I've mentioned many times on social media that I often cry myself to sleep. That's true- I'd say 90% of the time. (The other 10% is when I drink myself to sleep, or when I'm so tired I'm asleep before my head hits the pillow.)
When people ask me about it, I usually just say "I cry about all I lost," which is true, if vague.
Last night (Weds, Aug 7) I was very tired, so I retired relatively early. Yeah, I'm old. I read until the melatonin started kicking in, closed the book, and turned out the light. Without thinking, I rolled over onto my side, and pulled a pillow to me.
You see, since I was in junior high, I've used two pillows. I remember thinking that TWO pillows- that was the pinnacle of luxury. My room was on the third floor of the house, where there was no heat in winter (the house was heated by a wood burning stove downstairs, so the first floor was toasty; the second floor was slightly chilly; and the third floor was freezing) and the only cooling in the summer was a small fan and windows. It was what it was- I was just glad to have my own room. And... I had two pillows, so I was great!
After dating a year, and being engaged a year, I married Wife in 1993. Every couple who sleeps in the same bed, they choose sides. She slept to my left, with my right side facing off the bed. Wife also had two pillows (and she was very possessive of them, so almost nightly I'd steal them.) I would wrap my arms around her, spooning, and we'd both quickly fall asleep. I would drift off to the sound of her breathing. J'entend ton coeur.
The end of this month marks six years since I was thrown out of MIL's house. I remember that day like it just happened. I remember my daughter's tears. I remember holding Wife as she cried with me in the driveway before I left with the last load. (Most of everything went into storage.).
I had dinner with the people who helped me move. Then, I went back to my new home, where I lived at the charity of a dear friend. I brought my pillows with me. I collapsed into bed, and cried for years.
The loneliness. The rejection. The unfamiliar smell of an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. My Wife and daughter were miles away. I found out later that Wife had daughter sleep in our bed that night, as she didn't want to sleep alone.
You see, like me, she had problems falling asleep alone. Whenever I was traveling for my job with Games Workshop, both of us had major insomnia. I remember many nights while in the U.K. That I couldn't sleep a wink. One week, I didn't sleep more than an hour total.
Codependent? I guess.
So last night, I pulled my pillow to me and started crying. Why? Same as always.
After nearly six years, I still miss being curled up next to Wife. The smell of her hair. Softness of her skin.
Yes, I miss my daughter, whose childhood I've missed. I miss my dearest friend, Lisa. But when I climb into bed, instead of my bride of 26 years...
...All I have is a pillow.
When people ask me about it, I usually just say "I cry about all I lost," which is true, if vague.
Last night (Weds, Aug 7) I was very tired, so I retired relatively early. Yeah, I'm old. I read until the melatonin started kicking in, closed the book, and turned out the light. Without thinking, I rolled over onto my side, and pulled a pillow to me.
My Bed, today. See Mum, I make it sometimes!
You see, since I was in junior high, I've used two pillows. I remember thinking that TWO pillows- that was the pinnacle of luxury. My room was on the third floor of the house, where there was no heat in winter (the house was heated by a wood burning stove downstairs, so the first floor was toasty; the second floor was slightly chilly; and the third floor was freezing) and the only cooling in the summer was a small fan and windows. It was what it was- I was just glad to have my own room. And... I had two pillows, so I was great!
After dating a year, and being engaged a year, I married Wife in 1993. Every couple who sleeps in the same bed, they choose sides. She slept to my left, with my right side facing off the bed. Wife also had two pillows (and she was very possessive of them, so almost nightly I'd steal them.) I would wrap my arms around her, spooning, and we'd both quickly fall asleep. I would drift off to the sound of her breathing. J'entend ton coeur.
The end of this month marks six years since I was thrown out of MIL's house. I remember that day like it just happened. I remember my daughter's tears. I remember holding Wife as she cried with me in the driveway before I left with the last load. (Most of everything went into storage.).
August 2019
I had dinner with the people who helped me move. Then, I went back to my new home, where I lived at the charity of a dear friend. I brought my pillows with me. I collapsed into bed, and cried for years.
The loneliness. The rejection. The unfamiliar smell of an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. My Wife and daughter were miles away. I found out later that Wife had daughter sleep in our bed that night, as she didn't want to sleep alone.
You see, like me, she had problems falling asleep alone. Whenever I was traveling for my job with Games Workshop, both of us had major insomnia. I remember many nights while in the U.K. That I couldn't sleep a wink. One week, I didn't sleep more than an hour total.
Codependent? I guess.
So last night, I pulled my pillow to me and started crying. Why? Same as always.
After nearly six years, I still miss being curled up next to Wife. The smell of her hair. Softness of her skin.
Yes, I miss my daughter, whose childhood I've missed. I miss my dearest friend, Lisa. But when I climb into bed, instead of my bride of 26 years...
...All I have is a pillow.
No comments:
Post a Comment