This morning my dh called to talk to the kids. I was actually still asleep as I have this miserable cold and it was rainy and the house was warm...and you know how that goes.
So when we finally rolled out of bed, there was a message on the machine. "Daddy!" my daughter screamed when she heard his recorded voice. He said hi to her and told her how much he missed and loved her and then he said hello to our son. He told him how he missed him and loved him. And then he said goodbye and he'd see them soon.
I couldn't help but stand there a moment, looking at the machine, waiting for my shout out. My I love you. My I miss you. But it's not going to come. I know that. And it's as it should be.
Still my love. Be still. Feel it. Losing love hurts. Loss hurts. Rejection. Passionate committed unrequited love. Hurts.
I'm not his number one. I'm not his girl. And I can't call him and tell him I love him. I can't tell him I miss him. I can't cook for him. Check in on him. Worry about him. Touch him. Hug him. Compliment him. Comfort him.
I can't rush in anymore. I can't do my thing.
I've had to, over the past 6 months, really pull back from my dh. He started to notice and called it "you don't like me anymore."
But I love you. I will always love you.
I want to spike my coffee. Smoke cigarettes. Get a tattoo. Cut scars along my arms. Get skinny (if only). Die my hair blue.
Blog? Close enough (not really).
I will always love you.
But I stopped rushing in and fixing everything. I knew inside I had to let it go to pot. Because then he'd see. We'd see. I'd see.
I'd see I was really alone here all along. Once I stopped putting up the scaffolding, dry-walling the holes, touching up the paint, the whole damn house fell down.
I believe it usually falls to the woman to emotionally glue a relationship together but this is ridiculous.
I was at Home Depot over the weekend picking up fertilizer for the garden. On the way out, a little old man in the parking lot came over and gave me his business card. I looked down at the red, white and blue card in my hand.
"Demolition and Pick Up." Huh.
"Miss. You need any demo done? Any hauling?"
Hauling? Maybe. I got a garage full of boxes and shit. (Another story.)
But the demo I've taken care of.