"Pooh?" whispered Piglet. "Yes, Piglet? said Pooh. "Oh, nothing," said Piglet. "I just wanted to be sure of you." Piglet and I have something in common here. ::poke, poke:: just making sure you're there.
Only my poke is a sharp stick. In the eye. Or soft, tender flesh.
Like a bull in a china shop, I am completely out of hand. The tinkling of glass is heard initially, as I inadvertently drop a few things, and then ::CRASH:: sh!t is falling to the floor in great explosions as I turn around in spaces too small for my big emotions.
I end up arguing, hard, with my husband, when I just meant to poke him gently to be sure he's still there. It is never gently. At least not until after glasses have been shattered and I'm aghast at the mess I've made.
And then I just want to hit the imaginary "Reset" button and poke him gently, after my Monster emotions have been spent, and they are now sleeping quietly in the corner. And he, being a logical man, is dumbfounded. Are you f-ing kidding me? Get the hell away from the crazy, unpredictable person. Run, do not walk, to the nearest Exit kind of dumbfounded.
It is rare to have my husband's full-on undivided attention/extended eye contact unless he's upset, pissed off and arguing with me. That's a years-old thing now, and I've discovered a well, then, if that is how I get your time, I'm going to do it bit of a scenario.
And after said-argument's denoument, I feel closer to him in the big picture. Even though he likely feels miles away. I know it doesn't make sense, but it's been true after just about every argument we've had (with the exception of the Dark Time). When I realized this, I mentioned it to my counselor. Who, amazingly, didn't gasp in horror at my incongruence. She was quick to enlighten me with the Why.
I've engaged him, which is what my heart cries out to do. Yet, I've engaged him negatively. And at great cost to the relationship and long-term goals of intimacy. But the status quo for my husband is to be dis-engaged from me, unplugged.
I am searching to "plug in" some way, any way, and if I can't engage him positively, by God we end up arguing. It's awful, emotional, I am usually crying, it's fcuking exhausting to both of us. It goes on and on, and when it finally ends, I am left upset but feeling connected on some wackjob level.
I can't tell you how laser-guided missile accurate that was to hear.
While it's not pre-meditated, or intentionally cruel, it's my slippery slope. Motive doesn't matter when you end up in a bad place (the road to hell is paved with good intentions and all that).
And it usually happens after a prolonged period of disconnect, or when I have reached my emotional limit of Feeling Alone and Neglected.
And despite my inner groanings of 'growth' sprouted in my last post, we just had this very scene tonight. For hours. And my bull in the china shop was crashing all over the place. At my worst I hit him (in the shoulder) and threw something (small, unbreakable) across the room at the peak of frustration.
My eyes are still puffy from the boohoos. Monster emotions were at DEFCOM 5. No one should have to internally flinch when you're in the room, you know? For God's sake, this is how I grew up. This is the steamer trunk of baggage I have brought with me and unpacked in my own house.
My emotions are labile (ya think?). The conversation started decently and then -perhaps because my subconscious radar registered that he was not plugging in- it went south.
I am NOT proud to tell you this. To reveal more of the deepest, sewage-y Yuck I still have gurgling around in my psyche is galling. I am knotted all up inside.
But I want it out there. All of it. I have for a long time, but that's not as easy as it sounds. I try to tell (a select few) friends that, yes, I had my part in running my husband away. (Caveat To Prevent The Flood Of Indignant Emails: yes, it was ultimately his mistake to go outside the marriage for a false solution, and he had his own faults in the demise of the marriage, etc. but HELLO? do you see his side even a tee-tiny bit?)
They don't believe it. Not truly. I'm the Beauty Queen. I'm all surface. I'm funny and charming and enthusiastic (the flip side of which is Monster emotions and china-shopping bulls). You can't know me. And the one person who really did see my Ugliness, walked away for a time.
But he is also still here. And at my basest, insecure depth, I cannot begin to understand why.
Excuse me, I have to go brush off my knees. And elbows. Again.
It's not how many times you try and fail, it's how many times you fail and try again. -unknown
Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart. And try to love the questions themselves. -Rainer Maria Rilke
