Loss, Reflection, and the Sexless Marriage
Nov 2, 2016 21:52:54 GMT -5
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GeekGoddess, DryCreek, and 7 more like this
Post by Deleted on Nov 2, 2016 21:52:54 GMT -5
My mother died ten years ago today.
Overnight Halloween night, morning of November 1st, 2006, my mom woke me up screaming for me to take her to hospice. End stage metastatic lung cancer. About a month before that, we got the ‘get comfortable; get your affairs in order’ talk from the doctors. How? How do I do this? How do I carry on without the woman who raised me by herself since I was nine? I got my strength from her and I thought without her, I'd have none. Two days after Mom woke me in the middle of the night, she was gone. Sometimes I don't think I can identify as anything other than an orphan.
Fast forward ten years. I am struggling in a marriage void of the physical expression of love. Couples counseling. Individual therapy. Spiritual guidance. Growth. Setbacks. Separation. Reconciliation. Fights. Apologizing. I get dizzy thinking about it. Would my mother have wanted this for me? No. What advice would she give me if she were here? I honestly don't know. On one hand, happiness was everything to her. I was her only baby and I deserve the best. On the other hand, she always taught me to take care of the things and people important to me. My husband, although full of asshattery, is important to me.
My mood deepens and I become withdrawn nearly every October 31st until about November 4th or 5th, when I snap out of it. My husband thinks he has done something wrong. When I tell him it's not him, and it's just usual stuff, he doesn't understand. He thinks I'm avoiding it. Maybe I am. Maybe I just want to reflect and not have to cry my eyes out. Maybe I don't want to have my stress at work and my sorrow about my mom twisted to be about him (yes, he does this.) And he has apologized. This, I am unsure if I can forgive.
I don't expect him to know what it's like to lose a parent; my in-laws are in their mid-sixties and very healthy. I expect some comfort. A hug. A foot massage. Sit with me on the couch. Or a ‘what do you need from me,’ or ‘what can I do for you?’ No. I'm alone in my sadness.
Thanks for letting me vent, ILIASM peeps. Writing it out, for me, is good therapy.
Overnight Halloween night, morning of November 1st, 2006, my mom woke me up screaming for me to take her to hospice. End stage metastatic lung cancer. About a month before that, we got the ‘get comfortable; get your affairs in order’ talk from the doctors. How? How do I do this? How do I carry on without the woman who raised me by herself since I was nine? I got my strength from her and I thought without her, I'd have none. Two days after Mom woke me in the middle of the night, she was gone. Sometimes I don't think I can identify as anything other than an orphan.
Fast forward ten years. I am struggling in a marriage void of the physical expression of love. Couples counseling. Individual therapy. Spiritual guidance. Growth. Setbacks. Separation. Reconciliation. Fights. Apologizing. I get dizzy thinking about it. Would my mother have wanted this for me? No. What advice would she give me if she were here? I honestly don't know. On one hand, happiness was everything to her. I was her only baby and I deserve the best. On the other hand, she always taught me to take care of the things and people important to me. My husband, although full of asshattery, is important to me.
My mood deepens and I become withdrawn nearly every October 31st until about November 4th or 5th, when I snap out of it. My husband thinks he has done something wrong. When I tell him it's not him, and it's just usual stuff, he doesn't understand. He thinks I'm avoiding it. Maybe I am. Maybe I just want to reflect and not have to cry my eyes out. Maybe I don't want to have my stress at work and my sorrow about my mom twisted to be about him (yes, he does this.) And he has apologized. This, I am unsure if I can forgive.
I don't expect him to know what it's like to lose a parent; my in-laws are in their mid-sixties and very healthy. I expect some comfort. A hug. A foot massage. Sit with me on the couch. Or a ‘what do you need from me,’ or ‘what can I do for you?’ No. I'm alone in my sadness.
Thanks for letting me vent, ILIASM peeps. Writing it out, for me, is good therapy.
