I love the family I created so much that it shatters my heart sometimes.
When my husband looks at me with disappointment it breaks me in a way that I cannot imagine. It's like an unknown force grasped me by the hair and thrashed me against the crumbling walls of our carefully constructed dreams. I gasp and choke with inexplicable, infinite helplessness. It is violence against my soul. How can he not love me? How can I survive not being loved by him?
It reminds me of the day my dead grandfather was being carried away and my grandmother repeatedly collapsed in my mother's arms. It makes me think of how stupidly I love my husband. My worst fear is him feeling he committed a mistake with me. It makes me shake with anger. It makes me hate myself. It makes me want to rip my skin off and change the very structure of my being so it suits him better. Why am I so difficult? Why can't I be more malleable? Why can't I simply let go of who I am so I can be his? Why...why was I built in this indomitable way? Why can't I change the shape of my heart or change the algorithm of my soul? Why am I failing? Why am I failing at what I am living for?
I thought I had changed myself. But the sadness pooling at the corner of his lips, the way his eyes don't register me, the alcohol on his breath tell me how badly he wants to escape me. I search myself...did I do such a bad job of being my anti-thesis? I desperately search for any piece of me I may have left unchanged. It's was during one of this frantic searches that it hit me. It's not my shoddy patchwork of a personality...it is me. I reek of stubbornness. I stink of my previous failures...of all the uphill journeys I made to make this marriage work. The foul stench of my carcass is smudged against the otherwise pristine walls of his memories.
I have nothing. But even that won't do. I wish I could break my body in a desperate attempt to break the mirrors of my previous selfs. I wish I could shatter the fabrics that hold my current personality. I wish I could restitch my soul in a way that will make him happy.
Anything..something...nothing.What must I do?
I cannot watch him drift away from me knowing that it was me. I cannot see the dejection in his eyes reflecting my shape. I ache.
When my husband looks at me with disappointment it breaks me in a way that I cannot imagine. It's like an unknown force grasped me by the hair and thrashed me against the crumbling walls of our carefully constructed dreams. I gasp and choke with inexplicable, infinite helplessness. It is violence against my soul. How can he not love me? How can I survive not being loved by him?
It reminds me of the day my dead grandfather was being carried away and my grandmother repeatedly collapsed in my mother's arms. It makes me think of how stupidly I love my husband. My worst fear is him feeling he committed a mistake with me. It makes me shake with anger. It makes me hate myself. It makes me want to rip my skin off and change the very structure of my being so it suits him better. Why am I so difficult? Why can't I be more malleable? Why can't I simply let go of who I am so I can be his? Why...why was I built in this indomitable way? Why can't I change the shape of my heart or change the algorithm of my soul? Why am I failing? Why am I failing at what I am living for?
I thought I had changed myself. But the sadness pooling at the corner of his lips, the way his eyes don't register me, the alcohol on his breath tell me how badly he wants to escape me. I search myself...did I do such a bad job of being my anti-thesis? I desperately search for any piece of me I may have left unchanged. It's was during one of this frantic searches that it hit me. It's not my shoddy patchwork of a personality...it is me. I reek of stubbornness. I stink of my previous failures...of all the uphill journeys I made to make this marriage work. The foul stench of my carcass is smudged against the otherwise pristine walls of his memories.
I have nothing. But even that won't do. I wish I could break my body in a desperate attempt to break the mirrors of my previous selfs. I wish I could shatter the fabrics that hold my current personality. I wish I could restitch my soul in a way that will make him happy.
Anything..something...nothing.What must I do?
I cannot watch him drift away from me knowing that it was me. I cannot see the dejection in his eyes reflecting my shape. I ache.
