Author's Notes;
This is the third and final story in the Mid-life in Crisis series. Again, due to time constraints, my wife is the only editor for this story. If there are mistakes, I take full responsibility for them. Please remember this is a copywrited work of fiction and all legal disclaimers apply. I hope you enjoy the story.
My first ever Blog entry:
Hello, my name was Joyce Wolford. I really don't know how to do one of these blog things, but my daughter and therapist tell me it will be good to write this down. Two years and six months ago, I would have never thought I would have that much to write about. So much has changed it is hard to know where to start.
I was raised in a good Christian home by loving parents. I did all the things people did back then, before the internet, cell phones, and all this modern technology. We went out and looked at the stars, rode our bikes in the fields, went to movies in safe groups, and planned our weddings as a pack of giggling girls.
I met Richard Wolford at a church function my parents insisted I go to. I was impressed with how focused he was. While most boys were running around and getting into trouble, he knew he was going to Seminary and becoming an Ordained Minister. He always treated me with a distant if cordial respect.
It was at my mother's insistent prompting, that I started dating him. I mean he was a mother's dream. He was a nice, clean cut, polite and respectable young man, when those things were not in fashion. He never used bad language in their presence and never tried to take any liberties while we were out on our dates. It was six months before he would even be seen holding my hand in public. Kissing and other activities were only things you only did in private. He was the perfect date, if a bit boring for my freer spirited self.
The only one who noticed the subtle changes in me was my best friend Bernice Mott. I call her Bernie. We would talk about everything. She was the first one I told when Richard asked me to be his wife. She was the first one I told I was pregnant. She was the first one to know almost everything about me.
Yes, I was a virgin bride. No, I didn't have a problem waiting for him to finish school. If I really think about it, being engaged to Richard gave me a reason to avoid other men. While I was in school, it gave me a sense of freedom. I had my thin platinum ring that would back off any guy who started to bug me. My mother was extremely excited about my wedding. It was the one she always wanted but couldn't afford.
Everything went as planned. My parents couldn't have been happier. They were able to get me married off before I could be tempted in the sexual revolution that was going on at the time. Those were conversations I always hated.
I got pregnant soon after my nuptials. I honestly have to say, I loved being a mother. I doted on my children. Also while I was pregnant, I didn't have to worry about having sex with my Richard. He accomplished his goal, and didn't want to risk hurting the baby.
Sex with Richard was all about him getting me pregnant and keeping God's commandment of not denying your mate physically. That meant that twice a month, in the dark, if I wanted it or not. He would climb into the missionary position, shove himself into me, and grunt until he was done. Other than getting pregnant with my three children, I received no satisfaction from it what so ever.
As he worked through the ranks while becoming a senior Minister, I had to take on more responsibility in the church. At first it was leading the nursery. Then came the Sunday school for women. Next was marriage counseling or single women's groups, to prepare them for a God centered marriage. I had my own money, because I was employed by the church. My money was to keep the house maintained.
Richard had his own account of course. He would give me an allowance from his money to make sure I never got behind in the bills. Other than that, I have no idea what he did with his salary. According to him, it was none of my concern.
This was the picture of my happy marriage. Again, looking back on it, it wasn't so happy. At one time I did feel content, but as the kids grew up and started having their own lives, I was no longer even that. Complacent would be a better word.
Please don't misunderstand. My husband was never overtly abusive. He never hit me or yelled belittling things at me. At best, most days I was treated with cold indifference, as he led his congregation down God's path. In all outward appearances, I was the perfect Minister's wife. I had suppressed the happy go lucky girl, Joy Hampton so far, I didn't think she existed any longer. I suppressed the fact that I always was more comfortable around women. That I never liked sex with my husband, and that I had an opinion of my own.
Bernie was my only friend who didn't know me as the uptight entity Joyce Wolford, I had become. If I am to be truly honest in this blog thing. I have to admit, the only time I felt complete, was when the two of us girls, were doing things together. She was my rock. She was the one who kept me sane when the kids were sick and whining. If I couldn't do something, it was Bernie who seamlessly stepped into my place and made everything right again.
So, what happened two years ago that changed things? Well actually it was a bit farther back than that. Over the previous summer, we had let our daughter, Elspeth; go to an internship camp. This was so she could find her vocation. It was the first time Joy Hampton showed her face in over twenty years.
Joy put her foot down and told my husband that I would pay for her trip. That she needed to see some of the real world, before she was forced to settle down. He was putting pressure on the boy that had been dating her, to propose. I honestly didn't see any attraction between the two, but Richard was sure that David was a good match.
Richard read me chapter and verse about the dangers of the world outside his church and that she would be pulled into vile temptation. Richard believes in the freedom of choice, as long as you chose what he wants you to. Any other options are ungodly, in his opinion
For the first time in longer than I could remember, my daughter was happy with me. We talked and I felt like we had repaired the bond that had been missing since she entered her teenager years. I was so happy that my baby girl wanted to talk to me again. Joy started slipping out more and more. Then she left.
I felt like someone came and carved a huge hole in my middle. The highlight of my day was waiting for her to call me every night. Do you know how saddening it is to know you are fixing simpler dinners, just to get it out of the way, so you can sit there and stare at the phone until it vibrated?