Mad About Him

Old Mad About You reruns light up the bedroom as I lay in bed next to my husband. We laugh like teenagers at the married life jokes that are so much funnier now that we're adults and married. He randomly leans over and kisses my cheek and tell me he loves me, and I respond by laying my head on his chest. He rubs my back contentedly, not needing to hear the words reciprocated. He knows I love him; I just have a hard time saying it. Why waste time with words when I can cook for him and fold his laundry and buy him neat things I see that remind me of him?

I have always felt that love is an action more than a word or an idea. Anyone can say they love someone, but showing someone that you love them is so much more effective! At least, that's what I tell myself because admitting the truth feels awkward and weird. The truth is that I have a hard time with the word because I allowed myself to become convinced that I was unlovable. I allowed other people to convince me that I am not worthy of love and I would never be worthy of love and no one would ever want what I have to give.

That's why I don't say it. I don't want to scare people away from me. I try to prove my love and my worth to my family by buying them gifts and doing things for them. If I can just do enough, just give enough, then they will need me and therefore love me. But I don't talk about it. I don't say it and I don't know how to react when my family says it to me. My husband still makes fun of me because of how I reacted the first time he told me that he loved me. My exact words were, "Don't make it weird." It has become a running joke in the home.

My husband is very understanding and patient with me. He is such an affectionate man. He loves to compliment me, hold me, tell me he loves me. He makes me feel loved, but I still don't take the walls down. I stay guarded. I don't let him in. He knows I had a rough childhood, so he doesn't prod. He doesn't get offended. He just loves me for me. I wish I could be more like him. More for him. I want to be open and affectionate without the associated credit card debt, even though I have gone weeks at a time without bringing home gifts and he still loves me. I want to undress in front of him without the crippling insecurities that make me want to hide so he never sees my imperfections, even though he has seen them all many times and still loves me. I want to be able to tell him that I love him without having to prove it to him by doing all the housework, even though I have fed the family drive through and gone to bed with a dirty kitchen too many times to count and he still loves me. I want to be able to tell him things about me and my past that are painful and uncomfortable, even though he knows a few things, has heard a few stories, and he still loves me anyways. I want to be able to hear someone tell me they love me without reacting by changing the subject and awkwardly making dumb jokes, even though he just laughs it off and loves me anyways.

As I lay there with my head on his chest and his hand on my back, I make a decision. I decide to change. Right now. As of this moment. No "resolution" that's going to be forgotten in a few weeks. No excuses. There will be baby steps, but there will be steps. As of now, I am going to accept love and I'm going to offer just love, not bargaining. No more trying to buy love with gifts and chores. I decide that I am enough.

I turn my head to face my husband, look him in the eyes, and tell him I love him. He smiles and leans down and gives me a soft kiss. I look back towards the show I haven't been watching. As we listen to the canned laughter I tell my husband that I love him again, then ask if I ever told him about the time in the 6th grade I was sent to the state mathlete competition. It's a happy story, but a personal story nonetheless. A baby step. The first day of the rest of our lives. A fresh start.