A few days ago, like many of you, we had a big fat storm. Snow and wind. Wind Wind Wind.
Gusts up to 70 mph (74 mph is considered hurricane force). This was serious business.
Trees fell. All that wasn't secured went flying. People lost power.
It left all things clean in its wake.
In our area are fields where cows and horses graze, now clean and unmarred. I already thought fields were generally uncluttered areas, but they were markedly brighter, colorful, and pure looking.
And then when you saw the far edges of the fields, where fences or thick brush bordered the open areas: Trash. Debris blown up against them - dry cleaning bags, fast food cups, branches piled up where their exits were prevented.
I am reminded this week how much I need winds in my life. I may think I'm pretty cleared out, but I'm just so used to my own junk I get to where I don't see it. Only when the gale forces blow through my life do I see how much sh!t is blown up against my edges.
This past year (and a half, ugh) I would not wish on anyone. It's been chaotic, devastating, lonely, terrifying, exhausting. But it continues to clean out my junk. My edges are plastered with wreckage, but my middle field is clearer than it's ever been.
My husband would likely argue otherwise; I still defend and deflect as a Default setting in any uncomfortable conversation where I might be Wrong. My shields go up automatically, and he is tired of arguing them down again.
We don't have "normal people" arguments, and we never had from Day One. Because I don't know what that looks like. I did not grow up seeing any example of healthy conflict. You either screamed, verbally attacked the other person as a piece of sh!t, used LOTS of sarcasm, walked away, or hit them. You never admitted you were wrong.
I would give anything to hang around a healthy couple when they have disagreements. To witness this elusive holy grail in real life.
I feel completely handicapped here. I think of how frustrating it is for stroke patients who have expressive aphasia: they know in their brains the word they want to say, the concept they want to communicate, but they are physically unable to SAY IT. Their brains cannot bridge the gap from concept to spoken word. This ultimate frustration brings otherwise strong adults to tears. I have some secondary understanding of their struggle.
Last year, The Husband was at the grocery store and saw a twenty-something couple in frozen foods. They were arguing yet good natured about it, and eventually resolved their conflict - ALL in the grocery store! Within a few aisles! Sounded like a movie scene to me; that far removed from my reality. He ached for that kind of communication when he saw it, came home and told me about it, how he longs for it with me. I ache for it in the way you ache to win the lottery. You want it, bad, but you don't really know what it's like - so completely foreign to what you know day-to-day.
I feel like the biggest failure in the world here, because I want to be the girl in Frozen Foods. You have no idea. But I am clueless about bridging the gap between wanting to be healthy in conflict, and the fist that squeezes my aorta when I feel threatened.
I hate this part of me. Every time a brutal, yet ultimately cleansing, wind blows through my life in this area I think, This is It. I am going to finally be able to change, just because I want it so much. Because I am convinced that I am further along in my autobiography. But then, mere days later, not so much.
LOSER, my soul cries out. Fraud, pretender, hoax.
And then the insidious whisper: he would have been happier with she-who-shall-not-be-named. she was so much better than you will ever be. you will never be good enough for him to love.
Blow, wind, blow. Take this trash out of my field.
