Tales of a Business Traveler's Wife: Jealousy

Having a business traveler husband does provide a handful of advantages.  All that traveling earns mileage and hotel points, and many meals on the road allow for quite a bit of restaurant experience.  Each of these "perks" benefits our family occasionally.  Furthermore, my husband can lead me through an airport to the right gate and on time, no matter how short the layover.  He knows how to handle rental vehicles from pick-up to return without having to ask questions.  He carries an admirable finesse in the outside world and a polished manner that comes from years of on-the-go travel training.

He also has a jealous wife.              

I miss the many roles he plays in our home and marriage when he's not at home, and most of all the comfort of his presence.  I let him know I will miss him, and express my feelings plainly and without dramatic displays (not my style, anyway).  He understands what I mean and hearing me state my case makes him feel revered, respected, loved and important.  Jealousy does not enter the picture here.

My landscape remains mostly the same.  I enjoy the comfort of the home every day that my husband, by the grace of God, provides for us.  My husband would like that sameness, which would match his more structured manner of living, and avoid the changes he prefers to resist.  He likes comfortable patterns.  He wants to feel cared for and to have the advantages of being married in all the forms available to him, and why shouldn't he?  Yet I feel jealous.  Grrrrr.

I don't mention that I feel this way, mainly because when he stands ready for a good-bye kiss, I don't have a smidgen of jealousy anywhere, and it never enters my mind.  It never surfaces during the time he travels.  I forget the feeling completely.

The jealousy hits when he's here again, sometimes creeping in while he shares photos or when he wows the kids with foam stress balls, ballpoint pens and nifty flashlights he picked up for them at a trade show.  I feel a little green when he points out locations he has visited or may visit in the future.  When he raves over a menu choice at a restaurant, I smile and remember the leftovers we consumed last night.  I don't begrudge him the experience, but I feel a little left out.

Shame on me.

Do I feel jealous that he has a nice time, eats well and sees some amazing sights?  I pretty much do.  I'm ashamed to a degree, and after all these years you'd think I'd have adjusted.  I've regressed, actually, though the jealousy is a tiny fraction of my feelings -- almost not worth mentioning, but it happens without warning.  Small as it is, it irritates me that it arrives at all.  Like a single mosquito, whining for attention and too crafty to slap.

I pray about it as it happens, and feel the relief of weight lifting from me.  I shouldn't feel it, but I know to go to God immediately to avoid piling on more and possibly acting out on it, which I have never done.  It does not consume me, it irritates.

Oh, travel, you thief!  I feel terrible that he loses sleep and misses time to unwind and relax at home.  I hate that he works late into the night to keep up with usual responsibilities as well as perform the necessary parts of the travel itinerary.  I hate that sometimes he sits down to dinner while I climb into bed for the night, and that he has little hope of getting to bed again until the clock has passed midnight.  I regret that he has to wade through lots of wasted time that he can't control, has to sleep in uncomfortable beds, must endure loud air conditioners and inconsiderate neighbors, and put up with long waits for security checks at the airport not to mention cramped airplane seating.  I hate knowing that he feels lonely, that he "lives alone" during his time away, and that we both lie in bed at night waiting for him to return home.  And the small pangs of envy invade at the thought of having just a little of his experience, and to have the experience of enjoying the welcoming at home.

When I realize that the jealousy I feel has strings attached, I know that God has tied them there.  My jealous self would want to enjoy the trip, see the sights, order varied selections at my choice of restaurants (those without drive-thru windows or plastic trays for carrying food) and relax well, when not taking in the sights and attractions of the location du jour.  My "living in the real world" husband doesn't have the option for any of those.  I would want to travel to the airport and take my time getting to the gate, enjoy the flight, and take a few side trips between the airport and the hotel.  Those things don't exist on the itinerary for the man I married.  I'm jealous of a dream more than of the reality.

And with that, God just gave me a new angle ... I have learned another, more important lesson, and that is this:  I feel jealous of the travel, as if it were a living thing.  That untouchable entity that envelops my husband, whisks him away, holds him out of my reach, treats him to things I'll never experience or share with him, and then sends him home again when it has exhausted him, wrung him out like a rag.

I'm jealous that it sometimes gets the best of him and leaves him hoping to offer our marriage more, knowing he has little left to give.  He tries and succeeds, but suffers consequences.  He knows he provides our needs with his work, for which he sacrifices so much.  Travel steals a lot of his joy, which it didn't used to do.   I want for him to enjoy what he experiences, though he usually just gets through on fumes.  I hope he will recover quickly, but the travel returns to take him again and adds more time to the recovery process the next time.

Yes, I'm jealous of travel.  It gives, but it also takes.  It's business, after all.