My husband no longer says God Bless You when I sneeze.
When a home is no longer a home
I’m depressed. I feel like my entire existence by anyone over the age of 6 is about to be annihilate into the black hole of marriage and the relocation that is about to take place. I gave up my career for my marriage, and then again for my children. I started playing tennis again and finally got on the ridiculous team that isn’t a team but a hierarchy of house location. That accomplishment took me a year. Winning the club tennis tournament with a partner that stayed out of the politics came shortly there after. So that’s that. There is nothing left to accomplish here. It’s all living in the shadows of my children, and my half-present husband. I can’t stand it. There isn’t enough Xanax to numb me to the sadness of it all.
I’m not trying to accomplish the cover anymore. It’s all out of my hands. Every time I try to articulate my feelings to my mother, she gets angry at me, and turns it back to me about how much she worked so that I could have the life that I have now. Let’s face it, no one likes to work. The greatest joy in life is spending time with the ones you love doing absolutely nothing of importance, but not desiring to be doing anything else anywhere else. I see my mother so angry, and I say to myself, “I am never going to do that to my own”. I would never tell my children the emptiness of me, because if it were not for them, my life would be an abyss of nothing. It’s just the rest of me that is gone.
I try to articulate my feelings to my husband, who no longer says “God Bless You” when I sneeze. It’s a disconnect of continental proportions. He prays to his God to be present, whatever in the hell that means, but then when I try to communicate after putting the three kids to bed, Prince charming is nodding off into his long awaited slumber. Our only communication is about his dreams, his calendar, and coordination of the impending move.
John got an email the other day from Mr. V. Mr. V is the husband of Mignonne’s godmother, Mrs. V. He’s agnostic. Mr. V obviously had received a communication from John. that we were moving, and replied that although he was sad to see John go, he didn’t much care for me. Nice. Neighbor too. It just goes on and on. So I continue to just stay out of the way and pray to St. Joseph for us to start over away from this place.
I’m perpendicular to the world. I’m honest.
Besides receiving a poor behavior stick in class today, Jack received a gift in the mail from the Nanny Napper. It was a really great CD of music for children by a band from New Orleans. He wanted to call her to say thank you. I didn’t want to open up the flood gates so I dialed the phone for him. Min didn’t pick up, so I’m not sure if he left a message, but I’m sure she’ll see that there was a call from us. I guess the gift is her way of reaching out. I’ll have him write a thank you note. We didn’t get to it though. I have no stamps and the brilliant first grader had an hour of home work plus twenty minutes of reading to accomplish. Priorities. It’s such a scene with the three kids by myself and getting dinner on the table, and the homework done, and making sure the house is picked up for the showings scheduled the next day. I’ve cut back their bath schedules.
I need to figure out my marriage and what I am getting out of it. Right now, I feel that I am the governess and concubine. I’m numb to any emotion with my husband. I feel invisible.
I remember how we got started. I adored him and lived for him. He took 9 months to finally break up with his girlfriend and then it was another five months before we really were acknowledging that we were together. It wasn’t that he wasn’t sure about us. It was that he felt guilty about her because she was so good to him. Isn’t that me too? Surely, the man has to question whether it would just be better for him if he wasn’t held back by my deficiencies. I question it.