of family life began. The kids, the job, the house, the bills.  I was in it, good!  So I did it, I did what all I had to do. This was most everything. She is so capable!

Fast forward and the kids are grown, but nothing else has changed. The result of being no one’s priority is a desperate loneliness with which I have a hard time putting onto the page. The feeling is so strong, at times, it consumes me. My only escape from it is to distract from it, such as in the form of my sweet friend, who when he is not being a dad, is often times texting me with indecent thoughts. For hours we chat, and speak about nothing. The rare times we can see each other, we hardly say a word, and the energy consumes us both, with quiet inhales and intense holds of tangled arms and silent breaths. I am filling his void, just like he fills mine.

Why do I let him? You would not ask if you had understood the desperation I feel. One is willing to take a corner of moldy bread when they are starving.

Can’t find a replacement

…and it sucks. I cheated on the almost-ex with two different men, because he didn’t give me the attention that I needed. Just ONCE, I wanted to be at the top of the list. I never was with him. So, I cheated, and I felt alive again, even if it was just for a short weekend away with the first guy.

I miss him terribly. I screwed up. I didn’t actually “lie” to him, but I was not 100% forthcoming in the information I chose to share, or not. He was my friend. We talked, ALOT. I miss that. I miss his gorgeously chiseled face. I miss his height. I miss his gorgeous blue eyes. I even miss sending him the dorky “good morning, have a nice day” texts as I was walking into work every day. I miss the way that he paid attention to me. He listened to me and made me feel like what I had to say mattered. Even though that weekend was three years ago, there isn’t a single day that passes that I don’t think about him.

I just want to know WHY he stopped responding to me? Why did it have to end with him ignoring me from across the country. We talked about me moving out there to be with him. We discussed schools for my kids. It seemed like he was my true soul mate. And now, I sit alone–drinking away the emptiness, wondering what could have been if I had been 100% honest with him.

Reflections of a young, strained marriage

I’m not sure what I expected out of my marriage.  Fireworks?  Love? Romance 24/7?  I may have gotten love, but not the other two. I get down on myself for possibly knowing (albeit subconsciously) before we got married that I wouldn’t have fireworks and romance, but willfully chose to ignore it under the guise of possibly being happy/living “happily ever after.” I blame myself. I blame myself for our sexless, strained relationship. I get angry with myself for not being clearer to myself on what I wanted out of a husband and honestly evaluating him more closely. I criticize myself for not opening up my eyes wider and realizing the situation.

My husband makes me laugh almost every day, but there’s no physicality to us.  I have to solicit hugs and kisses. I’ve done it so much I’m starting to seriously resent it and not care if I get a good night/good bye kiss, hug, etc. anymore.  We’ve been married for almost a year and have had sex once in the last 4 months. I wonder if the spark is gone, if he’s not attracted to me anymore, if it’s something I’ve done. If it’s none of these things, which may be even worse. If he just didn’t have a reason. Just a lost desire. I’ve tried well over a dozen times to initiate intimacy with no success. It’s started to wear on me. It hasn’t started; it HAS worn me down.

Is this my fate? Will I be in this relationship limbo for the rest of my life? Will I end up divorced and just a statistic? I don’t want to hurt anyone, but at what point do I realize I’m hurting myself too much? If I had to rate the percentage of the time I am happy it would be less than half. I either am worried about my husband (what he’s thinking, feeling, doing, etc) or concerned with my actions and what he’ll think of them, or the like.

Am I legally bound to live with regrets for the rest of my life? Should I have made a different decision? Is this REALLY what life is supposed to be like? Walking on eggshells and hating myself for it and the reasons behind it? Me cow-towing to his every request and whim, hoping and praying it will make him like me more? What kind of sixth grade logic is that? That’s like doing your classmate’s homework hoping they’ll notice you or ask you to the dance afterwards. It doesn’t happen. Why can’t I remember that when I’m an emotional wreck? Why can’t I just take care of myself first and best? Why can’t he be more responsive when I try to address our problems?

In an effort of self-preservation, I’m wondering about the possibility of seeking physical gratification elsewhere. My husband has once joked that if I’m so sexually needy maybe I should hire someone to take care of my needs. I think he was joking. Sometimes I think he wasn’t, though. However, joking or not, the situation has recently presented itself. An old flame. One of those “we almost had sex but never did” partners. If we would have had one more time together it probably would have gotten that far. However, he’s not “the one that got away.” Just someone I was/am fiercely attracted to (and he to me) but never went “all the way.” We were never devoted to one another, it was a fleeting relationship of convenience, but a powerful one. More serious, long-term relationships and statuses got in the way of pursuing something further than just making out, unfortunately. He made a last plea to me in the months leading up to my wedding last year: asking me if there was any chance I wasn’t going to get married, if there was some room for him in my life before I did, that he’d be willing to travel to me if I could spend even one night with him. I easily wrote him off and said no. I hadn’t thought of him much since the wedding until he emailed me about 10 days ago. Several flirtatious emails later, we have a date set to meet. We don’t live in the same city (or time zone) but he is making a special trip to where I live for one day only. After all, we only need one day.

I’m trying to rationalize if sleeping with him will make me feel better about my life. Will it fill one of my voids? I feel like I have so many and I’m desperate to plug them. I just want to feel better. Will meeting this person, whom I don’t know very well but feel semi-strongly toward, make me partially whole? Will it make me less resentful to my husband for neglecting me? Will it make the lack of sex and excitement more palatable? Will it make it OK?  Is it worth risking? Is there in fact any risk involved? He really has no risk, his wife (he also is a newlywed, but only of two months) will never know, she has no potential of “catching” him. He’s away on business, something he regularly does. It won’t raise any alarm bells with her. But with me, there are hazards.

What will I tell my husband? I can’t exactly tell him “hey hon, I’m fed up with your bullshit and lack of any sex drive or feelings towards me, so I’m going to go spend a (what definitely promises to be) blissful Friday with this man who is physically superior to you in almost every way?” Instead, I’m already coming up with a lie. A situation that won’t raise eyebrows and that’s plausible enough to get me a day to myself without any contact for 8-10 hours. I want to be selfish, something I’m never afforded. I want to enjoy myself. I want to be pampered and appreciated. I want to be touched. What I don’t want is to be reminded I’m in a crappy marriage with no possibility of children (a whole ‘nother issue, for sure) with no hope of anything changing. And if I do get caught, what will the repercussions be? If you neglect someone for nearly a year, what can you honestly expect to happen? For them to stop what feels natural to them and deprive them of physical pleasure?

And no, this isn’t just about sex. It’s about the emotionally gratifying responses that sex brings. I’ve been in a better mood since I started emailing with my “friend” than I have been in the past two months. When we finally set a date I was ecstatic. I bounced around all day with anticipation and excitement. Our date is in two weeks and I fully expect to be in a happy mood until then. After all, half of the joy of any big event is the anticipation leading up to it. I’m thinking of what I’ll wear to meet him, how I’ll do my hair, if I should get it cut, etc. I feel giddy, something I haven’t felt since before I got married.

If I do cheat on my husband and it does satisfy part of whatever’s missing inside me, what happens when it’s a long time until I get it again? Will I delve into a deeper depression? Will this tryst become a “gateway drug” of sorts and just make me want more the next time? Where does it stop? Should I even worry about it?

picture courtesy of Google Images

70′s chick

I was in my car when I got his call.  A teenage sweethart from the early 70′s. He had the long hair and beard, jacked up car, and rode a motorcycle. You know–the type that your parent did not want their sun-soaked daughter to go with.  Something was very different about him. He was from a broken home and my home was in perfect order.  He was the first boy I dated that had a car. My parents learned to like him.  They always told me that he had taught them something.  It was not what you looked like on the outside but how kind your heart was.  He had a kind heart. But that was the 70′s, and eventually I moved on.

My daddy was diagnosed with colon cancer and not going to take treatments.  But one day when I was visiting, he asked about this guy I used to date. He could not recall his name (Daddy is 81 years old).  I knew who he was talking about.  I contacted his wife on Facebook and soon got a reply. He called and spoke with my daddy.  During that conversation he asked about me and my life. He asked if it would be okay if he called to say hello to me.  It had been 40 years or more since we had talked or seen one another.  I got the call on a Tuesday afternoon in my car.  We talked and talked. We had a history, time had marched on for both of us, we both had families, sick parents and had shared our first sexual experience with each other in the backseat of a Mustang. You never forget stuff like that. I even asked his wife (also via Facebook) if it was ok that we spoke on the phone.  Oh yes, no trust issues with us is what she told me.  We spoke and texted four or five times daily.  I loved it.  I felt feelings I had not felt in years.  I felt fifteen again.

During one of our conversations sex came up. We joked about the Mustang and how we managed to do what we did. He then told me he wanted to hold my face in his hands and kiss my lips tenderly. My heart melted.  I wanted to hear more. I too wanted to hold him and kiss him too–to take away all his doubts I felt he was encountering.  About six weeks later he called to tell me he was feeling guilty  and felt he was cheating on his wife.  He told me he was alot of things but was not a cheater. After he said those words to me I waited about fifteen seconds and I hung up the phone.  I have not heard from him since. I miss my day-to-day contact with him. I do not know what happened.  I am left with such confusion and I am the one with self doubt. My heart is broken. My husband suspects nothing.

How could he leave me when he wasn’t even here?  I miss him.

Memories; are they real?

The other night I was visiting with a friend and we began to share our own personal stories. Come to find out, both of us had been sexually abused as children. She remembered all of her abuse, but my memories are only brief pictures that jump into my head! We could genuinely feel and understand each other’s pain.

That evening when I went to bed, I suddenly saw a picture of my dad taking me to bed with him. I hadn’t remembered it, but my mother had written about it and I knew that it had happened. He was drunk as usual and I must have pissed him off for some reason or any reason at all. It didn’t matter to him. Then, as I was remembering, I began to experience physical pain in the region where he was touching me. It hurt and I cringed. I thought I would throw up! I just kept telling myself that I didn’t want to deal with it right then. I was tired and wanted to get some sleep.

A number of years ago there was a lot written about childhood sexual abuse and that, for many, they had no cognizant memory of it and then, out of the blue, they felt and saw something that became a repressed memory. There were a lot of people, professional people, who said that these so-called memories were fignments of imagination and were not to be taken seriously. Others said, “Believe the children.” The author, Helen Bass, wrote a wonderful book entitled The Courage to Heal. It became my bible. I finally could understand some of my reactions, feelings, my sense of always being on alert to any danger. I didn’t want to believe that I was abused by my father. Even though he was a drunk, I didn’t think that he would do that to me. However, I finally realized that yes, indeed it did happen. I used Helen’s book to help me heal and understand the decimation of my childhood and being a “survivor.”

Many people were put into a perplexing situation. Were they really abused? Was it just a figment of their imagination? How could he or she ever know for sure? I have been asking these questions ever since the memories came to me. After all I have gone through, I still wonder. I still feel haunted by the many “blank” times in my life where there is no memory. Fortunately I found a wonderful therapist and we began to work on these memories. She guided me through all of it and because of the type of work she does, I’ve healed many of those memories.

When abuse happens and you are too young to verbalize it, it is hard to accept that the abuse really happened. I was told by my therapist that our minds protect us from those memories until we are able to deal with them. Statistics show that one out of three girls and one out of four boys have been sexually abused during their lifetime.

So, my quesiton is still … is this last memory real or did I just imagine it? How will I ever know for sure? Will you?

 

photo: Google Images

Thinking about it

I’m thinking about it.  By thinking, I mean daydreaming, getting swept away, practically having an entire relationship in my head that will most likely never exist.  But man, do I love thinking about it. About him, I mean. Yes, I know affairs are terrible, everyone gets hurt, blah, blah, blah.  The external reasons don’t matter to me as much as the internal ones–I’d like to think I’d never hurt my husband like that. It’d kill me to see his sad face and know that I caused it.  But I still think about it.

There’s nothing “wrong” with my own marriage.  Unless you count sex.  We love each other, like each other, he’s my best friend. We cuddle, listen, we’re pretty sickening actually.  Except that no matter how much he’d like to; he can’t. I can see the frustration and sadness in his face.  We always hug, hold hands, stand close, but when I’m alone I’ll nearly start crying I need to be touched so badly. It’s killing him and it’s killing me.  When we do finally have sex (once a month would be a dream at this point), it’s fabulous; it always has been.  But the times in between are getting further and further apart and I’m dying.

Pills don’t work. What does seem to work is having very little stress and all the time in the world, and when is that likely?  He’s mentioned how crazy he feels, how he’s cheating me, how sometimes he wants to tell me to find someone else.  But I’d feel like I was leaving a war buddy to die; we’re in this together.  Except that I can’t help but feel like it’s me.  How this might be easier if I knew he were having an affair, or were gay, or something that told me he just didn’t like me “that way” and we’d be better off as friends and could leave it at that. Or I’ll wish male prostitutes existed, since maybe that would be a discreet option.  I start thinking crazy things.

Like this new friend, who I think I only daydream about because he has so much in common with my husband–similar quirks that are so endearing.  Only this one, in my fantasies, isn’t broken.  Is that terrible to say?  Am I broken and ungrateful for having a wonderful relationship and wanting more?  I know sex isn’t supposed to be important, but I believe that in the same way I believe people who say they forget the pain of childbirth: umm, maybe for you.

Why did it have to be sex?  How am I supposed to deal with this?  How can we deal with this together?  How can I make myself not want sex?  I’m dying.  I don’t know how to cope. So for now, I just think.

 

 

photo courtesy of Google Images

You corrupt me

The heat of your words keeps whispering back at me. Language filled with raw emotion of desires.  You speak vulgar and crude, but instead of rage I feel awakening. There lies my disgrace within your corruption.

My body defies me and responds to that which I wish to reject. Touch never to be felt. Heat never to be shared. Yet still, your words turn the corners of my mouth upward. There lies my pleasure within your corruption.

Like a moth to a flame, I keep flying above your fire.Dangerous and compelling, I stare into the flicker and feel the burn. I fly above the heat dancing between regret and laughter. There lies my blame within your corruption.

Corrupt me further so that I may perish in my shame. Or, stop your corruption of me, so that I may disappear completely. Tormented in ambivalence, yet unwilling to make a change. There lies my game within your corruption.

 

photo courtesy of Google Images

I let you…

The pieces of your broken heart are tearing me apart, shards of stolen words and empty sentiments.

I wish our lips had never met, I wish our tongues had never danced.

Your taste still lingers in my mouth; your hands still roam my flesh.

I thought I could use you and no one would get hurt.

I told you to protect your heart, but it was my heart that needed protecting.

It made me sad when you said you had to stop, but it felt worse to think of what I had done.

This played-out game of miserable desperate need, while we both belong to some one else.

I let you talk to me………I let you think of me…….I let you see me……I let you touch me…..I let you taste me……

How could you get me out of your mind?

Tell me so I can get you out of mine……………

Trapped like a rat

“Yes, that about sums it up.  I’m trapped like a rat, more than once, and I’m not sure what to do about it.  Pass the cheese, won’t you, and hear my sad tale.
It began well over 25 years ago, with a wonderful marriage to the woman of my dreams.  Smart, funny, well traveled, well educated, vivacious — and so was she.  A match made in Heaven, right here on Earth.  Well, there was that little issue with her near-complete lack of libido, but hey, love conquers all.  I can get by on once a month, right?
Well, once a month became every couple of months, and then once in a blue moon.  Our son, born five years after our marriage, was rightly considered a ‘miracle child’ because it was a miracle he was ever conceived.  Through all of this, I soldiered on.  I’d given my word, and I take that sort of thing seriously.
But after 25 years of marriage, I was told that she was no longer interested in me as a man.  I was merely a wallet with legs, a companion for cold nights, and nothing else.  I did my best to talk her into something she’d regret later, but alas, the pleading and whimpering was mine alone.  Finally, after three or four years of having to listen to my pained whimpers, she reached her breaking point, and told me to “”find some trixie who can put up with you.”"
Despite the fact I am homely enough to frequently scare small children, I finally did manage to find somebody crazy enough to put up with my needs and the fact that I have a family I cannot walk out on.  I helped her work through her issues with her own openly hostile family, and she helped me with my complete lack of physical affection.  For over four years, my friend and I would struggle with her depression and social anxiety issues, and share the kind of closeness usually reserved for married couples.
Unfortunately, I don’t think she’s winning her struggle with her mental health issues.  As her doctors change her medications in an effort to help her cope with her demons, she has lost her interest in me as more than a companion.  Once again, I find myself rubbing backs, and feet, and necks, and not much else.  I now have two women in my life who cannot help me with my physical needs, and whom I will not abandon.  There are days when I think that having my friend’s mental issues would be a blessed relief, but that wasn’t how I was raised.  You give your word, you keep it.  And bearing in mind that definition of love in which the happiness of another is more important than your own, I suspect I am content with being a good husband, and a good friend.
Pass the cheese, won’t you?  This Havarti is especially good today….”

Good Cheating?

imageI am a very bright person. My downfall? I’m a follower. She has to succeed for me to succeed. How do I help? In elementary school, my dad would be sitting at the kitchen table helping my sister with her homework. She never understood how to do it, but I did. I was 3 years younger than her, but these things just came to me. I was always just smarter. So I would do it for her. I thought I was helping, but I know she didn’t learn anything that way.

High school, I was kicked out of 2 my 10th grade year along with my older sister. I dropped out of high school the 2nd week into my senior year. Why? Because my sister (whom is my best friend) dropped out before me.

I recently got my life in order and registered for classes at a local community college, while my sister is still struggling. She is a single mother of my amazing nephew who has saved my life, and probably hers too. She hasn’t graduated high school yet but just wants to go to college. There is a way she can, by passing the GED test or scoring college level on the placement test. She failed the GED test and didn’t score high enough on the placement test. I on the other hand placed college level in 9th grade, I probably could of done it earlier if I had attempted. To take the test all they do it check your id and then you log onto a computer with your social security number, they don’t check anything else. The plan? Me and my sister are going to take the test the same time (as we had when I was in 9th grade) but I will log in as her and she will log in as me, since I am already enrolled into another college, it wont matter if she fails me. All I want is for my sister to succeed, do I feel bad? Of course. Cheating isn’t the best thing, I don’t want to set her up for failure, but I just wanna push her in the right direction. She is the type to get discouraged easily and just stop. I need her to succeed so I have the motivation to succeed myself in my own life. I live off other people, this is how I am, and I’m not sure how to change that.
I don’t wanna live her life for her, but I want to help her. This is how I help her. Will she ever learn on her own? I hope so, I’m just getting her foot in the door. Am I trying to justify what I will be doing? Of course.