Love = Our Own Rooms

When my mother passed away a liitle over a year ago, I had a breakdown.  Part may have been due to overuse of my medication, part may have been due to the idea that my husband had not long before brought up the idea of having his own room.  I had never been raised that way and the thought of such a thing brought to my mind the idea that he didn’t love me and thoughts and feelings of abandonment came cerashing in.    In my mind, if your husband did not want to sleep in the same room with you, something is seriously wrong with your mariage.

Since then, I have talked to my Therapist, I have talked to my friends, I have read up on the idea on the internet and I talked to my husbands mother.

Times have changed so much since I was young.  I gave in to letting him have his own bed.  It’s been fantastic having my own bed with the animals.  And, he loves his own bed.  I don’t have to have the t.v. on all night.  I don’t have to hear him gas when I don’t want to.  He doesn’t have to worry about me waking him up with nightmares or sitting up in bed or whatever weird things I do.  I don’t jump every time the bed moves when he rolls over.  (He isn’t a big man.  I don’t even know what’s up with that.)  He doesn’t need to hear me get up 12.000 times or however many to use the restroom.  It’s a Win-Win.  I didn’t think I would enjoy it so much.  It took a while to stop my mind from reverting back to what I’d been taught and to push Satan away and to convince myself that room location has nothing to do with love.

I’m ready to take it further.  I am ready for our own rooms!  It’s what he’s wanted.  I can do this.  I am gettting excited this time.  My Coke Collection is being moved to my room.  I can paint it whatever color I want.  Closets are being re-arranged.  His dresser and clothes are being moved to his room.  We are still husband and wife.  We still love each other and he loves me even more because he will have his own room.  Most men would love to have their own rooms.



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