Highs are cool. Perfect nights like Harry and I had on Thursday. But highs do not sustain a relationship. Nor does normal life. I know a ton of couples who have “normal” and are wallowing in unfulfilled boredom. No – what really makes or breaks a relationship is how they handle stress. When someone or something snaps how is that person a support to you – or not. It’s like the normal days you get up, you train, you prepare, you live. The parades you boast and celebrate. But it’s in the trenches where you see what you’re made of.
This is the stage where the rubber meets the road I think. Harry and I are 9 months in. 3 more and it will be a year. I almost can’t believe it.
You hear people talk about the new normal all the time. But I’ve been craving normal for a while and tonight I was assaulted with the old normal. I went […]
Last night Harry came over in the early morning. “I’m trying baby, I love you and I’m trying.” He was pleading with me. “I’m trying too.” I realized something in that moment. Right then he was my best friend and what he needed most was a hug
Reflection can be a funny thing when you are relying only on your memory. It can change history. Because your present knowledge colors how you view your past. This blog helps me to not let that happen.
March of 2010, I wrote a blog post attempting to define the concept of love. But I had a conversation with Harry today that made me realize I severely need an addendum to that post. I said that ultimately love is a choice.
This is one of my sickening love posts. Readers beware:
I’m not a prude by any means but I’m never been a fan of public displays of affection. Breast feeding aside, I think there is a time and a place for PDA’s. Passionate kissing and groping, heck no, not in front of me. A peck on the lips, hand holding, a hug…all good.
OK, I was bragging about how Harry and I never let a disagreement turn into an argument in my last post and the other night we met up after work for a quick bite to eat and it ended badly. Why? I don’t know. Different reasons, and we are all better now. But it just goes to show that it can happen to the best of us.
While it is odd to hear him laughing in the other room, I know without a shadow of doubt I don’t want history to repeat itself. NO way. I don’t want him back. That would be as maddening to me as a record that skips and keeps playing the same few lines over and over again. I want him to find a good life for himself and could only hope it would be as good as the life I have found for myself.
Feminists will not like this post, but I don’t care. I lived for years as a proud woman who handled anything work threw at me and accepted (albeit begrudgingly my role as brain and decision maker for the family.) It was a burden. I didn’t want it and I didn’t like it. But I was strong willed and I knew what I was good at and was told what I was bad at so there it was. I was in an upside down marriage. I wore the pants.