Where is the love?

May 1, 2009

Yesterday, N forgot me.

He’d asked me to walk down to his department picnic, held not too far from campus and starting a bit before I usually get off work.  I left work early, walked down a couple of steep-ish sorts of hills, got to the park, looked around, and no one was there.  Not a soul, not a single jogger or child swinging on the swingset.  I double-checked to make sure I was in the right place and I was.  I considered walking back up the two steep-ish hills to campus and calling him from my office, but decided to walk home.

I called his office from home.  They’d moved the picnic inside because it looked like it might rain (though it didn’t).  He apologized for not telling me.  I said it was fine.

And in spite of the blister on my heel from walking home in a shoe-sock combination not designed for long distances, it would have been fine if he hadn’t come home an hour or so later and focused on the Chicago Bulls instead of me.  I know it’s playoffs, but a girl can use a little reassurance after something like that.  Just a little would have been fine – I’m not the sort to ask for flowers or a string quartet or anything.  Just a cuddle, a conversation, a “let me make it up to you.”

This is the sort of thing that happens lately.  I get the sense that our emotional receptors are not completely tuned into the right frequencies.  He worries that I’m not as affectionate as I was.  I feel rejected because when I hit on him he doesn’t seem to respond.  I worry that I’m too subtle, but grabbing him in the kitchen and making out with him, going to bed naked – not especially subtle, really.

Not things I’ll be trying again any time soon, either.

I worry that my post-baby body is the problem.  And it probably is, in one of two ways.  He may just not be that physically into me now even though he still loves me.  Completely understandable.  I need to make some serious changes, and I’ve known this for a while.  Or it could be that my insecurities about this post-baby body are the problem.  I feel so damned tentative and afraid of rejection so much of the time, even around him.  I know he’s picking up on it, but I’m not sure he understands what’s going on.  I worry that my insecurities are playing into his.

In any case, physical rejection, real or imagined, from this man I love more than anything, makes me feel so damned stupid and foolish and idiotic.  I want to lock myself into a cave or a cloister and bang my head against the wall till I can’t feel anything.  I want to wear thick flannel pajamas to bed every night for the rest of my life.

If Teddy were with us, would I still feel this way?  I honestly don’t know, but I suspect it wouldn’t hurt quite this much, if only because I’d be less quick to blame myself for being inadequate.

Damn it.  I just finished off another box of kleenex.



  1. oh, so sorry. i think this is part of grief.

    really, i would just say all those tings to him. (without the ‘i expect this from you’) but just how you feel about your body and your physical relationship.

    seems like you are not so far from work, if you wore the right shoes, could this be a nice-day routine?

  2. For what its worth, I’ve often felt this way as well. I agree with Ya Chun, I think it’s a grieving thing. It hurts though.

  3. Oh, crap. I don’t know what to say. Just sending lots of love and hugs and hope.

  4. ((hugs)) Erica.
    You are not inadequate. You are just hurting.
    Thinking of you.

  5. Thanks, everyone. We did talk about it, and some surprising things came from the talking, and while we have some things to work on, we now know what those things are.

    Grief is many things, but sometimes it is the thing that makes other feelings stronger, brighter, harder to ignore. Not always a bad thing, though not especially restful.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: