IF YOU EVER FALL IN LOVE…
fall in love with someone who wants to know your favourite color and just how you like your coffee. Fall in love with someone who loves the way you laugh and would do absolutely anything to hear it. Fall in love with someone who puts their head on your chest just to hear your heart beat. Fall in love with someone who kisses you in public and wants to show you off to everyone they know. Fall in love with someone who makes you question why you were afraid to fall in love in the first place. Fall in love with someone who would never ever want to hurt you. Fall in love with someone who falls in love with your flaws and thinks you are perfect just the way you are. Fall in love with someone who thinks that you are the ONE they would love to wake up to each day.
When I started thinking what to write on my “love life”, I looked my wife in the eyes, rubbed my hands together and made some animal-growling sounds that can only be described as the furthest thing from sexy, and about as creepy as it gets. But by the hairy eyeball that was sent my way at the idea of a post on our love life…I know she got the message, loud and clear. But after 12 years of marriage i know full well what the hairy eyeball means. It means different things all the time, but this time it was in BOLD letters, with flashing lights, siren and fog horn…“POST ON OUR LOVE LIFE…AND KISS YOUR LOVE LIFE GOOD-BYE” I often don’t process the message in time, and end up creating blog-worthy situations. But this time the message was clear. “Do not post about how amazing, wild, passionate, and spicy our love life is. Don’t even think of mentioning that I have the pursuit of a black panther, the pounce of a tiger, and the endurance of a gazelle.” So in respect of my wife, I’ll heed her warning and leave our “love life” out of it.
But in all honesty, this last year has been an extremely trying one for my love life. Not my sex life, but my Love Life. I never focused on my love life. I never really understood my love life, and I was basically terrified at the thought of love. I was 33 years old, sitting on the floor of my bedroom, realizing that I really didn’t understand at all this “crazy little thing called love”. You see, my whole life I’ve loved out of fear. It was full of emotion… I’d even say full of passion. But it was completely driven by fear. Fear of losing it… Fear of damaging it… Fear of the unknown of it… and greatest of all, Fear of being hurt by it. Do I know where this fear came from? Not at all… not a clue… not even a sniff. All I know is that to this day, without question, my biggest fear is that of abandonment. Of losing the one(s) I love. Of being left hurting and reeling. It’s literally, at this point, an uncontrollable fear. Sherry reassures me everyday that she’s in it to the end. And I believe her. I do. In my heart and in my mind. Here’s the thing though. Right now, there are far too many times where I lose control of my mind. And when this happens, all hell literally breaks loose in my head. And when all hell breaks loose, life simply hurts.
When you suffer severe anxiety and depression, you don’t need someone to beat you down. You do more than enough of that yourself. For me, things usually will play out in a circle. I know I explained this in a previous post, but I will quickly do it again. There will be times where I’ll be thinking about the past… reminiscing, we all do it. I’ll be thinking about a time where Sherry and I were taking the day and going up to the lake. The drive, the beach, supper and drinks… all good. But that’s when it happens. I call it the demons, because they might as well be the way they eat at my mind. There’s that thought… that so often just little and meaningless memory. I commented on us working on our beach-bodies, which made her just a little bit upset that I was implying SHE needed to work on HER beach-body. No big deal, an apology, a squeeze of the hand and a wink… like it never happened. It’s back to having drinks and making fun of the couple at the next table. That’s how it played out 3 years ago, when we were actually on that ‘date’. But now, 3 years later, that thought hits me like a sledge hammer. I am the worlds biggest asshole. I might as well have taken her food out from in front of her and given her some shaved ice. Or maybe stand on the chair and announce to the entire bar how embarrassed I am of my ‘horse’ of a wife, and ask for a paper bag to hide her head. Obviously this is not at all what happened… but when the ‘demons’ are in control of your thoughts, that’s exactly how it may as well have been.
This is where things bottom out. The lowest place. It’s dark, it’s lonely, but it’s deserved and it’s comfortable. There are times where I just sit there, feeling like the worst human being on the face of the earth, and not giving a shit. I’ll lay in bed for hours. Won’t eat, won’t talk, and if I do talk it will be to cut myself down… reinstate in everyones mind how terrible a person I am. But the other thing that can happen, is I find that thought that I can’t stop focussing on… and instead of shutting down, anger comes in. I blame myself, I beat myself down. How worthless I am. I’m a terrible husband. Terrible father. Waste of flesh. It builds and builds until I can’t even think. I’m freaking out. Seeing red. Fight or flight. And the sad thing, the only thing that makes this stop every single time… the knife. I’m working at other coping methods, but right now that is the fall back plan.
I know I went off on a trail there, but all that is to show just how my view of love is skewed. It is controlled by fear. Completely. I love out of desperate fear of losing that that I love. I cling. I smother. But then I doubt. I panic. I fight for what I “love”, but as soon as my mind thinks I’m losing it, I push it away. I’m hurtful. I’m hateful. I’m scared. I’ve done things to sabotage and cut off friendships out of fear they’re going to leave me many times. I’ve done it in my marriage. My understanding of love is foggy. It’s unclear. It’s like ikea instructions… I get the picture, but not a clue the words. But I want to. I need to. For the sake of my marriage and my family I have to. And I’m optimistic. Why? Not because of my own doing… but my support. I have, without question, the most amazing wife. I have pushed her face first to hell and dragged her back countless times, and she still chooses to wake up with me. Every. Single. Morning. I have the most amazing example of love at my fingertips, almost literally at all times. She’s patient. She’s doing everything she can to be understanding. She’s a pit bull when she needs to be, and a teddy bear when I need compassion. There is absolutely zero doubt in my mind that if it wasn’t for Sherry, I would not be writing this today. She is my Queen.
So in response to “How is my love life?”. I’d love to say awesome! But as you can see, it’s hurting. It’s damaged. It’s weak. BUT… it’s going to get better. It already is. The bad days still out number the good, but the good ones are there. And that’s something that I could not stake claim to six months ago, and for that I am happy. For that I am proud. And because of that I have confidence that one day I’ll be writing a post on my Amazing LOVE LIFE!!