August 27, 2013

His Everything

I am my husband's everything.

I am the only person in his life who loves him unconditionally.

I am the only one who isn't afraid of him on some level.

At least, that's what it feels like to him.

Honestly, I can understand why Mark feels this way.

His friends used to do more with him than they do now. He asks and asks if they want to do something sometime, to let him know and he's there. Besides my dad, they don't call.

I try to convince my perceptive husband it's not that they don't like him or care about him. I truly believe they do.

Mark bluntly says, "But they're afraid of me. Afraid something might happen to me when we're together."

This hits me in the gut and I burst into tears. I can't argue. It could very well be true. I've often wondered it myself, never wanting to ask any of his friends for fear of the answer.

"I'm so sorry, honey!", I wail. God, this hurts.

It's not like fair weather friends. Those kind of friends aren't there for you in hard times. They scatter, avoiding you, unable to handle whatever it is you're going through.

Mark's friends are actually always there for him when he's in trouble. They flock to his hospital bedside and offer to help me if I need it.

But when he's OK, living life day to day and just wants to hang out? Mark feels that it's like pulling teeth.

He is a social creature. He's perfect for working retail because he loves interacting with people and loves doing whatever he can to make them happy. It gives him energy, makes him feel alive.

Oh sure, he knows everyone has their own lives to deal with and sometimes people get too busy. But when he hears about others getting together and not including him? That's when it starts to feel like they just don't want to. And what else can he deduce but that it has to do with his health problems?

Even if they don't have the time to get together, might they have a little time for a quick phone call, or even just a text?

So when I spend a week immersed in an audiobook every evening after the kids go to bed, headphones on my ears and crochet project in hand, Mark feels like even I don't want to hang out with him.

He is lonely even though his wife is sitting one couch cushion away.

Being a typical (yet not) man, he keeps his feelings all bottled up until it hurts a little too much and then it comes out at me in anger.

I feel attacked and defend myself, "What, can't I do anything for myself??"

And then we're both hurt.

Where does this leave us? What does it mean for me?

This all feels.....heavy. And sad. Not only for myself or Mark, but for others because they are missing out on spending time with a great guy. They should feel sad about that. I feel sad for Mark because no one should have to feel the way he does, like they're a burden or it's too hard to be around them. I feel helpless because I have no idea what I can do about it.

If Mark's friends are indeed afraid of what might happen while hanging out with him, or are holding him at arm's length out of self-preservation (for fear of losing him), then I think that means I really am all he's got.

No comments:

Post a Comment