Not Quite Betty Crocker

Last night, at 1:30 in the morning, I needed a cuddle. 

“I need a cuddle,” I whispered as I wormed my way into my husband’s embrace.  Lately I’m asking for what I need and it’s working.

But in a departure from our norm, he laid his head on my shoulder and snuggled into sleep.

And an epiphany slammed into my heart with such force, tears sprang to my eyes.

~~~

I have never held this man in my arms and wanted to protect him from the world.  Despite his youthful demeanor and silly little-boy quirks, I’ve always seen him as a man.

My ex-husband, to me, was always a boy.  I loved him like a child some times, like a father others, but never like a husband, someone with whom the tiny battles of intimacy are fought.

I never fought him.

Instead I ducked and lied and hid from him, as if only his vote counted in our life, as though his judgment on all things was final.  He was the parent I must have needed at the time, taking me in his arms and giving me the stability I must have wanted.  He was my protector, the person who would fix everything and make it all better.

And yet through it all, I was overwhelmed by the suffocating pressure of being responsible for him.  His life was mine to make good, and as someone not even grown up enough to take care of herself, I collapsed under the pressure.

I was eight years old again, trying to protect my divorced parents from sadness by changing the radio station to happy songs.

But he wasn’t my son, or my father; I was neither his parent nor child.  He was my husband, but I was too young and the only relationship I could fathom was parental.  I’d not become enough of an adult to see one in him.

~~~

Joey and I have spent most of our relationship in locked horns, battling over the many things that form our life, but I’ve always seen him as a worthy adversary, perhaps the first in my long line of long relationships.  I’ve never felt the need to take care of him, or make his life good, or be his everything.  I’ve never wanted to wrap him in my arms and protect him from the world.

I’ve never even felt the need to protect him from myself.  {This explains the magnitude of many of our battles.}

This relationship has been hard for me because we’re forging new roles, figuring out life as partners, as adults who have to share.  Sometimes sharing sucks, and I don’t have really have adult partnerships to model. 

So in this dance, we have to step on toes to find the right rhythm, because we’re both responsible for our own feet.

~~~

The tears ended abruptly and a new lightness replaced the lump in my throat. I hid under the covers with my Blackberry, needing to put this understanding into words before it faded.

And another door closed on my previous marriage, this time with a comforting thud.