Ask Amy: Now that I’m married, I miss living with my family

I feel incredibly sad. Sometimes I cry, almost uncontrollably. These crying episodes happened twice last week.

I’ve talked about it with my husband, and he’s comforted me, but I don’t want to keep complaining to him of how sad I am.

I love him so much, and I don’t want him to feel like I would rather be back with my parents.

I wouldn’t want to move back home, but my new house with my husband seems so terribly unfamiliar, and visiting my parents always makes me feel like I’m finally home.

My husband feels like family to me — but my house isn’t home yet, and going from living with five other people at home to just two people is scary.

How do I cheer up and get over my homesickness?

— Homesick Wife

Homesick: You’ve just experienced two of the most exciting and impactful experiences a young adult can have: Getting married, and leaving home.

Unlike many people, who experience and adjust to homesickness in stages starting right after high school, you’ve experienced both huge events at the same time, and … it’s a lot!

You may feel homesick twinges for the rest of your life (I certainly do). Your home and family are intertwined with other skeins and strands of your lifelong set of experiences and — all of these things help to form your identity.

Now your identity will expand to include additional descriptors, such as wife, partner, new house dweller. Adjusting to these big changes will take time.

Your hurting heart should ease over time as you and your husband make your house into a “home.” Join community groups, repaint and decorate, and invite your clan to join you for Thanksgiving.

Talk to your family. Talk to your husband. Don’t keep these feelings in.

If you don’t start to feel more like yourself in a couple of weeks, you should be screened for depression.

Also — connect with a counselor. A therapist, social worker, or qualified life coach could provide the supportive connection to see you through this transition.

Dear Amy: My husband and I are in our mid-80s, in generally good health and are blessed to have our three children and their families nearby. We see them all often.

One of our sons has always been very careful about his diet and follows all the latest research on the most healthful way to eat.

Now, every time he visits we get dreary lectures on what we should and shouldn’t eat, what to throw out of our larder, what research to study, and what daily routines to incorporate into our life.

He won’t let it go. We try to lightheartedly dissuade this unwelcome “advice,” but it falls on deaf ears.

Incidentally, by most standards we eat a very healthy diet — very little meat, lots of vegetables and fruits, whole grains, nuts. We do include a bit of sugar. No caffeine or alcohol. And we exercise regularly.

We are happy to live like this for the rest of our days.

How can we convince our son to accept that we are going to eventually die, and we’d rather enjoy our time with him free of endless tussles about what we choose to eat.

— Loving Mother

Loving Mother: You might not be able to convince your son to accept your eventual death. That’s a tall order for someone who seems to be trying his hardest to prevent it.

You don’t mention whether he evangelizes with everyone. If so — yes, how dreary.

Elders often say that one privilege they enjoy is the ability to be blunt, without worrying too much about the reaction.

Try that. For example, “Son. We’re going to stop you right there. We appreciate how much you love us, but we will not be changing our diets. Why? Because we don’t want to.”

Dear Amy: The question from “At Wits End Wife” sent shivers up my spine. Her husband’s violence was escalating, and he was killing small animals.

I married a man like that and his behavior did accelerate. He tortured and killed my cat. He tortured and abused me in less than one year of marriage.

I left unannounced to anyone and had to hide from him. I’m so thankful I was able to save my life.

— Safe Now

Safe: This is horrific. I hope she does leave. Now.

©2022 by Amy Dickinson distributed by Tribune Content Agency