They're just feelings afterall.

I had difficulty sleeping last night. I woke up about three and layed there trying to get back to sleep. I was wishing I was snuggled up with em and eduardo. It's something I'm not that used to. I was married for 21 years and I spent the last 5 years of that marraige spending half of each week away from my husband. The kids were almost always with me. I didn't miss being with him. He would call every day that I was gone and tell me that he missed me. I would always tell him the same cause I thought if I actually told him the truth, I would hurt him.

This was probably true but very dishonest. I thought I was responsible for everyone's feelings around me. This should have been a clear sign of trouble in our marraige and not buying into the cover-up, being straight up, might have opened some troubling doors but might have allowed us to work through some places that needed attention.

I stuffed feelings myself about some serious stuff as a kid so that my parents and everyone around me would see me as perfect. I had a boyfriend in high school and at 16 became pregnant. I had an abortion but could never tell anyone. I even drove myself to the appointment, cried into the huge breasts of the nurse that craddled my head, giving me comfort at the end of the procedure, had to stop the car to throw up on the way home and then return and pretend that everything was normal.

Later, when I tried to break up with this guy, he told me if I did, he would tell everyone including my parents about the abortion. I couldn't have that, so I stayed. I got so disgusted with him one night that I tried even harder to break it off. He walked away saying he was going to tell them right that minute. I got so full of rage and fear that I grabbed him by the shoulder, spun him around, and landed a right cross to his nose. It broke. I tended to him and took him to the doctor the next day and got to see him get his nose straightened. Still I stayed.

Months later I decided that it wasn't worth the lie to stay with him. I told him we were through and that I didn't care if he told. I ended up getting kicked and raped. That ended it though and the weird thing is that he never did tell. He died a few years later in a car accident, running from the police.

I processed these feeling really hard at age 42 and ended up going to my parents and telling them what happened. It seemed important to let this huge fear go even though there wasn't a big threat of it ever being revealed. They were very supportive and said they couldn't figure out why I hadn't shared it before. I knew why.

Anyway, I try not to operate this way anymore. If there is something bugging me, even if it feels like a burden to share with those I love, even if the feelings don't lead to resolution, I try my best to be honest. It's like living a whole life and not a half one under layers of protective covering.

I can tell em that I want more time with her even if it seems inconvenient. I know she'll do her best to find that time. I do the same for her also. It's the same since adding eduardo into the complete mix. We share these things and it works out well for the most part. I'm still getting used to being vulnerable but it gets easier with each place that I am emotionally difficult. As em says no one is "running away with their hair on fire." She'll also admit that there are times when that is exactly what she feels like doing. I don't take it personally.

This thing we are trying to do is hard and the road is full of potholes but some of the best places are off the beaten track and man, are we out there!