Under our Bridge

“I don’t ever want to feel like I did that day. Take me to the place I love, take me all the way.”

I drive around alone, it’s part of my job. I write alone. Solitude doesn’t provide comfort. Instead, it creates longing. Longing for nights alone with my mate, my husband. But, “sometimes I feel like I don’t have a partner.” I have a partner in parenthood. He changes diapers, he helps with meals and bath times. If I say “I’m about to lose my shit,” he steps in. Still, there is a longing.

I don’t want to feel alone anymore.

“Take me to the place I love.” Take me dancing. Take me out, I want to be surrounded by other adults. My soul is screaming to strap on ridiculously overpriced high heeled footwear. Shoes I can’t even walk in, but damn… I want to strut around in them, out on the town. I want to hear conversations where I’m not listening to my husband while interpreting toddler talk within the same two minutes. I want to raise glasses and drink wine till my lips and teeth are stained red. I want to roar with drunken laughter. This is our night off and we are still in love. I want to hope this will one day become a truth, our reality.

I don’t want to feel alone anymore.

I can’t remember the last time I wore a dress. Most days, I can’t remember the last time I shaved my legs. I do remember the date today because Christmas was last week. It was a holiday, so I shaved those prickly beasts. My perfume bottles are covered in two inches of dust. We have one bathroom in our home, this means privacy has been overtaken by functionality. Every day I flush romance down our commode.

I don’t want to feel alone anymore.

Before I became pregnant, my husband and I took a long weekend to Tennessee. We stayed in this cabin that overlooked the Smoky Mountains. There was a hot tub on the wraparound wooden deck, a pool table, and a whirlpool bathtub which could fit eight people. I don’t know why you would want to bathe with eight other people, but in this little cabin the opportunity existed. Often, in the quiet stillness of too many current nights I wonder ‘Will I ever feel that way again?

I don’t want to feel alone anymore.

Last January I almost felt THAT way again; the feeling of love, passion, of being wanted, and desired. The feeling that I mattered to a man, to the man I married.

The feeling came because we went away on a two night trip, by ourselves. It was complete uninterrupted adult time.  We ordered room service and slept till noon. I wore leather high heeled over the knee boots in the snow. I was held to ensure I wouldn’t fall. I was held. There in a brief fleeting moment I felt a glimpse of how we were, how we used to be. I also felt the nagging motherhood ringing in my ears, “I hope the baby is okay.” He was fine. It’s me who wasn’t fine. I’m not fine. I live with the constant worry. I harbor one constant need.

I don’t want to feel alone anymore.

The biggest fact replaying over and over again in my mind is birth. Each birth changes so many lives. You come into this world like a balloon startling a packed room with a loud burst. Strangers in white uniforms and important doctors await your arrival. They grab you and make sure you’re okay. Everyone can’t wait to hold you. And with age, the newness wears off. People stop standing around eagerly awaiting your arrival. Even less people want to hold you. You grow past relationships, and you grow into loneliness.

I don’t want to feel alone anymore.

As a Mama, I am needed, someone depends on me. Some days though, bedtime can’t come fast enough. Then my child is asleep, and I’m alone again. A laptop is my communication. It is where I speak. Technology, which I loathe, is my relationship status.

In my heart, I know of other days to come. The one where the Terrific Toddler becomes a man. He will be invested in his own mate. He may have a family of his own. And we are alone again, my husband and me.

I will be alone. I know I don’t want to feel alone anymore.

For now, at my most loneliness, I continue to scream Red Hot Chili Peppers’ “Under the Bridge” till my throat becomes raw and tears don’t fall anymore.

I don’t want to feel alone anymore.

 

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14 Comments on "Under our Bridge"

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Charli Mills
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Had to stop back by and tell you that cards have enlivened the marriage! Ha! 😀

Jenny
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This is really powerful. I have felt the same way, especially when my daughter was under two. It was stifling how much my life had changed and how much I wanted it to be “normal” sometimes. Thanks for sharing this with us. I hope that all of us here can help make you feel a little more connected and a little less lonely.

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