Monday, April 21, 2008

"You dislike confrontations."

Ha-dee-fuckin'-ha! So funny that I should have done that test. That line came back to bite me a little over half an hour ago.

In the interest of self-improvement, instead of ignoring Alaskaboy's tone like I used to do, or trying to internalise and guess why, I actually confronted him. No whiny little girl voice, "Are you mad with me?" Straight up, balls out, and to the point, "Why are you pissed off at me?"

After a heated discussion that lasted approximately 5-10 minutes, he walked away to continue gathering the dirty clothes to take to the laundromat.

Furious, I looked down at my half finished snack, that I was no longer in the mood for, and packed it up. After sticking it in the fridge, I grabbed my sunnies, a water bottle and walked out with a slam of the door. It wasn't until I'd walked several laps of the courtyard that I realised he'd walked away, rather than say something he would later regret. Exactly what I'd just done. While I appreciate the sentiment, it infuriates me that he walks away without saying a word. He knows it enrages me, yet he hardly ever says "I need a time out" like he's supposed to. It shows how long it's been since we've had a real argument, he forgot to say timeout, and I forgot that walking away meant Timeout.

When I'd walked off most of my anger, I came back inside and asked him if he was calm enough to talk yet. No he wasn't.

So I sat down with my snack, and when he was finished with the clothes, he came and ate his. Total silence, other than his savage destruction of those poor defenseless strawberries and yoghurt. Since he was the one who walked away initially, there was no way I was going to open the discussion this time around. (Especially because the original reason for the argument was him being pissed off unnecessarily. I didn't help matters by getting pissed off in return.)

You see, I have the problem of trying to get the confrontation over quickly, so I start the peace talks first, every single time. Not this time, baby! His snack over with, he got up and grabbed the remainder of the supplies for the laundry run. I had the horrible thought that he'd continue this silent treatment, and just walk out the door. (Returning two and a bit hours later!) I burst into tears at the table, dealing with that thought and how it made me feel, rather than running to him and starting the pow wow.

I started my agreed upon chore, bleaching all the raw chicken contaminated stuff from defrosting a chicken yesterday in the sinks. And then was to continue on with the dishes. (Laundry together = RRAAARRGGGH, so we do seperate chores.) He asked me a question about how to wash the brand new skirt I'd worn last night for our early anniversary night out, (more about that later) I said forget about it for now.

The lump in my throat got bigger and bigger. I was lost as to what to do if he walked out without saying anything else. Luckily there was no need to do anything since he did come over and say "I love you", giving me a kiss before leaving.

Again, I cried my eyes out after he'd left, because we hadn't resolved our argument before then. After typing all this I know why he's gone ahead and done that now, he'd be stuck doing it last thing before bed otherwise. But I'm still angry.

I'm also proud of myself for being able to put the snack away in case I wanted to eat it later, for walking off the angry fit, for crying when I needed it, all of this instead of binging my anger away. Even though it enrages me, I am grateful for a husband that will walk away to get himself under control, rather than say regretful things or worse, hit me, in the heat of his anger.

I still loathe confrontation. Like so many other things evolving scary emotions, I'm doing my best to learn how to do it, all because of eating right. Intuitive eating rocks!

EDITED: 740pm. All sorted. We're cool again. Hooray!

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