Oh Lord, help me.  My husband went out-of-state Friday and will come back late today (Monday).  On the phone he asks me  “Do you miss me?”

I had to answer yes.  It’s a lie but how could I possibly tell him “No”?

The Truth, which in this case would make my life far more difficult and complicated rather than setting me free, is that it’s been a glorious weekend without him and I didn’t miss him a bit.  It was truly a stay-cation because he was gone although saying that would be mean and uber-hurtful to him.

Friday was a super-late night and so Saturday I slept until 3 pm – normally by noon he can’t stand it that I’m still in bed and comes to wake me up and make me “be part of the family”, which consists of me making everyone a meal and then sitting upstairs in the living room and watching movies together for the rest of the day.  Honestly, I’d rather go back to bed and sleep the day away because between my sleep apnea and insomnia I need sleep far more than I need to sit with my family and watch movies…especially when we don’t hardly speak 10 words to each other all day.  “Family time” indeed .  Sunday I was ready to wake up at 10 am because I had actually slept enough on Saturday!  I also didn’t go to church Sunday because he wasn’t here to make me go.  (I’ve noticed that when I’m out-of-town on a Sunday, most of the time, he doesn’t go to church either so I find it somewhat hypocritical of him to feel it’s necessary for me to go all the time but whenever I’m not there he stays home…but that’s another post…)  I even got to spend some 0ne-on-one time with each of my children and also with our adopted neighbor girl, which was loads of fun and something I’ve never  been able to do before.

Even though it’s after midnight and officially Monday for me it’s still Sunday night because my pills haven’t kicked in yet and I’m not asleep… but my husband comes home “tonight”.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not dreading it, I’m just mentally mourning the end of my free time.  For all the smack I talk about him he is trying really hard to be a nicer guy, including going to counseling, telling a select group of men about his addiction and they are doing a good job of holding him accountable.  He’s railing in his temper more and apologizing when he fails to keep it under control – both to me and our girls.  He says he loves me more, which is nice but there’s no passion behind it, they’re just words in the same way that there is no passion in our intimacy, it’s just sex to keep his hormones under control.  He’s a pretty good roommate and I enjoy his company but I don’t miss him when he’s gone…or when I’m gone.

I think he has wounded me too much for me to have any kind of passion for him and I don’t think he ever knew how to have passion for a woman, not any of his past girlfriends and definitely not for me, his wife.  What he may think is his passion for me I’ve only ever seen as lust for sex.  He is finally, after 19 years of marriage, trying to dampen his sex drive and create some sort of passion but at the moment it’s too little, too late and I’m completely uninterested.

I don’t want a divorce, I don’t want a lover and I’m not homosexual.  I think I just want a little bit of space.  I want it to be OK that I don’t like sex.  I want it to be OK that I don’t want to spend every moment with my husband and children.  I want it to be OK that I like my husband and children…but not love them. I feel like wanting those things makes me ungodly and that makes me wonder if I’m really saved.

I think my heart must have a broken piece or two in it because it sure doesn’t love like everybody else’s does.  I am damaged and I’ve been in Survival Mode, or Self-Preservation Mode or whatever else you want to call it for most of my life that my real heart is buried so deep and so far away that I don’t even know how to find it.  And should I ever find it, how would I break down the walls I built around it?  It is too much for me, my walls are stronger than I am because I poured parts of myself into making the mortar and stones and now those parts are gone from me, they fortify my walls and no longer strengthen me.

“Do You Miss Me?”  My poor family, they deserve better than a broken wife and mother but I’m the only one they’ve got.  I deserve better than a dysfunctional family but they are the only one I’ve got…and my husband and I are equally responsible for its dysfunction just as my mother and father were equally responsible for the dysfunctional family I grew up in.

There must be more than this but I don’t even have the will to look for it anymore.  All I want to do is get the girls grown up and on their own and then we’ll see what sort of relationship can be built with their father when it’s just the two of us.

I made a promise, 19 years ago, till death do us part.  When your heart dies but your body lives on – does that count?  Dry Bones, you will live again – I have to believe…I just have to believe.

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