We had a major fight last night. Huge. Ugly.
Things were said, and as we all know, once something's said you can't unsay it. It just hangs there, shadowing everything else that's said after it, looming like some huge black thunderhead that threatens torrential rain.
It made good on it's threat, but there wasn't any rain. There were tears instead. My tears. Tears that burned my eyes and nose as they rained down my face and dripped onto the collar of my shirt.
I went and sat in the closet in the dark for a while. He doesn't understand why I do that, and I don't want to tell him the real reason why. I just tell him it's dark and I feel safe and able to be calm in there and he's ok with that. As long as he's ok with that, I'm ok with it. If there ever comes a day when I have to tell him the real reason, I won't be going and sitting in that closet anymore. So, I'll keep my secret for a while and hope that a day will come when I won't want or feel the need to sit in the closet.
We have very little in common anymore. The only common interest we have are our children, or at least it feels that way. He doesn't have any interest in my world, and I, whilst I HAVE to be a part of his professional life, have no interest in the things he likes. I've tried, I really have. I've tried for 10 years to be what he wants in the hope that he'll be more affectionate and demonstrative. I know that some of you are reading this and are saying to yourselves 'but look at the comments he left for you, and the time he sent you his shirt and bought you flowers'. I want you to know that I see those things too, but I know something that you don't: they were prompted. By me. Almost everything he does for me is prompted by me.
He's not a bad guy, and I don't want to villify him. He's just not like me, and I am not like him anymore. I am affectionate and playful and he's non-tactile and undemonstrative. Our romantic life has been dead for more years than I care to remember, and despite my attempts to revive it, it's remained flat-lined and cold.
I do love him, though. And that's what brings me to the title of this article: will love be enough? Will it be enough to sustain us until we can find some new common ground? Will it be enough of a salve to sooth all the wounds that our words have made? Will it be enough to revive our cold and dead passion for each other?
Will love be enough to salvage a functional, happy marriage out of the wreck of a relationship I'm living in?
I don't know.