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September 18, 2006

there's got to be something better than in the middle

Oh, for God's sake--I apologize to my audience for the horseshit in my last entry, small as it (the audience, not the shit) might be. "I'm afraid of being abandoned," and blah blah blah. Come on. Who falls for that crap? Here's the deal.

What I am really afraid of is that I am wrong, that I have been wrong, and that I will continue to be wrong, on purpose. Jumping vs. falling, in other words.

I am afraid that I have wasted, and am wasting, my time and my love and my (considerable) energy on a situation and a person that/who are, in the end, going to bear out that fear.

There is something in me who insists that the people I love have the qualities I want them to have. In the case of The Husband, I want him to be a noble but flawed, tortured individual, striving to do the right thing (love me) but falling victim to the lowest common denominator (Miss Saigon).

In reality, The Husband is good looking and charming and funny and wonderful to be out on a date with, or at a party with, or doing something with; but his best, amazing-because-it-always-works talent is for getting what he wants and having things his way. He is for Himself.

In reality, The Husband loves it that I want to hang around and love him and be there when he wants to talk, and take care of the kids and the mundane necessities of life, like bills and insurance and such, while he lives with Miss Saigon, whose talents, I know, lie elsewhere.

In reality, The Husband would like for us all to live together under one roof. This he has told me more than once.

I am afraid that, if it was not for my perseverence, it would have been Over between The Husband and me the weekend he left, which would have made him sad, probably, but which would also have been okay, I believe.

I am afraid that, if it were not for my perseverence now, we would have no relationship except through our children, and given the type of father he is (interested but not involved), it would be a distant one.

Over the months I have seen him drift further and further away, gently, as if he's going out with the tide. Sometimes he answers my phone calls and sometimes he doesn't. He has stopped reading my letters. Ditto for emails. I guess they're too emotional. He wants "peace," by which I assume he means "for you to leave me alone for a change."

I want to think that his relationship with Miss Saigon sucks, which actually I think it does. But I want that it sucks to matter to him, which I think it does not. It only matters to me, and who am I? I am the person left behind, which also sucks, and which matters only, I think, to me.

I am not afraid of being alone, but I am afraid of being alone forever. I am afraid of deliberately choosing the wrong men to love, of having done it since I was a little girl and had no choice.

I am afraid of believing The Husband when he hints around that he will be home, eventually. Just like I believed him the other times he said to me, regarding Miss Saigon, "It's over, I swear it."

I am afraid when I think about how rarely we see him, and how when he deigns to make an appearance it's for only a few hours, for dinner or to lie on the couch and doze.

I am afraid to stop making an effort because I am afraid that my effort is the only thing between us and nothing.

I am afraid because even knowing this, I still choose to jump.

Posted by JudyLa at 06:00 AM | Comments (0)