I have always been a single wife. I have never had a husband who wanted to be a husband. A father, a business partner, a life partner, but never a husband.
I am a wife. I have always wanted to be a wife. A helpmeet, a lover, a dream catcher as he wove his dreams into visions with his head on my chest. The lover of his soul. The believer of all good in him. The home designer and manager. The source of his peace.
In our culture, we often talk about fatherless children, but where is the conversation about husbandless wives? I am not discounting the children; I am just trying to expand the conversation.
I carry a lot of masculine energy because I have had to. I can shut down my emotions like a pro; in the past, I have been able to separate sex from love, commitment, and relationships. I have lived my life so emotionally detached because I have no option. The truth is all it did was leave me empty. I have poured through a sieve because no one has caught me. Not in the husband’s position anyway.
I possess the heart of an entrepreneur, and most men can’t handle the way my ADHD brain works. I am too much. I am too radical in my thinking, constantly pinging from one thing to another to bring order to the chaos of thoughts that go through my head. Men find the need to manage me, tolerate me at times, and push me away when my heart even peaks through because even that is too much. They love parts of me, but the whole of me is too overwhelming. My guy pals always tell me that I demand greatness because of how passionately I chase my healing, and most men want something easy.
I will admit it leaves me angry. I’m angry at the men who don’t value themselves enough to do the hard work. I’m enraged at the women who will settle for nothing when they deserve something. I’m mad at our society for perpetuating the cycle. So many of my friends are yelling, “Where are the men?” They are drunk or high or isolated in a feeble effort to protect themselves. Relationships take work on us, on the connection, and on communication. So many of us have decided it’s easier to seek comfort than commitment.
Surrendering my desire for a husband seems to be my next step. Fifty years in, I tolerate things I shouldn’t. I keep my mouth shut when I shouldn’t. I am learning to use my voice again after having it squashed for so long. My last relationship taught me what I want what I can and won’t tolerate. It is making it easier to walk away from the things that don’t value me. Even when I value them. Even if my heart wants to drown them, I know that the only person who loses is me. I am learning to love without it being reciprocated. I can value and respect without a relationship status. Especially if I see them going down a path I already know where it leads. Is it my desire? No. The only person I can control is myself.
This journey always leads me to the same place. Surrender, The River of Snot (I have never gotten to the next phase without crossing it), and then God shows up. I know the steps. I know what to do. I am just not sure why it takes me so long. Too much hope, too much loyalty, too much wifey. I saw a Reel on Instagram, and I will probably mess this up, so bear with me. But the text said something like I am a wife and want to build a home, a life, and a business with you. But sure, I will see you Saturday night. That’s how it feels.
Tables and chairs have four legs for stability. But I will stand here on my own two feet, like so many friends trying to navigate this world alone as a single wife.
