The bitter taste of neediness

I am woman...hear me roar! Okay, maybe not roar, especially since I have been dealing with major allergies this week. But still. Today, I have felt the bitter taste of neediness, and I am not quite sure I like it.
For the last several weeks, he has had to work weekends and I get exactly 1 solid day by his side. Had you asked me a year ago, I would have been fine with that. Now, I am not fairing so well. Granted, it could be because I have started my period and I have been known to get emotional, but even last weekend I felt this way.
"What way," you ask. That I am more invested in this relationship than him. Lately, I have wanted nothing more than to be by his side...touching him, making sure he is not a figment of my imagination, kissing him, holding hands, and all the typical emotional things vulnerable people want in a relationship. And I'm struggling.
Last weekend, although slightly under the influence of alcohol, I told him I wanted him to initiate a physical connection with me. Does he tell me he loves me? Yes. Does he tell me he wants to be with me? Yes. Does that change the fact that I feel as of late that I am the one who takes the physical lead in this relationship? No.
Since he started working weekends too, I feel distance. I feel alone. And, since I have not felt this type of vulnerability, I feel terrified. I'm the one who doesn't need people. I stand on my own two feet! I lean on myself! I'm independent! But... it doesn't seem to be working anymore. And the bitter taste of neediness doesn't sit well. Am I losing myself?!
When I bring it up to him, I am paranoid. I am typical emotional female. I hate that. I'm the un-needy! What has become of me? It makes me want to become distant and unavailable if only to regain the person I know well. I don't know how to handle this new person . In fact, I don't know if I like this new person. Where did I go?

Comments

Tiger must stay in your backpack...

I'm not that parent. The one who gloats too much, and shows off all the pictures. The parent who relays every detail of their kid to let others know how incredible I think they are. Perhaps it is a flaw. Who knows. And I also pride myself in not being a helicopter parent. I teach and let go. I discipline and let go. And I thought I would be ready for this: first day of Pre-K. I have been very positive and uplifting and have wanted my son to be extra ready to go to school. We have talked about it for months! I am ready... Or so I thought. This morning, as white boy was leaving to take them to daycare, he said to Owen, "You can't take Tiger to school tomorrow or he will have to stay in your backpack, so do you want to take him to daycare today?" I thought little of it, but as Owen threw him down on the ground and turned to head out the door, my throat hitched. "Are you sure you don't want to take him today?" He said no. It was a sense of finality. ...

A goodbye love letter to you...

I sat across from my dad at lunch, yesterday, and asked him, "Do you know what tomorrow is?" He said, "Yeah. 1 year." And his eyes grew damp. "I'll never forget walking into that room..." He didn't continue. I didn't ask him to. "I'll never forget the police officer banging on my door at 1130 at night..." I didn't continue. He didn't ask me to. "This journal was given to me several years ago by my children. I know they wanted me to write down my thoughts to get through the rough times I was going through at the time. I did not start this at that time. Why am I starting it now? Well, I only thought I had been through hell back then, but now I realize I didn't have any idea what heartache was until Aug 15, 2010 -" This is the beginning of one of my mother's journals. A journal she started a little over a month after Andy died. And she wrote it--to him. "Dear Mother - Today is the day before Mothe...

Arithmetic of Purpose

By nature, humans will, at one point in their life, ask the question, "For what purpose? Why am I here? What am I meant to do?" Okay, maybe they will ask themselves more than 1 question...but at least around the same theme. "Who am I, and why am I here?" It is built in our very DNA. Growing up, I didn't ask this often. I had a loving family who went with the current. Who I was and why I was here was bound up in my place in my family of 4. I was comfy. I was loved. I was secure. But alas...the question presented itself. I first asked myself this question walking down the streets of Rome. I was alone, I was 21, and I was lost. I had just finished AmeriCorps and felt like I wanted something, but wasn't sure what that was. I had found my faith, at last, and realized that perhaps I wanted to be a bigger part of the Church collective. I felt meaning to my nothingness. I went home with direction. I graduated from college, finally, and started grad school to be...

"Getting older's not been on my plans"

Search This Blog