Tuesday, August 25, 2015

A Lesson For All Men. And Boys.

 Blackberries.  Cobbler, sauce over ice cream, by the handful.

 Pullet eggs.  And big girl eggs.

A project.  The ending was rather unexpected.  But a happy surprise.

Something feels amiss.

Duh.

Obviously many things feel amiss around these parts but there is this niggling feeling I have that I've been unable to pinpoint.  A feeling of fear almost.  Unsettled and mildly phobic.  A feeling of vulnerability to the most extreme level.

Once again, duh.

I think I figured it out though.  It's because of Bill.  Or rather, the lack of Bill now.  Had he not been the always-present, always-supportive, always-encouraging guy that he was, I suppose I wouldn't feel so bereft right now.  For the majority of my life (see http://juliekp71.blogspot.com/) I've had Bill's support and confidence as my foundation.  He never discouraged my ideas (except about redecorating or furniture rearranging).  He always offered authentic praise and encouragement.  I never, ever doubted his complete acceptance of me.  I knew he loved me unconditionally and would do anything to protect me.  He never missed an opportunity to tell me I was beautiful or a great mom or the best wife.  He put me first.  Always.

So fellas, here's my advice:  Be like Bill.  Treat your wives or girlfriends just like Bill treated me.  Trust me on this.  Girls dig guys who are devoted and full of adoration for them.  If you can't invoke these feelings willingly and with ease, then maybe you've got yourself the wrong partner!

So anyway,  it's no wonder I'm feeling bereft.  The only place I can feel comfortable now is in my home.  With my kids.  It's a bit compelling that I feel this way.  I used to like entertaining and socializing and being around people.  Bill always said that I would talk to anyone.  Not so much anymore.  It's not that I'm lacking confidence in myself, though it was much easier to feel confident when Bill was around to boost me up.  I just feel vulnerable and pretty defenseless.  Always on edge and waiting for people to critique me.  Am I grieving correctly?  Am I parenting correctly?  Am I living correctly?  Am I widowing correctly?  I suppose with time I'll move past those feelings and maybe not even care what other people think.  But for now, I feel too exposed and raw when I'm out of my element.

My single priority (and it really is the only one) is raising these kids and doing it the way Bill and I intended to from the beginning.  I've said it before and I'll declare it many more times I'm sure, but my world is very small.  Very, very small these days.  But I am comfortable here in my little world.  I can supervise and manage, nurture and teach, and encourage and love in this small space, bolstered by Bill's example.  There's not much elbowroom or space for guests to spread out in this realm but it's quiet and allows me to just breathe.

But it is alone.  And that's a word I don't think I'll ever get used to.


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