Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Two Weeks is Too Long

I'm a very independent person, always have been, but I learned something about myself last week that surprised me more than I realized.  The Man was on a business trip for two weeks and just got home on Saturday.  The first week was a breeze, but the second week was just plain miserable.  He was home for a few short hours on the weekend in between, mostly so I could do laundry for him.  As soon as he popped in, he popped right back out, and it was almost like he was never home at all.

It's not that I like having someone else in the apartment at night--I do.  And it's not that I love having him to bounce ideas off of or having someone else to cook for or someone I love physically close--all of those are great things.  I missed the myself-outside-of-myself.

I know that doesn't make any sense, but I'll try to explain.  When The Man and I are home together, we're usually engaged in our own little worlds.  He plays video games and I watch TV or quilt or cook.  If you were to come over tonight, chances are we'll be doing those things.  But sometimes I will encounter a crazy thought--it happens--or a situation arises where I need his input.  It's not so much that I want his opinion as much as that I want him to reaffirm my decision.

The Man is sort of an extension of me.  He's the voice in my head that I can't always hear or sense.  He's a grounding force, a reassuring glance (or slightly worried expression), a second chance.  He keeps me sane.

And when he was gone for two weeks, well, I really missed him.  I missed part of me.

1 comment:

Jules said...

I can totally understand what you mean, and relate. Hang in there!