He visits and I fall asleep in my spot.
Curled up in the soft, scratchy nape of his neck.
Tucked under his arm with my hand on his stomach.
Lie me there for a moment and suddenly I’m more tired than I’ve ever been.
I fall asleep without realizing it.
Until his chuckle at my heavy breath wakes me.
I miss my spot.
I want it back, every night.
I want us back sometimes.
I forget about all of the bad days, or they don’t seem so bad.
Or maybe just more justified than they did before.
I miss his laughter, usually at his own jokes.
I miss him calling me from work, just because.
I miss the habitual, more than genuine, ‘I love you’ exchanged at every departure.
I miss.
Then I talk to him.
I remember how frustrating his perpetual smirk was.
That dismissive tone of voice he adopts.
How everything is always, always my fault.
Or at least that I’m guilty of everything he is.
So I have no right to complain.
How he pulls out of every argument early, under the guise of preventing escalation.
Even though he started it.
He doesn’t want the other side presented.
My side.
It’s futile to persist.
I remember everything I hate about us.
How I was swallowed whole in us.
How nothing I did was important to him.
Nothing I said was relevant.
Nothing could satisfy him, or me.
My days were full then, too, of an eager longing for something different.
Something better.
I guess that’s just me.
Always dissatisfied.
I miss my spot.
I want it back, every night.
But I remember more of those old every nights.
How just as I had fallen into the second stage of sleep his arm would be yanked from under my cheek.
He’d roll over, showing me his freckled back.
Muttering something about a bad shoulder.
Or a sleeping arm.
I’d be cold and alone, my body trying to make up for the warmth he’d provided.
That he snatched away so suddenly.
I think about how I sleep alone now.
I depend on nothing but myself and my blankets for heat.
There are no sudden jolts or surprises.
I think it’s better that way; safer at least.
The less dependent on him, the better.
Even if it’s just for heat, or a pillow, at night.
I’m working on the rest of it.
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Oh, wow Maria. This was beautiful, despite the sadness you feel. xoxo
this is so beautiful, Maria
That was so lovely. I don't know what else to say, except that if there is a next time you will pick a better spot and it will cherish you more. Hugs.
I know this sweetie. Gah, how I know.
But I did what you asked….
I have no amazing words to make that part go away..I wish I did.. like I wish I could send you fairy dust and you can sprinkle it on you and make it easier.. Hugs Maria.. hugs..
Wow.
You did good here, girl.
So it's the spot… and not him? Or is that what you are working on?
This is good. Your honesty is good for you.
Smile.
That was beautifully written and poignantly sad.
It's definitely not just you, and I don't think it's about being always dissatisfied. You just want to be happy. You weren't happy in some ways with him and you're not happy in some ways without him. But you won't be happy if you go back either.
I missed my ex and he was physically and emotionally abusive. How fucked up is that?
But I don't any more. It just takes time, that sounds so trite but it really is true.
And then when you find the man who gives you what you need & deserve, and treats you well, you'll look back and wonder how you ever could've missed him.
I am here if you ever need a vent girl. so sorry.
You will find a better, warmer spot.
Time will heal you.
*hug*
Oh, babe.
sigh. it's so fucking hard sometimes.
thinking about you.
I’ve been there, years ago. It’s been almost nineteen years since I left my ex…it took ten to leave him. Over the years we had split several times and I felt that same way. Finally I couldn’t do it anymore. The feeling, that feeling of being without him; not wanting him and not needing him; knowing I would be fine without him…was the greatest feeling in the world. It was a long hard road, but so worth the journey.
You will be fine.
November 17, 2008 at 6:06 pm
I have no idea if I'll ever get there. 6 years now…it feels like I won't.
But, I do try to remind myself of certain things, often. Mostly with this
quote:
*”**I'm selfish, impatient, and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I'm out
of control, but if you can't handle me at my worst you don't deserve me at
my best.”* – Marilyn Monroe
It'll be on my wall shortly. :)
That was so evocative. And I can totally understand missing that, but knowing what you miss isn't the whole story.
Maybe that's why I can't leave still. Afraid I'll miss it. Afraid I'll forget. Afraid I'll be sorry. Afraid to make a damn choice.
This was beautifully tender.
And I love the Marilyn quote. So perfect
November 17, 2008 at 7:33 pm
Whoa – seriously? I had no idea.
Maria Young
immoralmatriarch.com
This was painful and perfect…
Awww this is bitter sweet because I've totally been there. It reminds me of how I felt after I divorced my hubby and sold the diamond engagement ring he gave me to http://www.idonowidont.com for some closure.
I thought I'd never ever find someone like him but I have hope that another Mr. Right will come along. I wish I could write out my feelings as pretty as you do with this post though!
There you go, impressing me with your words again… it's beautiful. (Hugs)
For the longest time I missed my ex's hands, their size, their strength, even though they were the same hands that hurt me, I still missed the way they sometimes made me feel so good. After it was all over I could look him in the eye but I couldn't face those hands.
It's been three years and I finally found the nerve to sneak a peek at those hands the other day and I felt…nothing. It was wonderful.
You'll get there too someday.
November 20, 2008 at 3:02 am
That made me so sad, yet encouraged me, you know? Thanks for that.
Maria Young
immoralmatriarch.com
Ah darling…it truly sucks ass, doesn't it? It's the little things we miss, and the dreams of what could have been that destroy us. I know it. I've lived it. It will get better…eventually.
Hugs & kisses to you.
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