Patterns and Cycles

Bewildered
How did we end up back here?
Arms curled around the empty ache
As if to somehow hold myself together

Weren't we happy, connected, together?
Growing towards one another

Wrenched apart
Walls slammed into my face
Silence echoes
Mocking
Tearing at our bond

Pushed away
To stumble and fall
Blame rains down on my heart
From lips that once spoke affirmation

Defending the fragile nature of my becoming
From one sworn to cherish
Bruises would feel like welcome relief
From the battering of criticism against my soul

Intimacy has fled
Chased out
Time poured into everything but us

I exist
Shrouded in loneliness
Huddled against the shame
Trapped by unreasonable expectations

The dam breaks
Tears spill from swollen eyes
Recognition
Dawning awareness

Grief-stricken apologies
A return to different choices
The bond repaired, rewoven
Until the next time.

Sobbing on the Kitchen Floor

It's one of those seasons again.
The ones where I'm his yo-yo,
never certain which way his fingers will flick me.

Will I go hurling towards the floor yet again?
Will this be the hit that shatters my heart,
or will it only be a dent, a scratching of paint?
Or will he stop half way down, and jerk me in a circle,
weaving me in intricate patterns and knots?

He filters what is told to others,
making me the bad guy,
the unreasonable wife,
the too-fragile one,
the ball-buster.

My words become his justification
to continue to toy with my heart -
 my words,
yanked out of context,
 thrown back in my face,
slightly twisted,
 just a little bent.

He's learning to pull me close,
to hold me in his hand without having to hurl me back to the floor.
It's a learning though,
and my heart, MY heart bears
the consequences and scars of his progress.
I didn't think there was room on my heart for more scars.
Somehow he found the few unmarked places
and stabbed me clean through.

Marriage and Grief Work

I have two other posts started, sitting in my drafts from today. I can't seem to complete either of them right now. I'm processing a lot from the past in between fights with my husband. I don't know if it's just where we're both at in our individual journeys right now or if there's something else going on. There are big themes behind the fights, themes of broken trust, lies of omission, and withholding self. It's exhausting.

It's layers of healing.  Frankly I don't know how to talk about what's happening in my marriage, what has happened in my marriage. Intimacy anorexia isn't a common term.  It's still pretty new as a label for a grouping of issues.  I don't particularly want to do the whole information post on it. I know it would be helpful to have one more voice out there in the world talking about it, but I already do that in person enough.  I don't want to become the poster child for what it looks like to live with a spouse who intentionally withholds intimacy in all it's forms.

It's better than it's ever been and there is still so much healing work to be done. The fights are nothing like they were our first year of marriage. They aren't even like they were a year ago.  The conflict is healthy most of the time. It's still painful.  It's painful to still be rebuilding trust - and when that takes a step or two backwards in the span of three days, it's a little much for my heart to bear.

When that shit hits the fan at the same time as some of my own identity work - it's messy.  My brain hurts and I need to scream.  There's this picture in my brain of me standing in the middle of no where, screaming until I crumble, sobbing like my heart has been broken until I throw up and pass out. That's how it feels right now.  It will feel better and hey at least I'm not medicating how I feel.  This is raw and ugly but my feelings are mine. I'm honouring them for what they are, what they have to teach me and releasing them in healthier ways than I have ever done before.