Cold feet

As I laid down to take a nap yesterday afternoon, I moved my cold feet to the corner of the bed where the sun was shining through the open patio door.  The warmth was inviting and comforting as my feet peaked out from underneath the flannel quilt I was curled up under.

But then my mind reflected back on all the times I cuddled with my ex-husband before we fell asleep and the way he would cringe if my perpetually cold feet even accidentally touched his skin.  I remember feeling guilty as over the years our nightly cuddle time felt more and more like an obligation to me.  

As a wife, I thought I should want to cuddle with him.  But in hindsight, I see that it was just one more example of the one-way nature of our relationship.  He didn't care what I needed.  He didn't care about my cold feet.  He didn't care if I was comfortable. It was just about meeting his needs for comfort.  No wonder it felt like an obligation.

As I lay on the bed yesterday afternoon with the sun warming my feet, I then wondered why nothing ever reminded me of good memories.  Do I have good memories with him?  I have good memories of trips and events over the years where he either wasn't present or I disconnected him from the memory because of how much I disassociated.  

But do I have any good memories with him?  It seems that every time I think I have a good memory with him, I realize it was a fantasy version of the memory I was holding onto, not the reality of it.  And when that fantasy version disintegrates, the memory isn’t so pleasant anymore.  Or it was me making the moment with very little participation from him.