Twenty-Three

I am trying to force myself to feel better about life, since I have a light at the end of the very long, black tunnel that has been my existence in the most recent past. Another round with the therapist this week left me bruised and out of sorts again, but I know I have to go through this more intense pain in order to be rid of the old pain. Make sense? I am trying to work through it. She says that once she releases all of my contracted muscles in my leg and back, I won't need to see her again, this will not be an ongoing therapy. She will either cure me in a few more visits, or cut me loose, she is not going to suck me dry of all my hope and all A's money. I feel myself getting better with every session, but as with all things, I am impatient impatient impatient. Now that I am starting to feel better physically, I am starting to get more stressed out mentally and very frustrated. I don't want to wait another month, another six weeks, I want ALL the pain gone NOW. Only it doesn't work that way, short of some trauma that would leave me paralyzed from the waist down. I don't remember what I was like before I fell into a pit of chronic pain, and I don't think A remembers either because in our years together, the last nearly four have been with me in this state, this mood, this eternal cycle of waking up hating my life and going to bed at night hoping it will be over soon. What scares me the most is that, once I am cured of my physical ailment, will the emotional aspect of it get better as well? With the chronic pain, I have stopped going out of the house much, I do as little moving around as possible, I have given up almost every hobby that I once loved, I gained an excessive amount of weight, I've forgotten about our once hot and passionate sex life, I've gotten in the habit of ignoring my housework due to the pain, I make excuses constantly for being tired and in a pissy mood and not wanting to do things or go places. Once the pain is gone, what will be my crutch? How long will it take before I can lose the weight, initiate sex again, find a job, scrub the kitchen floors, start painting again? How much patience will A have for me then, because he has been insanely patient with me so far, because he says he understands I can't help it, I can't do certain things. Now when I snap at him, I apologize and say I'm sorry I'm just in a lot of pain today, and he is okay knowing that. Once I am pain free, what will I say when I get livid and want to throw something, or storm off and slam a door, when I want to be left alone? Last night I expected A to be gone until late, he has a standing Friday night out with a guy he's been friends with for almost 20 years. I encourage him to go, why should he stay at home like a lump on the couch just because that's what I do? Instead, he was home by 9:30 last night, and instead of being tickled pink to have him home early, I got stupidly disgruntled and not long afterwards I had picked a fight so that I could have an excuse to go on to bed. It left A very confused, and he came in our room later to ask me why I was mad at him. I sighed, kissed him on the cheek and said I wasn't mad, I was just not feeling well and I didn't mean to take it out on him. I love A so much it scares me, but I am also relieved when he is not here, when he has to work late, when he wants to go out with his buddy. I feel like I almost push him out the door sometimes, because I want to be alone, but I am miserable with desire for him the minute he leaves, and I am more lonely but more relaxed at the same time. A is actually younger, but in many ways he has always represented a father figure to me. X was SO immature, despite being older, and so irresponsible that in our 13 years together, I felt the weight and the burden of running the household and paying the bills myself. X was unemployed at least once a year, and although I did take the richer or poorer vows, somehow the fact that he actively enjoyed being unemployed SO much so he could sit at home and stay high, used to piss me off as I went off to work every day. Water under the bridge now, but I grew up in a family where my father worked two sometimes three jobs so my mom could stay home and raise the children. That was my model of a man and a father and a husband. X fell short in almost all of my expectations, which was surprising, because both of his parents were hard-working and self-made millionaires, and he apparently had not inherited any of their drive or determination, or pride. On the other hand, A was raised, poor, on a farm in the country, and he worked hard all of his childhood, he said his parents never let him have a moment of playtime in his entire life. And he is still that way now. The man easily works 60 or more hours a week, and loves it, loves his job, loves his company and everything about it, loves the mere fact that he works. And he earns every penny of his six-figure income. A holds a very high position at his company, he has about 400 employees under him, and he runs about four or more large departments. But he's good at it, which is why he has climbed the company ladder so quickly, and will continue to climb I'm sure. He has ambitious goals in mind, but if he stayed at his current position for another twenty years, I think he'd be happy too. A's whole job is comprised of making decisions all day long, of being responsible, of expecting perfection, of taking no bullshit from his guys, he's a leader and motivator and mentor. Then he comes home to me, a pathetic dinner that he usually has to help prepare and clean up after, a dirty house, litter boxes full of poop, an unmade bed, laundry sitting wrinkled in the dryer for two days, crumbs and dust bunnies all over the hardwood floors. His wife who can barely function, let alone get her ass off the couch and do all that stuff, which for anyone else would be such a simple thing. He says he doesn't care, but I also think he's a damn good liar, because he doesn't want to hurt my feelings so he says it doesn't bother him that there is cat vomit drying in the carpet of his new half-million dollar house, while his wife is sitting right there flipping mindlessly for hours through reruns on the TV. I care too, but I never can seem to will my body to get up and do it. I am revolting. And if I sicken myself that much, how can A not feel sickened at the mere sight of me as well? How?? And as much as I love A, as much as I wish I could spend every waking minute with him, I feel numbing relief when he calls to say he'll be about an hour late for dinner, because that is another hour of my night where I don't feel the burden of being his wife. When he's not here, I can't disappoint him, I can't annoy him, I can't disgust him- he doesn't ever feel those things towards me, but in my head I feel like he should, so I get myself all worked up about my behavior because he is there to bear witness to it (and yet he doesn't judge me for it). Home alone, I just don't give a shit, and no one is here to remind me that I should give a shit. But as soon as he comes through the door I suddenly see all of my flaws, I see the breakfast dishes still sitting in the sink, I remember the clean towels from the weekend that I haven't folded and put away yet, I know he will inevitably ask me how I'm feeling, what did I do that day? Not to point blame, not as in "what the fuck have you been doing all day you stupid lazy bitch?" which is what X would have said. A means it like "hi honey I'm glad to be home to you, did you do anything fun today that we can talk about at dinner?" It doesn't matter, I have nothing to tell him, and instead of saying that, I start trying to make excuses as to why I didn't finish the laundry or clean the toilets. A doesn't really want to hear all of that, he doesn't care, he just wants to come home and know that I'm okay, and he wants to hear that I'm feeling better, and he wants to know that I love him. A would gladly take me out to dinner every night, and take me away every weekend, and get me a maid, if that's what I wanted, because that's how much he dotes on me, that's how much he just wants me to be happy. But, I don't want those things, and how do I tell my husband that being with him, because he's so wonderful, is just a reminder for me about what a failure and a loser I've become. So when he says, hey, Best Friend and I want to go out and drink a few beers, play some pool, but is that okay with you sweetheart because you and I can instead go out and do something just the two of us if you want- I look at him and say, gladly, go out with Best Friend. I want to scream STAY, stay here with me, stay here and keep me company and try to make me happy, but then all I can do is just sit on the couch and zone out, and why should he have to do that too? Even tonight, when Best Friend called him, I told A to go out and have fun, A got as far as his car and while still sitting in the garage called me from his cell phone and said are you sure you don't want to go out with us, we'll have fun- I just said go, I will see you when you get home. On the inside, I was dying, to be with him, to have him be with me, but I just don't want to go or do anything and I'm not going to punish him for that. Most wives bitch because their husbands go out too much, stay gone too late, and I am the polar opposite because I feel bitterness mingled with joy whenever mine wants to go out, and I never say no, never get upset when he calls at 10 to say it'll probably be after midnight when he gets home. I don't care, the later the better, which is what my head is saying as my heart feels the loneliness. Just to get me out of the house, into the sunshine and fresh air, A took me for a ride out in the country today, with the top down in his sports car, and we had a nice lunch on a lake. And on those occasions, while I'm away from the house and alone with him, I really do feel good, back like it was when we were dating and I was happy. But as soon as we got back into the house, the first thing I did was look down at the cat hair on the carpet and start to feel like shit about myself again. Now that A is out for the night with his buddy, I can relax and go back to not caring anymore about anything. Because whenever A is around, all I do is care about him and about our life, when in reality I want an excuse not to feel anything at all. Not even love. Being around A makes me feel more, and I just don't want to.