Joe & I
I had to look that word up, by the way...profundity.
It means deep insight. Something profound.
Surprisingly, I found it on Facebook today.
I'm not talking about the Pinterest, bumper sticker 'profound' kind of stuff you see there all the time (and I constantly 'pin' :)
I mean meaty, chewy, really deep stuff.
Here it is:
Kelly Flanagan is a licensed clinical psychologist in Wheaton, IL. He is married, has three children, and enjoys reading, writing, and learning from his children how to be a kid again. He blogs regularly at drkellyflanagan.com, and this post can be found at (http://drkellyflanagan.com/2012/03/02/marriage-is-for-losers/).
This is worth the read! Please...if you skimmed over that article, PLEASE go back and read it.
You know that saying, God is rarely early but always on time? I don't know why I am always pleasantly surprised when He puts something in my way that I so need. This article was one of them.
Let's take a walk back a few days ago, shall we?
I'm channeling Sofia from Golden Girls as I begin.
Picture it...our house, 2012. I'd had another one of those days when I wish to do so much and have the energy to do nothing. My back hurt, I was tired, the kids were driving me nuts, and the house was destroyed.
Joe walked in from work and I could tell he already had a chip on his shoulder. he'd apparently had a crappy day too.
I laid on the love seat in the kids playroom and asked him to rub my back--an action that I KNOW will create a sigh and eye roll from him. At best.
So, he grudgingly started to rub my back and I don't even remember how things so quickly spun out of control from there.
Here are the nuts and bolts:
He had a crappy day
He came home to a messy house (which I know he hates)
The kids attacked him with a million requests the moment he came in the door
He was starving
He was tired
There was no dinner made
I asked him to rub my back
I was exhausted from never getting good rest
The kids demanded and drove me crazy all day long
My back--as usual--was killing me
As fast as I would clean the messes, the kids made more. I couldn't keep up.
Beyond feeding the kids, I HATE to cook (and Joe knows this. I admit that is a weakness of mine)
So a world war began. We both raised our defenses and readied for battle.
I was angry. He was angry. We said mean things to each other. Pushed buttons.
And then when I tried to push him out of the way so I could get off the love seat and stomp myself upstairs, he wouldn't move and I had to flop around like a fish on the shore to get up.
It had the same affect as spraying a hornet's nest with a hose.
I was humiliated, angry, and ready to claw his face off.
He was frustrated, angry, and trying (successfully) to let me know that.
With all the rage of a warrior and the maturity of a fourteen year old, I stomped upstairs and locked myself in my bedroom. I sobbed into my pillow and told God all the injustices in my life.
I'm hanging by a thread
I'm demanded of by my kids, my husband and the tiny human inside who always gets his first, regardless of whether or not I have anything left.
I'm over extended
I'm failing in so many areas
I'm crying out for support and get so little
I'm full of anger
I'm constantly riddled with anxiety
I'm fat and pregnant
My skin is a mess
My hormones are on overdrive
I didn't win the spelling bee in the 4th grade....
I poured it alllllllll out. Every last thing in the world that I could think of I laid on the table before God, trying to present my case of how unfair my life is and how badly I am treated.
I was justifying (to myself and to God) why I should be angry with Joe and tell him exactly how I felt.
He came to the door and asked to come in, but I screamed...yes, screamed...at him to Go Away. I'm telling you...this had all the makings of a Brady Bunch episode.
When I finally came out, and met the confused and apprehensive looks on my kids' faces, I calmly cleaned the bathroom.
I told you yesterday that I tend to clean when I'm upset or stressed.
And then Joe came upstairs and we had more words.
Let me cut this short and tell you it wasn't until MUCH later that night--and after I said some really awful things like, "I'm DONE!" and he responded with "Done with what?" And I defiantly pointed in his face and said, "Done with YOU!"-- that I finally went to him and hugged him and apologized.
I was awful. I was mean and I said those things to let him know exactly how hurt and angry I was.
I wanted to win.
Just like Dr. Flanagan said in his article, I wanted to win because I felt justified.
But truly winning is when I can express myself to him calmly and still tell him I love him-even when I think he is the biggest A-Hole this side of the Mason Dixon Line. :)
Winning is when I can still feel all those things yet keep my cool and know that this will pass. Like we always do, we'll carry on and find a way through this--but if we keep cool heads.
Not to mention our kids heard every. single. word.
IN fact, E (our 4 year old daughter) stood in front of Joe and told him he's not allowed to be mean to me. And M (our almost 3 year old son) put his little fingers over my lips at one point when I was yelling at Joe.
And a child shall lead them...
So, I learned a lot from this article. I hope you read it. It's grade-A, Class-act advice.