A different kind of illness
My last words as I prepared to leave; “I can't look at you”, as we embraced, out my words popped: “Someday I want a man like you.” I was accustomed to hugging him. In actuality I thought about it and I wanted him, not a man like him. He probably knew that, in observing my continual apprehensive self and wild women progressively being unleashed, he had to know, after all, everything about my relationship and the patient, Doctor Interaction was without a lot of boundaries.
The soul sickness I had brought to him, has found a new place in my life wanting to grab at releasing what has been relegated to self imprisonment. My drunken moments with him are becoming painful as of late in the depth of the growth he felicitates. God did for me what I could not do for myself; I am like a moth to his flame for the spark of light I get. I have evolved into what for me has become more and more frustrating and confusing. The stress of my private life has been an evolution for recalling the many effects of men on my life; men having a lingering effect on my long term marriage; which I brought from as far back as being a toddler.
Who supported me in the Domestic Goddess tradition while he built his career after many changes in our home while moving? I was very used to looking for some ideal that was also a fantasy propagated by watching Donna Reed and Father Knows Best.
My growth has taken many forms over the years with men. I wish for God to express to me in clarity what I should do with my frustrations besides watching and waiting with Faith…
My soul sickness was part of a trauma coming from my past as life found itself, manifested what I never faced before and now life seems to be forcing itself to be looked at in all I have never wanted to feel and not just run from.
I know that I can't force solutions to make my life something which fits my own picture or try to fix what is out of my power to fix and redo the past, however, I can face what is and see how I can work with what is in place.
