Pit

It doesn’t feel right when you care for someone- when their emotions matter to you- and you know that your actions are hurting them. Even if you’re only engaging in those actions to protect yourself. It still doesn’t sit well and it shouldn’t. When you care for someone it still gnaws at you, that in protecting yourself, you’re hurting someone that you care about.  

I see the weariness in my husband’s face. I know he’s wondering how long this latest cold front against him is going to last and I want to reach out, but I can’t. I know everything outwardly about me shows indifference towards him but inside I feel waves of emotions- I love him. I want to comfort him, but I’m afraid to.  I want to cross over this massive gulf and believe that it’s safe on the other side with him but I’m terrified to do that.  I want to create and live in these new moments but it’s very rare that I can experience anything new with him without feeling the taint of his old, sordid life. 

I know this pit that I’ve curled up in to so well by now. I’ve spent so much time in it. It’s on my side of the massive gulf, and behind the large, thick wall. It’s here that I go running every time the offensive trigger is too much. When the mind movies of him and her are so clear.  It’s where I go to ensure that the distance between him and I is safe enough for me. 

After the affair- this is where I feel the most safe now. This is the one place I know I won’t get hurt. It’s sad and lonely but it’s safe. It’s my place. He can never come here. He can never taint this place. I know I can’t stay here forever and I won’t,  but in this pit I can heal once again. I can recover and build myself up. I can cycle through my grief again.

 I  know he’s sorry. I know he’s hurting. I’ll get back to him. His sadness weighs on me but for now – in my pit- the only person that matters is me.