We tease each other all weekend. Forming opinions, embellishing ideas, joking and laughing. We have little debates, confident in our views and sure the other is wrong. We bet on where Marky Mark got his start (turns out the Mr. is right it was NKOTB) and whether or not earwigs can really bore into the human brain via the ear (I was wrong about that too, they can't). It's a refreshing change from earlier in the week when the arguments were serious. The tension palpable between us. Each choosing space instead of cutting words. I find myself panicked still about our relationship when this happens. When we argue. Part of me so sure of myself and hurt for his not understanding. Silent, stubborn, standing off, this is how I protect myself. At the same time panic has set, as it always does when we fight, and I instantly at the same time want to run to him - tell him I'm joking or wrong. Just don't be mad anymore I can't take it. Desperate. I hate this desperate part of myself and do everything in my power to hide it, especially in these moments when it screams the loudest.
A day goes by like this. All the day long I oscillate between catastrophe and desperation. Between wondering how long until it all falls apart, and what were we thinking bringing another human being into the world when we can't even get along, wanting to get in my car and drive for miles until I hit the dry desert with it's oppressive heat and isolation. These thoughts are mixed with the old familiar panic, don't leave me, I love you so much, how can I make it without you. These two extremes form the landscape of my mind. Sprinkled with sarcasm and cynicism. A little humor and self degradation. It keeps me humble and crazy. Constant chatter and doubt.
Instead of the desert and its isolation I find the hustle of the shopping mall. There I wander amidst families, power walking between couples. Mindless and numb, the stimulation distracts my monkey mind. Away from all of the doubt and panic. The walking creates a clearing within. I am able to breathe. I remember that I love my husband dearly. I remember that we are both indeed very committed to one another. It is not the end of the world, even if it does feel that way. I find my center, on my own. Among all of the shoppers. I decide then it's time to go home.
I find him at home on the back porch with the boy. We start our dance at a distance. From inside through the window I start to gently poke and prod. He escalates in anger. I am calm. I escalate in anger. He is calm. We each speak back and forth. Heated. Both hurt. But each tending to the other, in our own ways. I let the process happen and we find our common ground again. The space between us shrinks. Hours later, we are each still tender but the heat has lifted. All that is left now is the continuing of coming together. And a day later at the start of our weekend, we are laughing and intentionally needling each other. Sharing our opinions, wondering out loud and betting we know more than the other.
This is our dance. We will dance it over and over. It evolves and changes as we do. I am so very thankful we are able to take the space we need now. I think back to years ago when we yelled. Like dogs chained to a fence, neither of us able to get away. Name calling (that was me), saying things just to be hurtful (that was him). We are able to argue now and remember while arguing that we really do love each other. And try in the moment to treat each other that way. Sometimes, we succumb to the temptation, hitting below the belt. But we've learned to be gracious with each other also. Allowing for room. Knowing we will step on each other's toes. Knowing the other will sometimes be blatantly wrong and loving them more because of it. Even if technically I'm right because Marky-Mark wasn't in NKOTB when they made it big. At least not that I remember...
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