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The soundtrack for this ramble: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpwdwbO1uvM . Listen along, if you want.
The most cutting edge in my marriage is a fighting style I call, "Tit for Tat." The original Latinos (the Romans) called it, "Quid pro quo" or, literally, "This for That." Done well, "Tit for Tat" gives us goodies like football, talk shows and hugs. Within a domestic dispute, it results in kicking beloved hearts and dreams up and down the playing field with devastating results. A few of the classics from my own domestic Tit for Tat skirmishes are:
"You make me so ___________"
"You always ___________"
"You never __________"
"You think _____________"
"You just _________"
Just a few. Hubs and I are both wordsmiths. We can each, individually hammer those verbal swords into an impressive, endlessly creative armory of destruction. When we begin collaborating in this unwitting sport, it gets bloody. There are points we have been kicking up and down the playing field for 36 years. In between skirmishes, we do the "Egg Shell Waltz" where we share an anxious dance of evasion, hoping to avoid the next Tit for Tat skirmish. If I keep doing the same thing for another 36 years, maybe someday I will get different results?
I am THE best composter I know. I make great compost. Egg shells are great for compost. Instead of the Egg Shell Waltz, where we dance precariously around the issues, my instinct wants to change the music to a rowdy jig. Let's grind us up some egg shells for the compost pile and worm factory/vermi-composter.
Ah. . . Life is so simple when I can keep it in the confines of my own mind. . .
Hubs and I have been making progress in kicking our Tit for Tat habits in recent years, but just progress. The demon is still there. We went at it pretty hard this weekend. Ouch. Got me a case of emotional flu this morning. I am being extra gentle with myself. Lot's of extra self-care, with lots of simple, soothing tasks to keep myself distracted.
Historically, hubs runs off to hide behind the armed guard at the entrance of his Corporate Halls. He then "Busy's Out" (his name for it) until the ambulance arrives to carry him to the Stress Wards at the local hospital. His doctor's assure him his habit of "Busying Out" is the primary mechanism behind his current heart condition and the gall bladder explosion that nearly killed him three times last year. I reckon I shouldn't complain. Makes for fat pay checks. Golden Handcuffs? Still, I'd rather have my beloved, warts and all.
Several times over the years, hubs has taken time off work so that he could fix me, instead. He has the scars to prove it. . . Yesterday he took the day off to take extra gentle care of himself instead of trying to fix me. Hm-m-m-m. . . A new step in the dance?
Just venting. . . Someday Life will be as perfect as Me. Not even God is as perfect as my well-paid tech manager.
The most cutting edge in my marriage is a fighting style I call, "Tit for Tat." The original Latinos (the Romans) called it, "Quid pro quo" or, literally, "This for That." Done well, "Tit for Tat" gives us goodies like football, talk shows and hugs. Within a domestic dispute, it results in kicking beloved hearts and dreams up and down the playing field with devastating results. A few of the classics from my own domestic Tit for Tat skirmishes are:
"You make me so ___________"
"You always ___________"
"You never __________"
"You think _____________"
"You just _________"
Just a few. Hubs and I are both wordsmiths. We can each, individually hammer those verbal swords into an impressive, endlessly creative armory of destruction. When we begin collaborating in this unwitting sport, it gets bloody. There are points we have been kicking up and down the playing field for 36 years. In between skirmishes, we do the "Egg Shell Waltz" where we share an anxious dance of evasion, hoping to avoid the next Tit for Tat skirmish. If I keep doing the same thing for another 36 years, maybe someday I will get different results?
I am THE best composter I know. I make great compost. Egg shells are great for compost. Instead of the Egg Shell Waltz, where we dance precariously around the issues, my instinct wants to change the music to a rowdy jig. Let's grind us up some egg shells for the compost pile and worm factory/vermi-composter.
Ah. . . Life is so simple when I can keep it in the confines of my own mind. . .
Hubs and I have been making progress in kicking our Tit for Tat habits in recent years, but just progress. The demon is still there. We went at it pretty hard this weekend. Ouch. Got me a case of emotional flu this morning. I am being extra gentle with myself. Lot's of extra self-care, with lots of simple, soothing tasks to keep myself distracted.
Historically, hubs runs off to hide behind the armed guard at the entrance of his Corporate Halls. He then "Busy's Out" (his name for it) until the ambulance arrives to carry him to the Stress Wards at the local hospital. His doctor's assure him his habit of "Busying Out" is the primary mechanism behind his current heart condition and the gall bladder explosion that nearly killed him three times last year. I reckon I shouldn't complain. Makes for fat pay checks. Golden Handcuffs? Still, I'd rather have my beloved, warts and all.
Several times over the years, hubs has taken time off work so that he could fix me, instead. He has the scars to prove it. . . Yesterday he took the day off to take extra gentle care of himself instead of trying to fix me. Hm-m-m-m. . . A new step in the dance?
Just venting. . . Someday Life will be as perfect as Me. Not even God is as perfect as my well-paid tech manager.
looney1
I love your insights wrapped in humour. Sounds like you and your hubs understand each other very well and somehow it all just works.
LeoX3
Not much to say, but I must admit, I am glad your hubby took some time to get his own oxygen mask sorted out.... to use that metaphor poorly.
aliceunchained87
* hugs * Regardless of whether you are always on the same page, it sounds like you two are trying to work together for the common cause of a better you. I am glad you are able to make progress, however slow.
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