Therapy Tuesday
10:36 AM Edit This 7 Comments »
I spent the morning crying in therapy. I don't always do that. In fact, we laugh a lot more than anything anymore. I don't know what this is. The weather? My current circumstances in life? The anniversary of Jason's death looming in the near future? The holiday season coming up? Medication change? I'm not doing well. I miss him so much. The aching kind of miss. And I have no idea why now. Carolyn (my therapist) is trying to dig and poke at things to figure out why now and that prodding produces tears. The sobbing kind today.
She asked about Mr. Internet and how things are going and I say, "I think they're good. " And then I start tearing up and she says that if they were that good, I probably wouldn't be crying. You see, the last time Mr. Internet and I tried to spend the night together didn't go very well. I mean, that's part and parcel of figuring out how to be and compromise with someone new and it's not that big of a deal. Or so I tried to make myself believe. We cuddled for awhile and then he turned away and promptly fell asleep. I laid there and laid there and laid there. No sleep. Nothing. No matter what I did. So I tried cuddling up to him. And he wasn't interested. I tried again a couple hours later. Still not interested. It's not like he was pushing me away or anything, but I could tell he wasn't into it. And in the early morning, he says to me, "I'm a big cuddler, but I don't like to cuddle when I'm sleeping." Which is totally fair and I'm glad he told me and I asked him to hold me then. Which he did. And I promptly fell asleep. After hours and hours of agonizing insomnia.
Why? Because that's how I slept with Jason. Always entwined. Always. I felt safe in his arms. He felt safe in mine. No matter what the world had dished out for the day, there was safety there. I tried describing it to Carolyn - how that felt. That almost desperateness that came with holding one another. That's what produced sleep. That safe feeling. And Mr. Internet doesn't do that. And I don't know how to be with someone who doesn't sleep with me that way and it hurts my heart that in that instant I came to know how much I still miss Jason's presence in my life, much less my bed.
She asked about Mr. Internet and how things are going and I say, "I think they're good. " And then I start tearing up and she says that if they were that good, I probably wouldn't be crying. You see, the last time Mr. Internet and I tried to spend the night together didn't go very well. I mean, that's part and parcel of figuring out how to be and compromise with someone new and it's not that big of a deal. Or so I tried to make myself believe. We cuddled for awhile and then he turned away and promptly fell asleep. I laid there and laid there and laid there. No sleep. Nothing. No matter what I did. So I tried cuddling up to him. And he wasn't interested. I tried again a couple hours later. Still not interested. It's not like he was pushing me away or anything, but I could tell he wasn't into it. And in the early morning, he says to me, "I'm a big cuddler, but I don't like to cuddle when I'm sleeping." Which is totally fair and I'm glad he told me and I asked him to hold me then. Which he did. And I promptly fell asleep. After hours and hours of agonizing insomnia.
Why? Because that's how I slept with Jason. Always entwined. Always. I felt safe in his arms. He felt safe in mine. No matter what the world had dished out for the day, there was safety there. I tried describing it to Carolyn - how that felt. That almost desperateness that came with holding one another. That's what produced sleep. That safe feeling. And Mr. Internet doesn't do that. And I don't know how to be with someone who doesn't sleep with me that way and it hurts my heart that in that instant I came to know how much I still miss Jason's presence in my life, much less my bed.
7 comments:
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It's good you find this stuff out now. He is who he is, you're not going to change that. You need to figure out if that's a deal breaker.
Keep in mind that the other relationship had it's downfalls also! Right?
~hugs~
I know how hard it is to not compare the two.
I'm here if ya need to talk.
You poor thing.
I cannot imagine what it must be like to live with such a great loss.
I don't know what I would do if my husband didn't immediately open his arms for me when I got near him at night.
Like Kristen, I cannot imagine the loss that you've been dealt. From here, it's easy to say you should find comfort in sleeping alone before you can find comfort in sleeping with someone else ... and so, when you do finally sleep with that someone else, you will find security just in that person being there, even if they aren't wrapped up in you. But, I know it's much more difficult to live. More complicated. More deep. And so, instead, I reach out and hope things will get better with therapy and with time. Don't hold in the tears; sometimes it just feels right to let go.
I understand, sweet Kate. You are still mourning the loss of a significant part of your heart. You can't really know the full depth of that loss until you're presented with an alternative that points out the differences. Cry it out, and then find something new, a compromise. It's hard, but in the end you will be stronger for it.
I'm sorry sweetie, I wish I could fly over there and give you a big hug! I can't imagine how hard it is to lose someone that close to you, but you sound like you're really strong - and you'll find somebody again I'm sure of it!
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