The other day Brian and I had one of those talks.
Call it hormones, call it a moment of crazy, call it undeserved.
I call it a breakthrough.
I don’t know exactly what started it, although I have a good suspicion that I just had a chip on my shoulder that day, but as I stood there indignant, angry and not being very kind in what I was saying to my wonderful man; I started smiling.
In fact, as I spouted off something probably downright mean…I had to turn around and retreat to the bedroom to hide the foolish smile on my face.
Yes, it does sound a bit crazy.
Normal people don’t get mad and bite someone’s head off while giggling inside. Normal people don’t dish out words that hurt and have to stifle a grin.
Then again, normal people haven’t suppressed every angry feeling because they are afraid to let it show for fear of physical retribution. Normal people don’t begin to shake uncontrollably, break out in sweat and have a runaway heartbeat because dinner wasn’t a full success or the house wasn’t museum quality clean.
This week our plumbing went wonky and laundry has piled up (more than normal) dishes have been stacked while waiting for hand washing and my nerves have been on edge due to being sick (and unproductive) It’s been the perfect set-up in my emotional mind that I would “get what I deserved” in the terms of verbal and physical abuse.
That was “then” and sometimes my mind has a funny way of pushing itself into past scenarios and forgetting the “now.”
It’s a lot like if you have had a horrible car accident at a certain twist in the road and every time you pass it, you tense from the memories and just try to speed past it.
Yet, as I stood there mad as everything; I bickered at Brian.
Nothing happened. Nothing has. Nothing will.
And so I laughed. I laughed because I finally made it past that bend in the road that made me tense. I got mad and I showed it. I was angry and that was OK because that is normal. I laughed because somewhere down the road, I healed a little more and didn’t realize it. I wasn’t the least bit concerned about being punched. I didn’t believe for a second that something that was special to me would be taken away for punishment.
So as I stood apologizing to the man who has shown me life again, I had to tell him that I was proud of myself for being a jerk.
…and frankly…as he forgave me for my outburst, I knew he was proud of me too.
Categories: October Diary Entry