Sometimes, it feels as dark as it actually is. It depends on whether it’s the weekday or the weekend. It makes sense – we don’t usually see each other until the evenings on the weekdays and we’re around each other all day on the weekends. Inevitably, something gets said. Things spiral, and then we’re both unhappy and left with picking up pieces of ourselves until we start helping each other pick up the rest.
I hate when it happens at night because we’re left lying in the dark, feeling dark, reduced to a sad puddle of emotions. I once thought the bed forcing us close together was a positive thing because it would make us resolve the issue, but the proximity only seems to magnify the frustrations. It makes me feel an ocean apart from her when we silently lay there.
I hate when it happens during the day because I shutdown and become a zombie who can no longer focus on anything. I have no ability to compartmentalize a part of my life and carry on. I envy those that can.
I hate it in general.
I’ve always believed that arguments are healthy for relationships. They’re natural. It’s only how people act, react, and process them that determines whether to add the “un-” prefix to healthy. But it doesn’t always start with an argument, and maybe that contributes to some of my frustrations. If I were to identify a root cause, I’d point at how we communicate differently, and that we’re both naturally emotional people.
I know I have a lot of pride and stubbornness, and against my desire, I’ve only become more hard-headed over the years. It has become harder to laugh at myself. And particularly when it comes to her, I want to be the best I can be, an expectation that I feel I always fall short of, at which point I mentally beat myself up over it and the negativity spills over to her.
I’ve tried to meditate on a regular basis, so that when I feel myself welling up with uncontrollable anguish or frustration, I can focus on my breathing and let go. But I struggle. I yell, I turn my back, I hit myself, I walk out of the room. I want to know why she doesn’t understand where I’m coming from. She wants to know why I’m not listening to her. And it’s always the same vicious cycle, the same back and forth, until enough time has passed to mute the emotions and issues. They don’t always get resolved and those very issues always creep back.
I believe in sympathy pains, and I feel it. I am sad, upset, and dysfunctional when she’s sad, upset, and dysfunctional. And when two sad, upset, and dysfunctional people try to interact, it rarely plays out positively. I often reason that I should just disconnect myself a bit from life so that I can bend further without throwing up a fuss. Perhaps, as usual, all that is needed is perspective, or at least reestablishing the proper perspective. I know I’m fallible, I know she’s fallible, I know I’m still learning, I know I will keep trying, and most importantly, I know I love her.