Dear Anita,

I am glad I have the time and mental space this morning to read your post. You are right, it does take focus to read this.

Before I begin my reply, I want to say one thing. I was going to mention it in my previous post but I thought about waiting, as it didn’t seem to fit in. I thought about it as I posted— after I read your reply I realize that I was indeed onto something.

I told you about two weeks ago S came to visit.  My sister and I spent time with her. After she left my sister and I were talking alone for about an hour before we met with my husband. That was the evening the three of us had dinner together and he opened up to my sister about how bad his working conditions are. I mentioned this entire evening to you.  Anyway, a detail that I overlooked was the following. When my sister and I were alone we were talking about how my friend was head over heels over her fiancé, and it was nice to see her like this.  We continued the conversation and my sister mentioned something: she never hears me talking like this about my husband.

I remember feeling slightly uncomfortable when she mentioned this. I replied to her: well I guess we’ve been through so much that it’s hard for me to have those lighthearted loving feelings.

She looked at me again, and asked well do you love him? I never hear you say that.

I remember feeling uncomfortable again. And my response was well of course.  I don’t remember exactly what happened later, but I think she might’ve asked me some of the things I like about him.

Anita, This sounds like a side  thing to mention. But it is not. I am 34 years old and married for over two years now. And I feel uncomfortable speaking about the love for my husband, I feel uncomfortable being happy outwardly and being in love with my husband. This is exactly a version of what you are talking about. I continue to tell and relive my mother’s  story, living in the identity of: never being those other people who are blissfully unaware and happy. How dare I sink into my own marriage and find comfort in love with my husband!? How dare I be comfortable and in love!?

And then when my sister and I ended up having dinner with my husband and I was the observer, observing him talking openly with my sister – Felt great admiration and respect for him. I thought back to my sisters question from prior, and I comforted myself in knowing that I am not great at explaining how I love my husband. That wasn’t the point though. That evening is not when I truly realized the issue, I realize it now.

I am afraid to be happy. I don’t know how to be.

It’s not about not knowing how to relax, it is truly not knowing how to be happy – Which is a great deal more severe.

I remember when I felt that discomfort when my sister asked me the question, it was my own sister. It wasn’t a stranger with whom I would feel uncomfortable with. It was even my own sister that I felt uncomfortable with because it felt odd to be overly happy out loud. It had nothing to do with her. I’m sure deep down inside, I felt disloyal to my mother. It felt disloyal to be blissfully Happy.  Or happy at all!

I usually think of myself as someone who does not get nervous or uncomfortable easily. I am involved in very many situations almost on a daily basis in which I feel quite comfortable. But how ironic, something so simple as asking if I love my husband made me feel physically uneasy. How simple yet difficult.

Years ago I would have taken this to mean that perhaps I don’t truly love my husband. I would have gone into a tailspin- and wondered about my feelings. I know now this is for sure not true, and it was just me getting into my head in the past. In fact -the point of the story is not even about my husband himself, it was the fact that I could not feel comfortable being vocal about something that is a primitive emotion, love.

If you asked me how my day was, I could talk to you for 60 minutes. If you ask me about the problem of X versus Y I could talk to you for 120 minutes. If you asked me about my relationship with a certain friend I could go on and on.

But life first and foremost is about love and peace. These are foreign things for me to talk about, I guess I truly have never given that much thought in my life – Always replaying my mother story never sitting down and thinking what is it that I really love, what brings me peace? NEver having to voice to speak up about this, never knowing I could have that voice at all.

This is the start of my reply, your post was of course very detailed and pivotal, and it will take some time to sink again. I started off with this anecdote. You may reply if you would like, and then I will continue.

• This reply was modified 5 years, 2 months ago by Cali Chica.