Loneliness

Last night, as we watched David Letterman, my husband said, "So, what's new on the board?" Usually I regale him with stories of happenings on the message board. When I discovered I was pregnant in January 2002, I nosed around a bit and landed on this board for women expecting babies in September of 2002. I've participated avidly ever since, through crazy debates and educational threads and laugh-out-loud hysteria and drive-by postings by trouble-makers and the mundane, everyday stuff.

Two weeks ago, I decided I'd had enough. That was the day I wrote this. Although I had a lot of laughs and sharpened my detective skills (I'm just warning you--don't lie to me unless you have a better memory than I do) and made some excellent friends, but I just got slapped once too many times by women who think pastor's wives ought to be vacant, spiritual, uncontroversial and sickly sweet all the time.

And just because of my marriage. Nothing else. Somehow my marriage to a pastor requires me to be perfect, though if I were, I would most definitely hear, "You think you're perfect, don't you!?" Nevermind that these same women are regular church-attenders with similar religious backgrounds to mine. At any rate, lest this turn into actual Gossip, I'll just leave it at that.

I had enough. Enough. I just shut the door without saying good-bye and crept away.

So last night. My husband says, "What's new on the board?" and I say, "I left it." I was on my side, facing away from him, and he said, "What?" And I said, "I left the board."

He said, "Why?" I said, "I just had enough."

We watched David Letterman in silence then and my heart was so solid and heavy that it pinned me to the bed. I felt like I'd swallowed an ever-expanding balloon that filled with hot breath I could not exhale. Tears began to slip from my eyes and pool on the side of my nose where my glasses formed a little dam.

I felt so lonely, so completely all alone, even lying next to my husband, just on the other side of the house from my sleeping children.

At last, his breathing deepened and I considered going into the bathroom and curling on the floor and crying until I died. But I didn't want to wake him. So, I gingerly reached for a tissue and his soft snoring stopped and he said, "Are you all right?" I said, "Yes," but he could hear the sadness, I guess, and so he reached over and hugged me--stiff and resistant and said, "I'm sorry about your board."

I said, "It just sucks to have no friends."

Even as I said it, I knew it to by untrue, but sometimes the feelings are more real than reality. He said, "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." And I said, "It's probably just hormonal." I considered telling him how lonely I felt, how alone, what a horrible wife I am and what an impatient mother and how truly, if I weren't here only Babygirl would be damaged forever--or maybe she wouldn't even remember me in a few months and then I thought how YoungestBoy would miss going on rides at the fair with me and so, I said nothing at all.

At last, he rolled back over and slept and I dabbed at my eyes and wiped my congested nose and felt utterly miserable and lonely.

How is it possible to feel so lonely and to long to be alone at the same time?

This morning, I woke with swollen eyes, no worse for the wear.