It's complicated.

Things are complicated.

Isn't that a funny statement, really.  I mean, of course things are complicated.  Most things in adult life are.  But some things inherently by definition are supposed to be smoother and kinder.  When a man and woman love each other, and they have a family, and many many years together, it should be a time where talking about almost anything is simple, easy, comforting, like putting on your favorite slippers on a cold morning.

When she has to worry about making him angry, and she has to be careful and meticulously pick and choose what she says and does just to please him.  But sometimes something triggers the illusion to go through another part of the funhouse of mirrors and smoke.  Underneath the feet are the shards of broken sea shells, egg shells, and all shells.  Because if you crack them you make noise and you seem to make a lot of noise. Noise is bad.  Noise is very very bad.  Quiet is peace.  It is also fear. Listening, as if you were in a dark forest with no light alone and vulnerable.  Waiting.  Heart pounding.  Vigilant. Then the sun comes up, and you find yourself in a meadow.  And you are laughing together, and hugging. Your mind lets you feel warm, and wanted. Things are clearer, and focused. Going places, doing things, loving, laughing being human.  Until.  You become so complacent, and you push too far, and the frustration comes back. The distance returns. And just about every 2 to 3 weeks a huge angry explosion over something you don't quite understand.  Who screams at their wife and their kids. Who breaks things?  Fear.  The moment the anger re enters, she feels a large lump go down her throat and it becomes hard to breathe.  All previous warmth escapes as if a window was opened on a freezing cold day.  And he's mad, disgusted, annoyed, or some other form of reaction to something you did, or the kids did.   Then he goes to his quiet place. Hours sometimes days.  Goes to work. Goes to the gym. Comes home. Does some laundry. Watches wheel of fortune, the news, and goes to bed. Repeat cycle.  And she doesn't know what to do. He shuts her out. There is no talking about things.  She tells her therapist, but without avail.  Because the cycle has been turning for far longer than she can even remember.  Takes care of the kids. The dog. And waits until he changes again and returns telling her she "over reacts", that he was "just kidding" and says "gimme a hug".  She is spinning like a little girl.  Like the time she was spinning in the Atlanta Airport just spinning, and she was lost.  Maybe he is right.  Maybe it is all in her head.  She over exaggerates.  She should be able to take the anger and absorb it, without letting it hurt.  She pretends this to be true. And he is nice to her, flirty, but still distant.   After 10 years of therapy, and countless books, articles, and videos everything tells her it is not in her head. That husbands don't scream at wives like that, sarcasm and threats, even things like "I'm gonna take Thomas to the diner for Breakfast, lunch and dinner" because she didnt go grocery shopping.  Said in anger.

She knows there are many journals filled with feelings.  Feeling of love. Feelings of pain. Feelings of happy times. then back to the low low desperation kind of pain when she just wants to wrap herself around the kids and fly away like a giant bird.  Feelings of, "marriage is hard, right, but you have to stick it out. get through the tough stuff"  Feelings of wondering if men all act this way, getting ANGRY, and then going for a week or two being quiet and withdrawn, a spell of intense happiness, and then some small thing lights the fuse.  Repeat cycle.

Oh for sure, there is a cycle.  She has been watching and documenting it for years.  And in a very strange way she knows he will never work with her.  He will never admit that the anger is wrong, or that anything he does is wrong.  He actually hollered at her in front of his parents, and she was the ONLY one who stood up against it, they all just look away.  And he yells at her again as she tries to leave the room, tells her she is TOO SENSITIVE and OVER REACTING. AGAIN.

And she works really hard to get Daniel a scholarship at the Y.  He gets to swim again.  They bring him in.  It is the very first time, in many many months possibly that he has lifted and held his son.  Swimming is great for Daniel. It is a bonding time between parents and son.

Things are complicted.  Yes. Yes they are.  Its called welcome to the life you think you dreamed of always having only to be given a life that wasn't on the order form you fill out when you placed that ring on your finger.  But things change an evolve.  The kids get older.

Not knowing what to say.  Not being able to just completely be yourself. Feeling like a failure because of things like "dinner being after 7pm" or "not finishing the laundry she started".

One minute, loved, the next minute left.  They go to sleep, in separate rooms.  He says her snoring is unacceptable, she needs to listen for Daniel in the night.  He wakes up and goes to work, without ever a hug or kiss goodbye, she rarely even sees him in the morning. He just goes.  In the early days, they would never leave eachother without a hug and kiss.  It was important.  They would sleep together, and kiss goodnight.  Now he watches TV and she sits on her laptop.  He doesn't care that she isn't there in the bed, doesnt seek her out, unless he is in the mood for "what husbands and wives do", but after that is done.  The distances comes back.   Its so frustrating for her.

Wanting to be held.  Talked to. Respected, Loved. Valued. Laughed with. Snuggled with.  It has been a decade since someone held her while she slept.  She misses that terribly.  He tells her to get off. Move away.  

It's complicated.  Old love and memories still floating around inside, but the pain and fear of the anger coming back, because it always comes back, are haunting demons.  Tip toe through the egg shells. Find the warm meadow, sometimes, he's there and loves her.  She has this child who needs her.  So much has been sacrificed.  So much of who she really is inside herself.  He doesn't care or see it.  She prays, and prays.  Starts reading psalms, and books again. Starts vlogging and writing again.  Because she fears that one day something really bad will happen.

How does she tell this man, who she is married to, that his anger, sarcasm, short tempered ness, and criticism are wearing away at her soul.  He just says she over exaggerates. Over analyzes.  and after the pain wears off, she starts to believe him.  The worst things can be said, with never an apology.  So she turns to God, and facebook, for some kind of confirmation that she is actually a good person.  She knows she is a good mother.  But maybe she is a bad wife.

Its complicated.  And the cycle repeats.  tWriting this entry, she is in the little bed in the extra room, while he watches TV.  He will fall asleep.  She will too. And the lonliness will stir up some dreams. Still dying to be held, touched, hugged, and loved she grabs a pillow, and the dog curls up on her feet.  Human closeness is so important.   She is thinking too much.  Tears are starting.  She wishes he would love her as if he cherishes her.  She prays that he would start listening, and communicating as a friend and partner again. But he rarely listens, and when he asks a question 9 times out of 10 he actually walks away before people answer.  The kids try to be good kids.    But.  It's complicated.

It's all complicated.  She knows another therapy session is coming.  So at least there will be a place to let out all of the feelings that she has.

And she realizes that today she missed her son's pulmonary appointment in Hartford, and that's not good.  She went to work instead.  Feeling quite numb.  And quite sad.  And quite depressed.

Perhaps tomorrow will be a fresh start!!!!  Perhaps things will burst into life and he will get help for the anger, and work on the marriage and plan the rest of their life growing old together.  Perhaps.   But, its complicated.