Unsafe Word Country
Yesterday was another rough day in Wife World. Every time I opened my mouth around Hubby, my words were offensive to him and worthy of scathing attack. My primary focus was on not opening my mouth around him. Alas, even my silence was offensive. He began tatting his own tits when I refused to volley in our traditional tit-for-tat skirmish style. This morning is filled with echoes of his harsh summaries and anxieties over how I will offend him today. As of bedtime, I was stuttering in his presence and unable to focus my hearing fast enough to catch his words as fast as he was speaking them. Requests for repeats were met with angry insistance that he had to do it all himself while I slithered off to my rightful place in dummy land.
Ouch. . .
None of this feels new to my senses, even though I have no approved words for this body of ^its^. Hubs returned to his paid gig this past week. The tensions were already building while he was bracing himself for the return to his business as usual. Add in the Fall honey harvest and? ? ? Executive take over in progress? The less time he spends on the battlefield, the more expert he is on what needs to happen? I have an hour to spare, underling. I have arrived to authoritate, dumbshit. Look, listen and memorize. Be sure you read the fine print between the assumptions.
The most distressing part of this particular whatchamacallit cycle is how far removed ^it^ is from the poet I married. I often wonder if the "Executive Takeover" is his father taking over my husband's body. Yucko bucko. . . NOT a fair trade. Where's my gentle poet?
Sorting. . . Praying. . .
Looking forward to Tuesday when the girls start daycare. I may celebrate with an anywhere-but-here day. We see. That is still two days away and I remain hesitant to count my blessings before they have arrived.
Replies
It's not the same thing, arfie, but in my current situation with a boss I'm in the bind you describe, too: "My primary focus was on not opening my mouth.... Alas, even my silence was offensive." I was just telling some friends about that last night at dinner. I don't know the answer to it, I just figured out the dynamic. Me silent, he escalates. Prayers in progress looking forward with you for Tuesday and day care.
I kinda believe ^it^ might be the same thing, Muji. Back in the bad old days when PTSD was still "Shell Shock," trigger warning referred to the state of the patient far more than the fears of offending innocent by-standers. When being supportive of a peer going through a psychotic episode, you don't expect a political correction to make everything okay. The fine art of staying out of harm's way while respecting the patient's need to work through the episode on their own recognizance.
If I can call this particular ^it^, "A psychosis," I can carry it through to the shell shock support adage of don't engage a psychosis and definitely don't eat the verbal vomit that so often accompanies a psychotic episode. One of many theories. . . Don't even know if that particular theory set made it to the PTSD theories.
Given all that has transpired during this season of shit storms, I can easily believe my beloved is due a psychotic break or two. It has been a rough series of unfortunate events for both of us. I have a therapy support network to lean on. He only has his executive super cape. Sir, yes sir. Whatever you say, Sir.
Big hug for you Arf….. You guys must be under so much stress right now I can't imagine how you're coping with it all...… An anywhere but here day might be good for the soul Arf
Another hug and a blessing while you sort......xo
Yup, I think we've both been rode hard and put away wet. . . Grumpery understandable. . . Still not okay but understandable.
Saluting all nag flags.
Anybody up for a who's-more-tired debate?
Carrying all the emotions you are carrying will burst at the seams eventually. I am sorry you are both enduring all that. Wheras us women tend to cry it out, men will hold back. It takes its toll. Peace and hugs Arfie.
Totally agree with Sun.
Hoping hubby will get what he "needs" and standing on my head with the hope you can run away to a river for a few hours! Hugs & Prayers
Despite the *us women* stereotypes, Hubs is the crier in my marriage.
The closest real river is two days from here. . . Sigh. . . Still, there are always new wonders to be explored.
Sending hugs and support. I read, but understand little of what I can say will help. The Poet I am sure is in there yet somewhere. But the things that have happened are less understood than his day job, so like the rivers he is taking the easiest path of resistance. There is only so much change it seems before the mind and body must go into the zone of what it can do against what it wants to do or undo.
my heart J.