Mr. D says I have a tendency to project my stress onto our relationship, and he may be right. Sometimes when we smoke at night, I find myself unable to get comfortable in his arms, or on the couch, or in the bed. I just sit there, anxious and tense, wondering why I can’t relax, which compounds the growing feelings of inadequacy that mar my Groundhog’s Day existence, where every day is the same, and I never feel good enough at home or at work, and I wonder if I’m arrogant for wanting more for our life, or ambitious for dreaming too big.
I told Mr. D that I was sorry if I take my woes out on him, and he said it’s okay, that at least I don’t express it on the kids, or at my job, or with my parents. And then I wondered, is that marriage? Is that what we do for the ones we love? Absorb some of their stress while they get their shit together?
If so, I’m grateful for it. If not, I’m tipsy from the wine, and these are all thoughts for an essay on another day.
Marriage is love, and I love all of you. Wouldn’t trade you for the world, but I agree, let’s get out and see more of it!!!
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