Mourning
My psychiatrist advised me to take time out, especially when I am not feeling so well, to mourn the death of an idealised relationship. Today I have decided to do so publicly in my blog, because I feel it might help if I write a few things down rather than just keeping them all in my head. I have no one here to talk to about it, and this, for me, is the next best thing.
I did have an idealised relationship. I thought that it could be perfect as long as I kept working at it. I thought that my marriage was going to be the last relationship I would ever have. I was so happy on my wedding day, marrying the man I loved beyond reason and looking forward to a life together with him.
I idealised things to the point where I said no wrong about him. I kept his nasty little secret to myself, not telling anyone other than those I most trusted, and I never told them more than one incident until I finally left. Then the truth came out.
In the time together however, I did what I could to make him notice me, to get him as part of my ideal. I went from playing Stepford wife and doing everything for him with a smile to returning his ignoring. Nothing seemed to make any difference to him at all. I forgave his little strays with the online girl and with a friend, simply because I did not want to leave the relationship. Part of me was happy despite the reality, simply because I was with the man who meant so much to me. I could ignore his flaws and faults as long as he was there.
Now I sit here deeply sad and miserable because the ideal is no more. It died the minute I had my eyes opened to the truth of the monster I lived with, the one that inhabited the body of the man I wanted to devote my life to. I feel lost and lonely without him, yet know that the "him" I miss is the idealised one, the loving, caring husband that disappeared some years back.
I wish that I could speak to him, to have him tell me that everything will be fine, that the past can be erased and he will be my ideal husband, but that is just wishful thinking. My ideal husband doesn't exist and I wear widow's weeds on the inside for the man I lost. I don't think I will ever get over the loss of my husband. I still cry in the night wanting his arms around me, then nightmare about his hands round my neck. The hardest part is knowing the physical man is still there, still alive, still breathing but not the man I married. That man is dead and gone and the warmth and affection I had from him that made me love him is no more.
Sometimes I just want him to tell me he is sorry for what he did, to have him care, but the man that would do that is long gone. My husband, my friend, is gone. I miss him, but there is nothing left for me to do other than try and live every day without him.
I did have an idealised relationship. I thought that it could be perfect as long as I kept working at it. I thought that my marriage was going to be the last relationship I would ever have. I was so happy on my wedding day, marrying the man I loved beyond reason and looking forward to a life together with him.
I idealised things to the point where I said no wrong about him. I kept his nasty little secret to myself, not telling anyone other than those I most trusted, and I never told them more than one incident until I finally left. Then the truth came out.
In the time together however, I did what I could to make him notice me, to get him as part of my ideal. I went from playing Stepford wife and doing everything for him with a smile to returning his ignoring. Nothing seemed to make any difference to him at all. I forgave his little strays with the online girl and with a friend, simply because I did not want to leave the relationship. Part of me was happy despite the reality, simply because I was with the man who meant so much to me. I could ignore his flaws and faults as long as he was there.
Now I sit here deeply sad and miserable because the ideal is no more. It died the minute I had my eyes opened to the truth of the monster I lived with, the one that inhabited the body of the man I wanted to devote my life to. I feel lost and lonely without him, yet know that the "him" I miss is the idealised one, the loving, caring husband that disappeared some years back.
I wish that I could speak to him, to have him tell me that everything will be fine, that the past can be erased and he will be my ideal husband, but that is just wishful thinking. My ideal husband doesn't exist and I wear widow's weeds on the inside for the man I lost. I don't think I will ever get over the loss of my husband. I still cry in the night wanting his arms around me, then nightmare about his hands round my neck. The hardest part is knowing the physical man is still there, still alive, still breathing but not the man I married. That man is dead and gone and the warmth and affection I had from him that made me love him is no more.
Sometimes I just want him to tell me he is sorry for what he did, to have him care, but the man that would do that is long gone. My husband, my friend, is gone. I miss him, but there is nothing left for me to do other than try and live every day without him.
posted by Me at 4:22 pm
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