I’m Not Alone

Sometimes, when you feel like you are trying to be nice to someone, you can never be sure if they appreciate it or not. Should you have done what you did? Did it make any difference? If it was a good thing to do, is it okay that you did it anyway?

I sent a Christmas card to a friend we visited in Florida this summer. I can’t regret sending it. If he doesn’t respond or mention it in any way, I won’t send another one. There, that’s a good solution. Just try it once. If it fails, so what? You can feel good that you tried.

One more post about my husband, then I will try to move on. I don’t know how Brenda and I got to talking about our husbands the other day at work, but I wonder how many other wives out there feel the way we do. She works 50-60 hours a week, her husband works part-time. In today’s economy, I understand things like losing your job and not being able to find work, I really do. So she works, and asks him to help around the house, make phone calls to the insurance company, stuff like that, but she can’t depend on him to get any of it done. And really, why should she have to ask? She says she ends up doing it all herself anyway. Pat is a nice guy, like David. But he’s apparently a lousy husband.

David likes to think he is the head of our household, but I would say he is just a figurehead. Everything that gets done around here is done by me. My niece Tina has two babies and a full-time job. She also has a husband with a part-time job, which is actually a step up from his previous job delivering newspapers. She does it all, plus takes care of her family and his, because they live with his mother and various other of his relatives.

I know there are men out there who take responsibility for their families. Sometimes I wonder if we women have usurped their roles by working outside the home? Do we sometimes go to far in our role as helper, doing as much as we can so the other doesn’t have to worry about it? It works best when both partners have that same goal. Or are the wives simply doing all the things the husband has already decided not to do, because somebody has to do it? Does he just figure his wife will take care of things so he can lay down and take a nap?

That’s not what I signed on for. I would like to have a husband who leads and takes responsibility. I have no problem with taking care of the house, if he would take an interest in what’s going on around the house, like the budget,  things that need repair, and what the kids are up to this week. I have come to terms with the fact that David is not and never will be handy around the house, so I have learned to do things like fix the toilets and take the cars to the repair shop. It’s not really difficult, it just requires a desire to make things the best you can.

I would like to have a husband who thinks I am precious and worth listening to. I would like to have a husband I could respect and feel like I couldn’t wait to take him to bed. If I have never felt that way, is that a problem with me? But you know, so much time has passed, these feelings are so ingrained, trust has been lost, and I am just tired of trying. I keep hoping that someday he will come home and tell me he has fallen in love with someone else. I’ll pretend to be sad, and I probably will mourn for the ending of a 25+ year marriage, but I could not be sad to finally be free to be myself.

Brenda told me about some relatives of hers who had both lost their husbands. Other relatives noticed that both women began to change, start to take trips together and become happier people. They didn’t understand why, but Brenda said she figured it out right away…so did I.

Just writing this down helps me sort it out and helps me persevere. There isn’t anyone else for me, and I am not looking for anyone else, but the whole situation is dangerous in that I keep wondering what it might be like to be married to someone else. If I were happy in my marriage, that would never come up at all. It makes me have to be strong on my own in a way that my husband should be taking care of me, keeping me safe, in a manner of speaking. Holding me close to him.

He hasn’t hugged me close in a very long time. It’s hard to care, but I keep trying. When love wears out, is that when it turns the corner into frustration and anger?

I might keep writing, but for now I’ll just call it enough. Next time I will write about happier things, because they are out there, for sure.


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