I love world rhythms, I love international cultures. Today I was around these things, and the joy I normally feel did not bubble up in me. And the irony made me really sad.
How does this happen?
Where does apathy come from?
How does it infect every aspect of one’s life?
Where does passion go?
Did I just use it all up? Maybe that’s it. I used to be one of the most passionate people I knew: passionate about my life, passionate about my friendships, passionate about my family, my interests… and oh yes, passionate about love and sex.
And now– it just feels like a huge vacuum has sucked the passion completely out of me. Is it completely gone? Or is just temporarily missing? Will this pass? Will it get swept under the rug?
A year ago I really thought we’d successfully cracked the code, we’d figured out how to be happily married.
Now I’m wondering what the hell I was thinking? I was certainly delusional. We can’t do “happily married.” We can barely do dysfunctionally married. We marginally co-exist. Ironically, 4 years ago it was “let’s get them all in college before we end this, so as not to rock their words.” Now it’s “we’ve got graduations, a wedding, and launching them into careers– don’t want to rock their world now.” Or sadly, “It could be worse…”
I don’t want to quit. I don’t want to live apart, I don’t want to feel so distant. (These are the things I tell myself…) Yet right now I feel powerless to “be” anything else…to try… to hope.
Powerless to feel hopeful.
“Resigned” is not a state with which I’m familiar.
But here I am: resigned to just make the best of it, but to not risk anything. No feelings, no passion, no love. I seek no tenderness, no touch, no caresses– the girl for whom physical touch and closeness
is was the number one love language. At the moment these touches burn like acid, because they feel contrived and insincere. Last ditch efforts, “I’ll temporarily do something so she won’t walk away.” And my rejection feels like an invasion of the body snatchers. This isn’t me.
It’s like someone who keeps edging you to the cliff… nudging you so close… then at the last moment grabbing you before you careen off, before you’re lost. You’re temporarily restored to flat ground, only to begin that scrabbling feeling again of losing your footing as you get pushed and edged towards the cliff. You begin to wonder when he is no longer going to grab for you. Sadly, I honestly don’t think he deliberately pushes me away… yet I don’t know how after all this time he doesn’t recognize that he does nonetheless.
The hardest part for me, is here he is, once again, acting like he wants to try. Once again. There have been too many “once agains” for my heart. My heart just doesn’t want to hope, doesn’t want to trust. And my heart hurts for him too… I have to perhaps accept this is probably the best he can do, these actions of desperation. They can’t be sustained, I know this too well.
I pray that I can change to be patient and accept whatever. I pray to find the courage to just love him on his terms. And, I pray that he can change and know how to love me. But that last prayer is silly.
A week ago he asked if we could do this marriage study. I told him I needed some time, my heart wasn’t in the right place. My heart is still not getting in the right place. My heart sort of just feels dead. I’m so done, but I don’t want to feel this way. And I am desperately drumming up some motivation to try. To ignore the act of desperation it most likely is.
I fake kindness and patience. I fake the smiles and cooperative attitude. I realize it probably comes out as thinly veiled tolerance. The fight is out of me, even the desire to fight for us; that scares the shit out of me. I’ve always been a fighter. I am praying for answers. What do I want? Certainly not this passionless existence. God made something from nothing. Can He do that again? Can I do that?
Are there diamonds to be found in these ashes?
I’ve been walking away so slowly for so many years… and I’m starting to see that you really don’t want to come after me. You won’t run after me. You won’t fight for me. It’s just not an investment you can make. I’m not worth it to you.
(When I withdraw, he reads… and I’m sorry he has to read this; I know he’ll hate hearing it, and he’ll be mad I’m not counting the blessings).