Okay, so what the hell happened Monday night? There was a lot of swearing and slamming of doors, from Mistress, and crying, pouting, reproachful looks and going away crying in corners from me. Despair all around, and a general feeling of doom and disaster.
It was a while since we did this dance, even though we once upon a time did it quite frequently. Lately though our hearts haven't really been in it. Even while I've been stomping my foot and claiming she can't possibly love me since she did/said/didn't say/didn't do whatever, I've often realised I don't really believe it myself, and that tends to take the proper fire out of any argument. We've been to happy, to secure in our love for each other, to let temporary misunderstandings and mistakes really rattle us.
But not this time. This time, the alternative reality where our love is a sham, and we're both alone in the world, ashamed and worthless, engulfed us both completely.
I think shame is the critical part here. We often conclude that to nip a potentially horrific fight in the bud "it's enough if one of us isn't a complete idiot". Unfortunately, when we're in a situation where both of us feel inadequate and all to aware of our short-comings, we both tend to lose our grip on reality and sink down in the quagmire of idiocy that is self-loathing and shame.
She didn't want to leave me alone with a sick kid, and especially not if I was sick too. But she really really wanted to keep her promise and fulfill her responsibilities at work and go away for two days for her important meeting.Whichever she choose, stay or go, she had to let someone down, had to sacrifice something.
I didn't want her to go away, but I didn't want to make her decision harder either. The more I felt sick the more I wanted her to stay, needed her to stay, and the more I felt ashamed of myself. I wanted to be the supportive partner, I wanted to say "it's okay, I can deal with this, you go and do your thing".
But. I also wanted to feel loved and acknowledged, and if she was going to leave me with the flu and a kid with chickenpox all alone for two days, I wanted to know that she knew that that was what she was doing. That she cared, that she made conscious decision to do that, and that she would take responsibility for whatever consequences that might entail.
The prospect of it scared the shit out of me, but I was prepared to do it if that was what she wanted, because I'll do anything for her.
And here is where it all went wrong. She didn't ask how I was feeling, and I couldn't tell her. I mean, literary couldn't. I've realised with time that there are other people out there who would have no problems voicing the words "hey, my fever's gone up and I feel terrible; I don't think I'll be okay alone at home, we'll have to figure something out" to their significant other. For me, that's not possible. I can't form the words, they are blocked by shame. I'm sure I can learn to with time and patience but as it is now, it's not happening.
So that's my idiocy. Hers, of course, was not asking in the first place. After a long day where Mistress got home earlier from work to relieve me and I stumbled to bed for the rest of the day, we finally got a chance to talk to eachother when little S was down for the night. In the morning I had had a slight cold, a little snivelling but mostly fine. During the day I had felt progressively worse, and eventually realised that it wasn't a simple cold, it was more like the the flu. I had a fever, my whole body ached, and I had no energy to do anything except laying down and staring at the wall.
Now, why hadn't I told her this? The thing is, I thought I had. When she came home, she hugged me and we talked a few words, I said I felt crappy and went straight to bed. I came out for dinner, ate a few bites, and went back to bed. I _said_ I felt horrible. I sighed, I told her I was shivering, I mentioned having a fever, I told her all of those things. But... I did it evasively, in bits and pieces. I even came up to her at one point and asked for a hug and wanted to be pitied. But somehow, in some way, it didn't register in her mind as "c is feeling much worse now than she did this morning".
Or it did but she didn't want to know. I don't know which it is, and I don't get it. Anyway, when we did get a chance to talk to eachother, she described the schedule for her trip to me, without asking me anything. I said "yes" and "okay" and "I understand".
For me, it's inconceivable that she didn't start out the conversation (the first real one we had been able to have all day) with asking about me, how I was. For her, I guess, she didn't because she figured if anything had happened or changed, I would have told her. Only, I wouldn't, because I can't. I need a question, and a sympathetic, non-judgmental ear, to be able to talk about stuff like that.
She said I seemed strange, or angry, and that it was obvious that there was something I wanted to say to her. I thought about it and said that no, there wasn't. There wasn't anytjning I wanted to say to her, if there was I would have done it already, and if there was anything she wanted to know she only had to ask, and I would answer.
I think that if I had poked a bees nest with a stick, I might have gotten a calmer, more level-headed reaction out of it then that response provoced from her.
No comments:
Post a Comment