Life just gets busier and busier. Now that I have more hours at work, of course I have less time at home, and the time I do have needs to be planned more carefully. Shopping trips have to be scheduled according to when I will have enough time off to leave town for a bit. And in between cleaning the house, preparing food, laundry, and other household chores like shoveling the driveway, I need to make sure I am taking time to be with my girls and my husband.
Sometimes I wonder if I spent more time with David, would I grow to love him again? I could try. Pessimist me, I anticipate that unless he has something to say to me, we won’t really talk. I can try to talk to him again, but I am so afraid of being ignored or condescended to that I am afraid to upset the delicate balance of things the way they stand now, which is a polite “how are you doing?” kind of tightrope we are walking.
There is no way we will ever get to the intimate sharing of life. We never really did that, even on our good days. Curl up next to him on the couch and watch a John Wayne movie? I could see that, but it would be the most boring thing I could think of. That’s how he spends his time now, though. Either that or on the computer, or sitting at the dining room table doing his Bible studies. He’s always too tired to go out with me, he says going to a movie would keep him up too late. He was oh so eager to spend the night with Jack and Bill watching the football game till 11 p.m., though.
Maybe I should just get used to the fact that we are a middle-aged married couple, and we are just settling in to the middle-age stage of marriage. If that is anything like my parents’ marriage, it means that we just co-exist and do our own thing. Interaction means sharing facts, like “dinner’s ready.” My mom offering opinions to my dad ended with her getting yelled at, or told in a roundabout way that what she was saying was stupid. Yet, when she died, my dad was so broken up that he said he wished he could go with her. He really did love her. Surely marriage is more than that, somehow keeping the intimate connection you had when you were dating. That feeling that yes, this is the only person that I could happily spend the rest of my life with. Really?
Is it my fault? His fault? Nobody’s fault? Is it just an inevitable stage that everyone goes through? I hear the same stories from Brenda and Michelle, and of course from Karla, Karen, and my sister, whose marriages all ended.
I still would not be too sad to end my marriage. Andy thinks it would be lonely, but I am not an extrovert. It won’t end, though, not unless David wants to end it, too. Which I’m sure he doesn’t. He would be lost and rudderless. Which is part of the problem, and why I don’t want to do this anymore. In one theme sentence, I am the guts of our family, and he is the figurehead who thinks he is in charge. I am getting tired of being his rudder.
Maybe being busier means that I will have more excuses to delegate household things. Either that or they just won’t get done at all. Life goes on, and everything will work out, really.