I’ve heard this, read it somewhere, and definitely not from my parents.
I’ve experienced the results of going to bed angry many times. You don’t sleep, your mind wanders over what-ifs, and when you do drift off you have bizarre dreams about picking avocados and shaving your BFFs legs…
Last night I was not being a team player, though that’s been a weakness of mine since junior high school. Some people join the basketball team, some people play tennis.
Hubbie and I got on the phone, and the light-hearted “how was your day” chit chat turned into a discussion about bills. And I know at some point I said something cruel like, “maybe you shouldn’t come home until you figure out a clever way to make more money.”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line, “So much for, ‘I miss you’.”
“I guess I’m just all tapped out for ideas.”
Of course this has more to do with me than with him. It’s not the 50′s, and I’m not a housewife. I wanted to marry for love not money, and I never wanted to depend on anyone. And I got exactly what I wanted. I guess I just didn’t anticipate the frustration, identity crisis, and how difficult it would be to get a new career going as a writer. But none of that is hubbie’s fault. The man is no slouch, one of the hardest working, most talented people I know. He doesn’t deserve finger pointing about who didn’t do what, or whining about not being able to take a vacation, or a solemn goodnight.
What I should have said was: I believe in you, me, us, and we’ll figure something out. But I didn’t.