I keep thinking of how I’ve screwed up my life. I’d say I’m having a midlife crisis, but people who have those have actually done something with their lives when I can’t think of anything. I do not have children, I don’t really have a career unless you count waiting tables, and I don’t write as much as I could because I can’t focus. I have a billion unfinished stories in my head because I have a hard time finishing what I start.
I feel like I totally missed my calling. I remember a good friend of mine felt similarly but went back to school for nursing. I don’t know how she did it, but I’ve asked myself if I would do the same thing and go back for psychology if given the chance. Today I came to the realization that I don’t know that going back to school would help when what I *really* want to do is go back to that time of my life. Back when I felt normal, excited.
I’d love to have dated a guy like C in college, my workplace crush from several years ago. He’s a lot younger than I am but I felt so drawn to him that it was almost as though we would have been a couple had we met when we were in the same stage in our lives. I’m told he liked me too.
Now, I want to make it abundantly clear that nothing happened between us, and nothing was ever going to. Truth be told, I wouldn’t have wanted it to. He was a lot like my husband, so in a sense maybe it was a way to have been with my husband a lot earlier. I think a part of that was how, around the time C was working there, I worked an obscene amount of hours and didn’t spend much time with my husband. I had more and better conversations with coworkers because most people aren’t good conversationalists when they’re asleep and that’s the state I saw him in the most.
A lot of the frustration I have is about sex, which is probably why so many of the stories I make up involve it. Oddly enough, the partners I have in my head all look like him-who I easily could have loved-and did. That’s not to say I want to sleep with him, just that my mind holds certain images and puts them wherever it wants to. He is a good bit like my husband, except for some reason I don’t get the butterflies with my husband. Not always, anyway. He loves me more than anything and I think I have the type of marriage my parents had-where they were each other’s best friends. That’s what I always wanted, and that’s what I have. But I still think about sex all the time.
Now, about that. Sometimes I think that the issue is that I’m not as physically attracted to my husband as to other people. Meaning, I thought that having an issue with having sex *meant* I wasn’t as attracted. I’m just a lot more, um, demonstrative in my mind than in real life. I’ve had boyfriends I had a lot of passion with, but looking back I’m not sure I’d still have that today. I was a lot younger and more fit, just like I am in my stories. But I also wasn’t on five million meds (okay, not that many, but a lot) that have side effects in that area. And no, not taking them is not an option.
You hear so many things about what a healthy marriage looks like in that way. I had a lot of anticipation when I got married because then I could *finally* share that aspect of myself, even though I don’t know what that would mean. I thought the sexual side effects of the medication would go away now that I didn’t have that psychological “block”.
I’d thought I’d learn more. I have no idea how to do anything because most of my experience before was allowing things to be done to me. The time when most couples would be finding their way was cut short by an F-150.
You know what? It’s probably not about C or my husband or anyone else-it’s probably the fact that having a crush and knowing that the person crushed on me too makes me feel attractive again. I also realized that all those magazine articles about what a relationship “should” be like are not talking about people who spent years not being able to do much because they got in a wreck. They’re not talking about people and/or their spouses who have other health problems that affect every aspect of their lives. They’re talking about…well, not me. I’m trying to remind myself that my life is my life-meaning, I’m not everyone else, my husband isn’t everybody else’s husband, my friends aren’t everyone else’s friends. It doesn’t matter what everyone else has because I’m not them and they’re not me. Plus the grass might not actually be greener. Like I said, my husband is my best friend and I wouldn’t give him up for anything.
I know I can’t go back but until now I’ve never said these things out loud…it’s amazing how much that helps. Now if I can only finish this post…