I've never been a hermit–until now. My husband retired in January–bad timing. I'm sturggling to pay the bills (he doesn't do that sort of stuff). I'm a working church musician–organist/choir director. It's the perfect retirement job–I'm retired from the state university system–piddling pension. I then worked as a tax preparer, but it became too taxing (pun intended). 50-60 hours a week in season. Was also caring for a mother in a nearby facility (she had advancing dementia). Have a brother (with a criminal history that included forging Mom's checks and relieving her of more than 12K in one year alone).
I'm a heavy smoker. Yesterday, my husband quit. Period. Now I'm feeling guilty as sin for not being able to quit too. The last time this happened, I did quit. It was working well, but HIS mother, who was completely dependent on me for transportation to doctors, beauty shop, vet with her poodle, and other errands) refused to stop smoking in my car. She was most unpleasant every time I asked her to wait until we got to the destination. Then she went ahead and lit up. I was under a bunch of pressure from "the pastor from hell," and getting ready for a test in a music class I was taking. The old bat pushed all my buttons, and I went outside the medical building and bought a cig from someone and smoked it. I called my husband and told him he'd better come get his mother, but he was on a service call 40 miles away.
This business about smoking is just part of the problem. The REAL problem is that about seven years ago my husband totally lost interest in sex. I though for a while he had something on the side. Turns out his libido simply took a powder.
Part of me thinks it's my fault–I'm not bad looking, but I'm no young babe! As much as I've asked him to consult a doctor–and he has–they all act as if this is not a big problem–that my feelings are irrelevant.
Husband is the sweetest guy in the world, but now we're housemates and financial partners. Tried counselling–thereapist had us playing games of "date night (hold hands like teenagers) and see where it leads." Hubby, complacent guy that he is said "sure." I said "ok," but what I meant was "what a crock!"
Lonely still. Hubby's asleep. Wish I could manage to sleep like he does. I'm at least working somewhat. Was pounding away at an anthem accompaniment, but took a laundry break (dryer was buzzing). When I got back upstairs his bedroom door was closed. We have separate rooms–have had for a long time–maybe four or five years. When I slept in his room, I always ended up on the couch. He likes that stupid mattress. It's about as comfortable as the mortuary slab up at the funeral home. On a scale of 1 to 10 (1 being the hardwood floor) its a 2.
I feel better today than yesterday. Yesterday I was suicidal. Today I'm just think about the logistics of leaving him. I really hate myself for having these feelings.
We have dogs–I don't even feel any tenderness towards them right now. Been shutting down my affective domain.