Superman and I did not talk much today.  I felt like taking some space after yesterday.

So today I’m reflecting on how I feel at times I’m in a competition with his late wife.  You’d think it’d be easy to win against a dead woman, but it isn’t.  Logically, when I consider the situation, I know it’s not a competition, and I don’t believe Superman is making it one.  At times it just feels that way.

Sometimes relaying logic to my emotions is a significant challenge.  I know who my “competition” was and the areas I may be tempted to feel like I fall short in.  She was known for her cooking and baking skills.  I’m not bad, but as of now my culinary skills aren’t anything to shout about.  I’ve cooked for Superman on a number of occasions, most of the time with decent results.  What sucks is that after he tries it, he always gives suggestions about how to make it the next time.  He never does it with a mean spirit; he actually does the same thing when he cooks himself – he states out loud what he should do different next time.  He says that one of expectations for a partner is one who can cook and he’s been encouraging me to work on that area.  At times it makes me feel like he wants me to be like her, and that I’m falling short.  What happens when I can’t make manicotti like she can?

We’ve discussed the issue, and he says that he is not expecting me to be her, because if he was he’d be asking me to make the dishes she made.  One of my fears/concerns is that one day I’ll make a dish she was a pro at and I’ll miserably fall short.  We’ll be sitting around the table and he’ll be wishing she was there.

All of her cookbooks are still in his kitchen.  I really don’t want to use them, but I know that there are recipes in there that he really likes.  The kitchen actually really makes me feel like an outsider because she has all of these Pampered Chef items that I don’t even know how to use!  I probably couldn’t identify a third of them.

And then there’s the fact that she’s considered to be a saint.  She suffered so patiently and joyfully through her cancer, and that is the truth, I do not say it with sarcasm.  She did so many wonderful things in her life and encouraged others even while she was near death.  Sometimes when I think about who she was, I wonder if Superman, his family, or others will think he ended up much worse off.  I know that no one wanted her to die, and what other people think of me is none of my business . . . I just wonder if he’ll be disappointed. 

And then there’s the desire to find and capitalize on what I can bring to the table that she couldn’t.  It may sound selfish, but it really is a desire to feel like I have my own special place.  That I’m not just a replacement – someone who will occupy his bed and cook for him.  I want to be loved and valued for who I am.

At times he has been upset with me because he says he believes that I want things to be like she never existed.  I will admit that I think that at times.  I want to be number one in his life, the love of his life, not just his “earth wife”.  Not just the one that he’ll take because she is no longer here.  It’s always accompanied by a measure of guilt, as I would not want my memory to be erased, and I know she was a great woman, wife and mother.

But this is a competition that no one can win because it’s really not a competition at all.  She was who she was, and I am who I am.  I will chose to be proud of who I am and be the best woman, future wife, and future mother that I can be.

This really is a work out for my self esteem!