The Epiphany, Part 2.

I forgot to mention in the last post that the Saturday before this turning point that was Monday, Feb 10th, I had explicitly told my husband that if we were going to do anything (I repeat, ANYTHING) for Valentine’s Day – then HE would need to be the one to plan everything and take control.

Why am I mentioning that?

Because it is a critical component of this epiphany.

Duh.

I told him that if he did not want to plan anything, I was totally fine with not doing anything. And if he didn’t plan anything – we were going to stay home, and watch TV in our jammies while we surf our phones next to eachother.

I have just been getting to a critical point in my mental health where I am realizing that I am the one in charge of scheduling everything.

And by everything – I mean everything. Even down to who needs to watch the kids, when kids are being picked up, reminding people to give the kids their meds when I am not home, making sure every single person of our 8 person household knows exactly where they need to be and when, etc.

You know how some people have a bazillion alarms set on their phones to help them wake up out of the most comfortable place in the world?

Well I have 2. But not my point.

I have 18 calendars that I have to keep track of (+1 that I am not in charge of).

I share each and every calendar, with each and every individual that it pertains to.

After I share it – I should not have to remind them to look at said calendar. But does any one in my family ever look at a calendar that they do not orally hear straight from my mouth.

Phew. That felt good to get off my chest.

Ok where was I heading?

Ah yes, so I told my husband he was in charge of all plan making for Valentines Day or we weren’t going to do anything.

I love this man. I have been with this man going on 15 years. So I can coincidentally say I was 92.763% of the time…..he will not make any plans and I will be the one to make alllll the arrangements.

So pre-Monday plot twist, I was aware that I would need to come up with something to do for Valentines day (keep this idea in your back pocket…it will come in to play later in my story).

I mean…..we havent had a true date in about 3 years (Another story for another day).

Moving on. It is not Monday Night.

Envision me walking in to my house for the first time in over 13 hours, and hastily cooking my breakfasts so that I can pick up B since it is Monday night and it is my turn to pick her up.

Knife in hand. Chopping up sweet potatoes. Which require intense pressure because they are not super easy to cut thru.

Burners on. Hot oil and onions in one pan, sausage cooking in the other.

And my husband asks tells me that I need to pick up the kitty litter because he always does it and he doesnt want to do it tonight and the cats are hungry.

Meanwhile, I am holding steadfast to my position that I will do it tomorrow.

And that is when it happened.

“You are being lazy,” he said confidentaly and courageously.

I stopped what I was doing. Large knife still in hand.

In my mind, I am thinking this can go 2 different ways.

The last decade me would react and escalate this situation.

The new decade me, looked him in the eye, took a deep breath, and went back to cutting sweet potatoes.

I think.

I mean, that’s what I imagine I remembered happening.

Meanwhile, he stormed out, and had to go pick up pizza.

Oh that’s right. He didnt want to get the cat food because he had to pick up the pizza….which is right across the street from the cat food.

My rationale, was that he knows exactly what to get and walks way faster than me.

His rationale was that he had to get the pizza after working hard at work (which I understand, he is a mechanic and physically moves ALOT).

Anyways. He stormed out the door.

And then the guilt texting began.

Ok, so the past decade me still exists.

And my husband and I are FANTASTIC guilt texters.

But….I’m not going to share the words that were shared between us in those brief moments.

Instead, he walked out the door.

And I finished cooking.

I ended up giving in. Very, extremely, reluctantly. But I gave in. And I bought the cat food. Angrily. But I bought it.ans I picked up B. And we drove home. But I was tense. But I drove home, thinking deeply about what my next moves will be.

I got home. I was dead tired. Mentally, and physically.

I got home. I chucked the car food on my right shoulder, closed my car door gently. And I walked home.

I walked right past dinner.

I was not hungry. At all.

But I walked past dinner, opened our front door, set the cat food down gently, took off my coat, went to the laundry room, found my pajamas and went upstairs.

I am going to bed, I tell the humans in the house.

Loves hugs and kisses, an and an air smooch ended with a wakanda style hug, I give to each kid.

I get my CPAP machine ready, I make the bed (yes. I make the bed at night. Because I cant exactly make it when my husband is still snoring and covered in dogs at 424am).

I go to turn off the lights, and suddenly realized that I forgot the cat food downstairs.

Still quietly serious, remaining calm cool and collected, being the bigger person and chewing my tongue off, I slyly walk downstairs.

And I expertly passively aggressively picked up that bag of cat food that I was supposedly too lazy to purchase.

I walked back up stairs.

Loudly arguing with the bag, purposely struggling, and very intentionally remaining calm about finally ripping a hole in the bag that all 4 cats are now staring at.

And I go to bed. At 717PM

And I wake up the next day, at 3AM. And start a brand new day.

So I am going to give you a little background in how our marriage works. Because, it truly works for us and if one of these pieces is out of whack or missing…. well we have learned just to make sure we fight hard to be in love, just as hard as we fight.

For the first years of our relationship, eons ago, we fought. Passionately, insanely, brutally. Ok well not actually brutally.

(There were ZERO instances of feelings of mental/physical abuse. And there still are none. And yes. I am being serious. I swear on my grandmother’s grave)

Moving on.

We were good, no fantastic, at fighting ugly. And I was even better at guilt trips. Man….if guilt was an Olympic Sport, I’d get a medal.

Anyways. We learned that we loved eachother so much that we had to figure a way to keep the peace. Even when we REALLY didnt want to.

I even credit where we are now, with taking a parenting class before B was born, 11 years ago. It really helped us understand the building blocks on how to have a healthy relationship.

So fast forward to now, we have a few unspoken rules.

1. We never go to bed angry.

2. Once we realize we are wrong, we apologize.

3. If we are fighting in front of the kids, we must ALWAYS apologize in front of the kids.

4. Fight just as hard to be in love as we fight.

5. And, always remember that we are a team and we are there for eachother no matter what.

I also wanted to clarify the term “fight/fighting”.

I dont mean that in your scream/shout/physical. I learned from my grandparents house and watch them

My husband and I learned from the best.

You call it fighting. We view it as bickering.

And man……if bickering were a Team Olympic Sport…..everyone can just go home now and forfeit.

With all that being said, I went to bed and broke all 5 of our unspoken rules.

And that, my friends, is where I must end this post and actually interact with my husband that is sitting next to me driving.