Posts
The weekend started off well enough, but it soon devolved into a series of miscommunications on both our parts that caused a bit of an issue. Musicman has developed a bad habit of speaking before he thinks. He says things off the cuff, things that are not designed to hurt me, but they do. My usual response of late is to withdraw into silence, at which point he gives up and ignores me.
He knows ignoring me is the worst thing he could do, or at least he should because I've told him that multiple times. Besides, that is not new, I have never been ammenable to being ignored. I made a concerted effort not to withdraw into silence because I know that's not helpful.
He made an effort, he took advantage of an empty house, we had some play time. Everything is good, NOT. Sometimes it just doesn't quite work as well as we would like. It works fine for him, just not so much for me sometimes. It is not my most shining moment to say the least when this happens.
My mind floods with all kinds of doubts and negativity. He doesn't want this. He doesn't want me. This is not working. I'm a freak and I should just stop needing this. I shouldn't be so sensitive, that is what Musicman tells me. Hmm, a sensitive female, go figure. He also says I shouldn't think so much. We've been here before and I don't like the scenery much.
I made an effort to talk about the issue. Musicman listens, but he makes almost zero effort to respond. Apparently it's okay for me to struggle to communicate but not him. I make it too easy for him because I am more then willing to make excuses for him. I tell myself he's been through so much the last few months, he just needs more time. I get that, afterall, it's not like he has gone through this all alone.
After the useless histrionics on my part concluded I worked up my courage and told him what I needed. It was hard, but I kept reminding myself he is not a mind reader. In a pathetic attempt to avoid actually giving voice to my needs I asked him if he had learned to read my mind yet. He assured me he had not. So I found my voice and I told him I needed more. Yay me, forward progress, even if baby steps, is still progress. He listened, he gave me what I needed. All is good. Until the next morning.
I woke up much earlier than he did. Not unusual and not a problem, I was having coffee and reading the newspaper. I'm a bit of a news junkie and love to read the newspaper. I had baked cinammon rolls for breakfast. It should have been a pleasant morning. It would have been if he just would have thought for one minute before opening his mouth and making a careless comment. A comment that if he had thought at all about he would have realized that it would do nothing but add fuel to the doubts I wrestle with. I tried not to retreat, I told him how the comment affected me. He said I need to be less sensitive, it was a joke. I didn't find it funny.
He tells me he doesn't like to see my sad eyes, he wants me to be happy. He has the ability to help me be happy, but he tells me if I'm not happy that's up to me to fix. To a certain extent I agree. There is one small problem with that though, I can't do this alone, if I could I certainly would.
I don't think he realizes how dangerous it is to say things like that to me when I'm upset. You see, I will fight for what I want, I'll fight with everything I have. That's how I survived my childhood, by never giving up. But, at some point if it seems like losing is inevitable, I'll stop fighting. I'll change my strategy, I'll run. The last time I ran I was 17. I found myself 1000 miles away from anyone or anything familiar. I had a borrowed car, a box of basic necessities, a suitcase of clothes and a small amount of money and that's it. I had no place to live, no job and didn't know a soul. I survived.
I've never considered giving up on this relationship, I've never considered running. Lately, when things like this happen, and he says off hand things, things that he doesn't even remember saying later, I think about running. That scares me.
