The Calming Of The Storm

Since it happens so rarely, and I don't know how long it will last, I figured I should chronicle the calming of the waters this week.

There was a catharsis this weekend, taking place in the form of screaming, ranting, raving, and general nuttiness. What always surprises me is just how much snot the human nasal cavities can produce in a short period of time. Where does your body store it? God bless cotton hankies. While I won't explain how I get to that state, my husband is right there beside me, never letting go, always maintaining he'll stay, no matter what. There's no question, then or now, that I don't deserve him or his devotion. A lifetime of betrayal, broken relationships, abuse and abandonment, both real and imagined, has left me certain that he'll desert me like everyone else will: why should he be any different?

Well, because he IS. He said so. He loves me, and he promised. It needs to be enough. Maybe someday it will be enough. And when I come out of the darkness and back into the sunlight like I am now, it IS enough. It's only during the black times that I truly don't trust him to stay the course. It's so hard on him, fighting tooth and nail to make me believe that what he says is real: that he loves me with all my faults, despite my faults. Maybe part of me refuses to believe it because I really don't know if I could put up with me if I were in the same position.

This past weekend, he sat on the floor beside me, and as I screamed at him to just leave me like everyone else, he screamed right back that he damned well wouldn't. Ornery beggar. And for whatever reason, as time passed, and the crying gradually wore down, a peace stole over me. A healing, warming peace, pushing me back into his arms, where I haven't been able to go near him for weeks. It happens that way: out of control, raging anger, violent outburts of craziness, and then the calm. Thank God.

I'm so different now, and as always, it starts with the apologies, and an effort at understanding. Why is it like this? What the hell goes on in my head? I really don't know. All I know is that suddenly it's as if the wind whipping tropical storm-size waves has dissipated, and the ocean is again gently lapping at the sand. The water, my mind, is clear; I can think, and process.

Oh, the pleasure in physically reconnecting with my husband! The joy of having my head in husband's lap may seem like a small thing to others, but to me is a gift to be remembered on those days when I'm curled up in a ball on the other side of the bed, unable to touch anyone, or worse, in another room by myself. The warmth of his hand against my ribs, familiar and comforting, brings tears to my eyes because I know he's thinking the same things I am: how long will it last this time? Lazy Saturday mornings, awakening slowly to his hand brushing my hair from my face as I lay against the warmth of his body: most of you take for it granted ~ let me tell you that WE never will again. For us, they're stolen moments of joy to be treasured for a lifetime.

I'm trying to do what he tells me to do, and just accept it for what it is. Enjoy the "up" days ~ enjoy him, soak up as much of him as he will of me. It's these days when I resent the fact that there are only four hours of waking time with him during the week. It's simply not enough. I need more than that to make up for the hell that I put him through when I'm acting like an ass and doing my damndest to ruin my life and his, too. More time to show him that even though I'm nuts, I do adore him and am ever grateful to him for sticking by me through this lifetime of crazies. And God willing, there WILL come a time when the good will outweigh the bad, and the sun will shine every day.

Meggy