Friday, March 16, 2012

Breaking Apart

It is so easy, so scarily easy in fact.

You get stuck somewhere. You go at it again and again, you just can not get over it, but neither of you gives in either. It just happens.

I don't want to continue complaining. I do not want to push him away at all. But I am tired of this "women are like that, we don't understand" talk. What is not to understand? To say a few nice things, to reassure, to show a bit more care; why are these so hard? Why is it so much easier to complain of women complaining rather than just being a bit more "loving"?

Now I am at a loss because before he understood when I told him. And he became a bit more closer to me and everything felt fine afterwards. Since I came back it feels like he does not care, or does not want to work on it. Maybe he is too stressed at work so all his life effort is spent there or I am too much work myself, since I am unhappy about every single thing since I came back and have confronted him too many times; or or or "we" has become an old and uninteresting issue which nobody wants to work on.

What would I say if I went to a psychologist?
I feel insecure ever since I came back. I came back to be with the people that I love. And it feels like he does not need me, or my love. And since I do not feel needed at work either, I find everything uninteresting. I have this growing feeling inside that I do not have a place, a space. I am not useful to anyone.

It was not like this before. He was not like this. Even in US he was not like this. I would rather that he exploded and blamed me for leaving him a year. I would rather he told me that he was lonely and it hurt and he had to devise ways to come over that. Now instead he just doesn't say anything much. After all, why should he? There is only one function he requires of me. Except that he can get everything else outside. I am not a particularly fun companion either, so why choose me to spend time with? For him clearly I just complain and complain, that is all.

As for me, I feel tired without knowing why. I do not feel like doing anything. What happened to the playful me? Playful me is lost somewhere I think. Don't know where....