Earlier today I would have told anyone that it’s okay to call him boy again. I sat in his chair with Jack on my lap reading for a good part of the afternoon with ex-boy in the bedroom doing something else and I was perfectly happy. I thought about how we had been functioning and how I have finally forgiven myself for the events this passed fall. But on this rainy evening my frustrations kept building over stepping outside to walk Jack in the rain and coming in soaking wet and just wanting to curl up and sleep having been up early for the 4 hour Saturday lab, the crank mood finally settled in to stay for a while on a final trip in the rain to the grocery store. And I experienced a flashback to really bad times.
Ex-boy and I have never learned how to argue. 7 years this April, and we don’t know how to have a disagreement. They don’t happen often. We are very laid back on the small things and we tend to agree on big decisions. But when they do happen, I am propelled by emotions that go unvalidated and he is propelled by the need for an immediate fix and we hit a wall of stubborn. And it sucks. We can accept each-other as is, we can recognize one another’s need for space, and he’s the only one allowed to pull a cookie out of my hand because he knows that the violent repercussions of doing so are still better than a mopey Al who feels guilty about her poor diet that’s affecting her overall well-being. Anyone else, they’d die attempting that.
But we’ll stay as is if we don’t learn how to have an argument. The entire point of the initial separation was to learn how to make things work, and it appears we are stuck on this. Although we don’t argue often, I know from the flashback to the bad times that unsettled arguments build and curse words ensue and once you start throwing words like daggers there’s no point.
Here’s to hoping we can figure this one out…