I'm deathly afraid of his rejection one more time. I'd like to go back in time a bit and share some information that I've never posted. Actually, I've never shared this with another soul, and now I'm going to blab it to the world.
I'm fairly certain Mr. W. feels he "rescued" me when we began as friends so long ago. I had moved to CA by myself, with no friends or family and had begun a traumatic breakup with my guy of 2 years.
I know he enjoyed the fruits of his empathy: I moved closer to him when he validated me. But I think it is very important to understand that he did validate me, he did offer me words of encouragement as another man broke up with me (that I was attractive and nice) and provided physical comfort for my sorrow.
Once he started to court me, my sorrow was expected to go away. Why? I was supposed to understand that HE was my knight in shining armor. Well, life doesn't work that way. Why not? Because he was not responsible for my unhappiness, which makes him not the solution to my happiness either.
Let's flash forward to February 2000. We receive definitive word that D6 (who was then just about D3) clinched her diagnosis. I can honestly say that this was one of THE MOST agonizing moments in my personal history.
While I had known that things weren't right and that she was behind, until that moment I held out hope that she would one day speak (I will always long to hear the words I LOVE YOU, MOM from her mouth), go to college, hold a job, marry and have children.
In that single moment, my life tapestry was brutally ripped to shreds with a knife. I see things differently now because I have done a lot of work in healing.
But back then, it was tormenting and full of anguish. I was, in the span of a phone call from Texas, the mother to a little girl who was defined as mentally retarded, mute, epileptic and would be dependent on us financially, physically and emotionally for the rest of her days here on earth.
It was more than I could bear.
I woke up the following morning, literally paralyzed in grief and despair. I crawled into the shower, where I lay at the bottom in a heap, sobbing hysterically. I literally crawled out of it, wet, and slumped onto the step that led to the garden tub.
There was my husband, blinking back the tears while shaving. He looked down at me with empathy but fear. I realize now that he fears me being anything but happy.
He inquired why I seemed so distraught. All I could do was sob, my body shivering with despair and racking with guilt and dismay. He sat down next to me on the stoop and hugged me. He cried a bit and held me while I allowed my spasms to go full circle until they finally stopped.
He let go of me, stood up and said, "It feels better to get that crying done. But there is really nothing you can do about this, Bets. Quit feeling sorry for yourself and get yourself dressed. We have a lot going on today."
I see that he didn't know what to do with his own feelings about our new information. I understand that and I empathize with it. But that stance has been his M.O. all along.
He would then sing me the lines of that dumb song, "Don't worry, be happy."
Well, if you don't know what sadness is, how will you know what happiness is?
I've been there. And I would spare anyone else the experience.
How do I express my vulnerabilities to someone who has to have them packaged very neatly with a fairy tale ending?
I'm always expected to put on my cheery smile after I cry. Why can't I just be allowed to be sad until I feel it's okay to be happy again? Why am I then accused of leading a pity party?
I need him to show ME some emotions. To cry about the life that we share together (some of it is sad, but it makes me happy in the long run). To express frustration with our life. To express the things that bring him joy. To tell me that he's scared of taking care of our daughter. To tell me that he doesn't blame me for what happened.
Instead, I get blank space, occupied by a 6' man with a blank expression, arms of steel and a heart of stone.
What do I do about this?
"There are only 2 ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle."
