Sometimes my husband and I quarrel over the silliest trifles. Gameboys, brunches, bread, dinners, and these become names, and the names become volcanoes of venom that would probably end it all if we weren’t the small amount of careful that we are. We walk a fine line between love and hate. But we never hate each other. We always love each other, but maybe it’s what we define as being love that changes our perception of one another.
This goes back to something the minister’s wife told me, recommended to me at one point: A group, kind of therapy but in someone’s private house, kind of a workshop, involving restructuring one’s expectations including what we want versus what is necessary.
For example, I might think it is necessary in my definition of love that my husband leaves here every time he goes away with a kiss and a very long goodbye. I might think it necessary that he does little things for me around the house. I might think it also necessary that when we get home from a day together that he would want to spend even more time together. But no, maybe he just wants to spend his time with his Gameboy, and that’s all right. He can do that. I need to respect that. There’s nothing wrong with him playing a game and me writing or working or watching a movie or reading. Neither is better. I don’t need to judge our time together.
I don’t need to be so dramatic. Drama sucks, and I need to be mindful of its effect on people. I have a tendency to be melodramatic even if I don’t admit it. That can affect our relationship. It can make it harder for me to accept situations in our lives.
Simple. One of my New Year’s Resolutions was to be more simple. I think I’m going to take some time out after doing chores today and working out to write some more about my resolutions. Also, I’ll let my thoughts out about my son. I can’t bottle them up, but I don’t need to talk about them every waking moment with Chris. Balance.