Poem : : My Feet Use to Be

My Feet Used to Be

My feet used to be
Bare and free
Calloused and agile
Gauging the bark
and strength of the branches
as I climbed.
Sinking into the soft red clay
of the well-worn path around the lake,
in spite of the carpet of pine needles,
gallantly thrown
like a cloak over a puddle.
Expertly avoiding the crabby crawdad
under the rock
who did not appreciate two giant invaders
into his watery domain
Quick stepping
on the hot black tar-top road,
softened by the sun
so my indented footprints
were left behind.
An advance scout
Sent out
test the strength
of some cobbled together invention
made by kids with too much time
and too little building experience
on their hands
Now they are prisoners
of age, injury, fitness goals, work, and propriety
Swathed and suffocating in cotton socks
and always shoes
My feet remember
how it used to be
to breathe

On the Loneliness of Marriage

I have lived for over 13 years with someone who is very unlike me.  He is an introvert in the extreme.  And sometimes his hobbies and job make it exponentially more intense.  But this is not a blog about him or why I think he is the way he is.  It is about me and the loneliness of being married to someone like him.  Let me be clear, I love my husband very much and I work very hard to accept him the way he is, in the place he is, and still gently ask for my needs as a partner in marriage to be met.  But sometimes they just can't be met.  He can't give what he hasn't got.  You can't get oranges from a hardware store.

Most nights I put the kids to bed and then he retreats to his man cave and I putter around.  Alone.  In fact, for one reason or another, I do most things alone, or with just me and the kids who are still young enough that I am constantly parenting and not always just enjoying their company.  Trips, church, chores, most meals, holiday preparation, parties, cookouts, camping, hiking, concerts, household projects and repairs, shopping of any kind (and lots more) are, for the most part, done solo or sometimes I can recruit a friend.

You would think I'd enjoy it after a full day of being with three rambunctious, hyper kids.  But I don't.  I recharge by being around people.  Grown people.  My brain wakes up and thinks and connects thought to thought and laughter with laughter.  I enjoy being around people.

The other day as I was driving to a class alone, I began to cry and pray.  "Lord, this feels like the same crushing loneliness I felt as a single person.  The loneliness I cried out to be released from by joining with a spouse.  I really thought that marriage was the answer (even though everyone said it wasn't.  I didn't believe them).  If I could just find a partner to share life with.  If I just had someone beside me to see what I am seeing and enjoy it."

But here I am, the other side of it, and I am just as lonely.  Some days it feels like I might not be ok, because I am so lonely and in that loneliness, feel intensely unloved.  And then I get angry.  I AM OWED COMPANIONSHIP, right?  I AM OWED A PRESENT PARTNER, right?  Usually this ends with me yelling at my hubs and telling him all the things he is doing wrong.  Perfect for making someone want to spend time with me, no?

As I cried and prayed, the thought came to me, if I am the same kind of lonely inside or outside of a marriage, maybe the answer was never marriage.  No brainer, for anyone with therapy experience, but knowing something and KNOWING something are different.  Know what I mean?

I drove to my class and on the way back home, I took a "vitamin" from the Y.  (It is a little slip of paper you can grab on the way out of the door and it has a scripture on it.)  It said ""As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love. John 15:9"

Remain in my love.  Remain.  I am already there.  I just can't see it.  Or feel it.  Because I am focused on what my flawed (and we all are) husband can or can't give me in relationship.

It's not all peaches and roses from here on out.  I know that.  A bible verse doesn't fix me.  Self knowledge doesn't fix me.  I need to be reminded multiple times to remain.  Just stay here.  Present.  And be loved.