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It’s Saturday morning about halfway through the 31 day writing challenge.
I have a sinus infection that is making my head swim and the meds are making my stomach queasy.
My house is a disaster with dirty dishes and extra furniture sitting everywhere. I bought a few items from an estate sale. Normally this would be a fun chance to rearrange and reorganize, but with the sinus infection, it’s just one more mess.
The hubs and I had a good conversation last night about the way we communicate. You’d think after 29 years of marriage we’d have this down to a science, but we don’t. We still find ourselves struggling through the same disagreements we have had for all these years. Maybe I’m unrealistic, but I thought by now it wouldn’t be this way.
I’m still learning about me, and he’s still learning about him. We assume the other one is thinking the way we are, but assumptions are a very dangerous endeavor. I assume he thinks the worst of me, and he assumes I think the best of him. I remember in Technicolor detail some slights from the past that he has no memory of, while he remembers exactly where we were standing and his thought process just before he said that incredibly hurtful thing to me.
I’m working on that black and white mentality of mine, and he’s trying to really listen to what I say. I’m trying to let go of the fear I have in speaking my mind, and he’s trying to understand that his reactions have reinforced my fear.
We are a work in progress. We love each other, and we are good together, most of the time. But when sickness, stress, sleep deprivation, and messiness get in the way . . . anyone who’s married knows.
So I’m re-evaluating what I feel like doing and what really needs to be done. I’m looking at messes and reminding myself that this is one day. I’ll feel much better in a few more days and none of this will be nearly as difficult as it is right now.
Blessings from the house of mess this Saturday morning.
linking up with 31 Days of Writing
We've been married for 28 years. We've seen each other through the births of our children. We've dealt with difficult pregnancies, an emergency c-section, weeks of bed rest, discussing funeral arrangements in case our son didn't survive, a premature birth, a slow and arduous recovery for me.
We've dealt with me telling him I understood he felt called to preach the gospel, but I was incapable of a being a "preacher's wife". I crushed his plans.
We've dealt with years of actuarial exams. Of his studying all evening and early mornings and working all day, while I stayed home and wrangled 2 kids.
We've dealt with recognizing and coming to terms with the abuse I suffered, and the ongoing effects of the abuse. He has supported me financially, physically, spiritually, and emotionally.
We've dealt with raising 2 kids. A misdiagnosis of one child and years of trying to find the right diagnosis. Medications that it turned out were unnecessary and even harmful.
We're facing the empty nest soon, and a job change for him in the near future.
And we really love each other . . . but sometimes our communication skills are just awful. He lashes out from exhaustion, and I get my feelings hurt and just try to move a long.
We do this dance around each other. This imperfect dance of marriage and trying to understand and be understood.
We have an imperfect marriage full of imperfect communication because we are imperfect beings trying to emulate perfection.
linking up with imperfect prose
I read a lot of blogs. I comment occasionally. I am usually overwhelmed by the gifts I see in these blogs, and every once and a while underwhelmed. But mostly what I wonder is "Am I adding anything to this format?"
When I first heard about blogging is sounded like a lot of vanity to me. People writing about themselves and posting on the internet for all the world to see. And I wondered about my motivations in wanting to join the fray.
I tend to criticize the things I am most drawn to. Maybe it's just another way to denigrate myself. Maybe it's just what I felt was happening to me as I grew up. Either way, I think it's about time I stopped doing it.
For all the methods of communication we have in the modern world, there are still a plethora of lonely people. People who need interaction with others but have trouble for one reason or another reaching out. Blogging helps with the loneliness.
It's not the same as a one on one conversation, but it has benefits. I have been pleasantly surprised at the inclusion I have felt. I have been even more surprised by the absence of judgment. Maybe I've just been lucky, but I don't think so.
All of us, but especially women, need to feel connected to one another. Blogging is just another attempt in this crazy rat race life to connect.
So keep writing.
“How are you?” she asks.
“Not very well, I’m having a hard time,” I reply.
I’m on the phone in my workroom, standing over my computer, too tired to be having this conversation.
“Another flashback? Is that the problem?”
“I have remembered some other things. I just can’t talk about it right now.”
“I’m sorry you’re still having trouble,” she says, and I wonder if I can really say what is in my head.
“I’m going to need to take a break for a while. Not permanently, but just for a while. I just can’t handle talking with you, knowing he’s still a part of your life,” I say it calmly, as if I have the right to say these things to my mother.
She inhales, and says sadly, “Okay. Whatever you need.” The hesitancy and pain in her voice make me think of taking it back, but I’m just too tired. And she always says that, “whatever you need”, but it’s a lie.
“I’ll let you know when I can talk again, but for now if you need something or just want to check in, call or email Alan.”
“I love you.” She never ends a conversation with that. She never says that at all. She’s scared.
I hang up the phone, knowing I’m glad for what I’ve done, but terrified by it.
That was four months ago.
I wasn’t sure about the consequences. I wanted to believe it would be a wake-up call for them; help them come to the realization that I needed more. That things were never going back to the way they were before.
What I’ve gotten is the realization that my mother is sad and scared, convinced that I am in a fragile state – one step away from shattering. My father is angry and it’s impacting his health. What I haven’t gotten is anything different. No efforts to reach out via my husband. Some inappropriate quizzing of my daughter. And a really bad case of martyrdom about my son’s high school graduation.
Those are their consequences.
Mine are different. I’ve had some deep depression. I haven’t questioned my choice, but I have been saddened by the results. And angered. Which my therapist says is good.
It’s been a long time coming, this choice, but I had to get to the point that I could handle the consequences.
over the weekend Alan and I went to The Inn at Evins Mill for an anniversary getaway. it's always nice to go somewhere new, and I highly recommend The Inn if you are anywhere nearby.
the best things about a getaway with Alan though, is the chance to talk without interruptions and to just "be" quietly together -- to remember why we chose each other.
relationship is all about communication. all too often the longer we are married, the less time we spend in actual communication. it's all well and good to say, "we know each other so well, we don't need to talk", but I don't believe that for a minute.
the same thing is true in my relationship with God. if I don't spend time talking to Him, i.e., studying His word and praying (talking) to Him, I lose sight of who He truly is. I impose my own fears, beliefs, and negative thoughts onto Him and they were never His to begin with. that's just satan trying to fool me.
make time today to communicate with the people most important to you -- God, your spouse, you kids -- whoever. even if it's just 5 or 10 minutes. it can make all the difference in the world.
blessings!
