I slept twelve hours last night.
My husband was the first to notice that my ADHD moves in cycles sometimes. High periods of rampant energy (imagine a mouse running quite fast on a wheel) and other periods where I have low to no energy. During those periods I feel sad, insecure and seem to dwell on the negative while totally ignoring the things that are going right.
There are a lot of those actually
So I slept 12 hours last night. I put my head on my husbands lap while he was watching the Dallas Cowboy’s game and he put his big arm around me, caressed my hair and the next thing I knew, he was asking me if I wanted to get off the couch and go to bed. I was so content being “petted” lovingly by him that I had snoozed into a deep long sleep.
I’m not sure how long he held that snoring head in his lap, but bless him.
He is quite a remarkable human being. And I know this and think about it often (daily) in my head, and sometimes I tell Diane how wonderful he is (but she already knows).
Other times I have shared eagerly the laurels of the romantic interest in my life, and been horribly, horribly wrong. Painting a psycho as a Saint… (shudder). I keep the good stuff on the down-low sometimes because I don’t want to jinx it. Or be terribly wrong again.
But I won’t be. My husband is the real deal. The man who painstakingly read through all my “single girl” blog posts to understand what compelled me. To understand my family, my confusion and unhappiness, my anger. Behind that he saw a woman who was always hoping… she’d run into the right kind of partner to build a life with.
And that wasn’t easy to find. After all she is compulsive, energetic, sometimes exhausted, very very excited and sometimes bitterly oversensitive and reactive. A short fuse for bullies and belittlement of others. An independent woman. A stubborn and strong one, who refuses to stay down after a knock-out punch. A woman very capable of swinging back (albeit verbally). Resilient. Protective. Sarcastic.
It’s a combo that the average guy might not want. After all as my spouse, you cannot tell me what to do. Blame a controlling Italian father. Try to control me and you’ll get your ass kicked. It just is what it is, and what I am not… is submissive. Been there. Changed that.
My husband is a man that loves the challenge of a strong and independent woman. Even when it frustrates him. He is the kind of man that NEVER raises his voice to me… not once. Not even when I have gone apeshit over a misunderstanding or a trigger from the past has prompted an over reaction.
He stands there, strong and confident … and talks it through. He understands my triggers. He understands anxiety and what mine looks like (sometimes it manifests as frustration and anger when it’s really fear or insecurity). He gets my temper. He knows I work on it daily.
To my husband the mask I wear might as well be invisible. He sees me. He’s read the history. He’s heard the stories and helped me pull apart the “Why?” that always comes when I try to understand the motivations of people who have no kindness in their hearts. Selfish people. I struggle with that… I give. I help. Although sharing comes a little hard to me as a resigned bachelor of sorts. I believe… thou shalt not touch my cereal. If you eat the last bit of it… assume I will be pissed and there will be consequences.
Like me drinking your last cider. Just sayin’…
The man of my dreams lets me fall asleep on his lap and snore through a Cowboy’s game. He tickles me in the front seat of his truck mercilessly when I am being a sarcastic shit (shocking I know… I can be sarcastic). He knows my favorite foods and tries to find replacements for them here in Texas. He spends six hours on the lake in our boat and has the best time of his life.
The man of my dreams doesn’t care about the size of our house or material things. He cares about time with me. Making memories. Raising the children in a loving and strong family. He wants me to write the books that are bouncing in my head, and thinks of ways we might do on one income, to let me be that creative writer full time.
Not that I expect that. He thinks I am talented and like other people who care about me, he thinks I have some incredible scary screenplays inside of me.
Which I do. Which I suppose I should get to, now that I am starting the next chapter with the partner I always wanted. The one who makes scrambled eggs perfectly, covers me up at night (I kick off the blankets constantly and wake up freezing), is an amazing Father, doggy-daddy, business manager … son, brother, uncle… cousin. A real family person.
Like I used to be. Like I am becoming once more.
And I want to make everything happen yesterday… throw myself into everything I can possibly do to get us to the next stage; a house, some new furniture… feeling settled and established. Not because of what others will think. Because that’s what he deserves. And what I deserve too, by my summation.
I hugged him this morning on his way to work and thought about how handsome he is. His tall and strong frame, big shoulders and football width chest. My footballer turned Insurance Executive, marketing dude with an amazing sense of humor. My perfect gentleman that opens the doors for me always.
And makes me scrambled eggs on Sunday’s.
And I realized that the emotions of homesickness are quite normal. Who would I be if I wasn’t shaken up to my foundation by a new country, new culture and being far away from family and friends? No one of substance I think. I value roots. I kept planting roots which were tore up by the instability of my parents.
I’m planting roots again, far away from that dysfunction and influence. And truthfully if I lived any closer, perhaps the happy life I am building now would not be possible. Unhappy people have a way of trying to reach their tentacles into the happiness of others, creating discord.
God knew what he was doing. I woke up this morning with this sense that everything is as it should be. And rather than dwelling on what is “not perfect” (i.e., homesickness) an intelligent woman would dwell on the gifts and blessings in her life instead.
Like finding the man of my dreams and marrying him. Because some people go their whole lives and never really find their true love.
Mine was waiting for me in Texas. xoxo