In the Absence of Affection...

..there is a certain numbness, an anesthetic of the heart that allows you to go on functioning as if you were whole. As if the spouse that you have is everything you need, as if the children you birthed were the sunshine and light they are supposed to be, and as if you weren't dying inside.

Then there are times when that anesthetic wears off, and you're left with the aching, empty reality that nobody in your real life really loves you in the way you need.

A husband and family are no guarantee that there will be affection or love. Husband comes home, eats supper, and goes to bed. A kiss before bed, customary, expected, and lacking real warmth. No holding as we sleep, no snuggles, and nothing resembling intimacy or sex.

We make plans for the economic stimulus money that's coming. We pay bills, we discuss getting a small pool for the back yard so I can teach the kids to swim. All on the surface, all mundane.

There's no yelling, no arguing. We just ignore the elephant in the bedroom. The one takes up all the space in the bed. The elephant created by our very different sexual needs and expectations.

I don't know what he needs anymore. Obviously, it's not me.

I need the warmth and scent of male skin against mine, the touches, caresses and contact that make me feel real. Feel loved. Feel desired. I need the passion that makes a wobbly kitchen table seem like the perfect place for sex. I need the fire that makes me feel alive...instead of this awful deadness.

Those zombies in my dreams? I think they are what is happening to me, little by little. They say to me "accept the inevitable death of your heart, your soul, compassion, affection, and the ability to give a shit about anything or anyone".