Tuesday, December 27, 2011

October 18, 2010--i think this is the start of the end...

I just broke down into body-wrenching sobs as I stood at the kitchen sink washing a pot.

I broke down because of what I was thinking.

I was thinking, “One day, I don’t think I’ll be married to this man. I don’t think I can stay married to this man.”

It is so heart-breaking a thought, so terrifying a thought, so painfully sad a thought, that I couldn’t stop the tears.

I’ve been holding these tears, these real, terrified, miserable, scared tears, for so long. They’ve been waiting for today, I think.

I tried to cover the sobs in the sound of the running water. But then I was crying so hard I couldn’t see. I was about to drop the pot on the floor. I braced on the knob. The water turned off.

The dog heard me first. He yipped. Wondered what was wrong with me.

My husband paused the DVR. I tried to stop my pain from escaping, so messy, so loud. Too late.

He came over, placed his hands awkwardly on my shoulders as I faced away from him. His presence only made me cry harder. “I’m going to have to leave you one day,” I thought to myself. My crying picked up at that hellish thought.

As I cried and cried, he eventually asked me what was wrong. How to say it?

“I don’t know if I can do this,” is what I choke out through tears and moans.

“I don’t know either,” he says. “Neither of us knows.”

He’s not understanding me. Of course he’s not.

“I just don’t know, I don’t know if I can!” I’m crying into his chest now, simultaneously wanting to beat him and hug him. Instead I try to stem the flow of snot from my wet face.

He says, “We were fine, in a really good place, just last week. We’ll be fine, we’ll get through this.”

“Well, that’s not really true,” I say. ‘We’ have not been in a good place in a long while. Since our travel abroad, since our return, when something broke, ‘we’ have not been in a good place. I have been fearful, worried, doubting.

“It’s always there!” I cry. “It’s always there for me, my fear that I can’t do this with you!” It’s such an enormous confession for me. I feel relieved for having said it. Lighter, already.

“Well, the threat of terrorism is always there...” He says this, incredibly, as he manages to simultaneously scoff at me and judge me and invalidate me yet again. This is his response to what, to me, are the most terrifying words one can ever really hear about themselves. That was his response.

Another nail in the coffin of this marriage. I heard the hammer swing down on that one.

His absurd immunity to my pain in that moment started to dry my tears. I felt baffled, disbelieving, amazed, angry at how he was reacting. Well, this is it, I thought to myself. This exact thing is why I can’t. I moved back to the sink, resuming my abandoned pot-washing duty.

He stands there off to my left side. Hovering. Annoying. “But….” He says. Still trying for logic, logic that fits in with his sense of himself and the world. “But…what’s wrong??”

You, I think. I take a deep breath. And speak the truth. “I’m not happy….at all.” My tears resurface again. Pesky. I try to hold them in this time. I don’t want him to see anymore.

I begin to fill the pot with water. Still, in all of this mess, it’s time to cook the ravioli. As the water fills the pot, creeps up toward it’s rim, he speaks.

“That’s enough.”

Yes, I think. That's enough.

2 comments:

  1. I remember this all too well. I'm so sorry you went through so much pain. I was just thinking last night though, when you said remember when you used to live in Jersey, and was like yes, I was feeling sorry for myself for a minute cause I miss having you so close by, and then on my way home, I was thinking about how much happier you are now than you were then, and I was glad.

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  2. This almost made me cry. Thank you.

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