This past week was pretty rough for me. I got to a low point I haven't been to in a while. You might know the one I'm talking about, the one no one else knows about and you dare to mention. You put on a happy facade for everyone, while inside your guts are churning and hopelessness is slowly taking over. Not a pleasant place to be I admit and even worse to just admit I was there to the world.
I thought I was hiding my frustration and anguish pretty well. I was determined to keep it covered. I was fighting myself; part of me wanted to hide in a corner while the other part of me seemed aware of my darkening depression but was powerless to stop it. Then Thursday came.
Thursday I started my final revision to my English essay, but it all just seemed wrong to me. My sources weren't strong enough to support my thesis; my points and explication didn't seem quite together; my annotation was basically the same poem in different words, although it was a straight forward poem to start with. This, however, was just the superficial issue. Deeper and darker problems were churning below the surface. Problems I will not discuss here.
That evening, the stress finally broke me. I lashed out at Thomas, giving him the best Hell-hath-no-fury I could muster. My misery wanted company. Through the haze of my depression, everything he did was wrong. Every word was wrong. What he didn’t do was wrong. His opinions, his feelings, his attitudes, all wrong. I was bound to let him know in great detail how he had failed me. If only I could foretell the future...
At first, he was defensive, stammering back excuses, all of which infuriated me further. With each excuse, I cut into him a little deeper. He finally had enough! Suddenly HE was on the offensive.
I have said to many people multiple times Thomas keeps me grounded; he knows how far to let me fly before my wax wings start to melt. Thomas knows me, sometimes better than I know myself. He has this uncanny ability to be there at just the moment I fall apart to catch all of my falling pieces, and he knows just how they all fit back together. This was no exception. When defense didn’t work, he took the offense. But not to seek vengeance. Thomas sought only to break the cycle I was in, to draw my attention to him in a different way.
Slowly Thomas talked me down, drawing out shreds of my truth one piece at a time. He was once again catching my pieces. Somehow, he suddenly had all the right words. He carefully began putting my pieces back together again. He opened himself, his very soul, up for me to see. He shared with me a few of his most guarded thoughts. He told me how he needed me. HE needed ME!
I went to bed that night emotionally exhausted. The next morning, my depression didn’t seem as dark when I awoke.
I’m not claiming Thomas “cured” me. I’m still climbing back out of my dark place. I’m not even sure if he was aware of what he was doing, from a psychological point of view. All I know is that if you look really closely, you can see the workings of a really awesome marriage. What makes it so awesome is that we know each other, inside and out. I can tell at a glance from across a room what he’s thinking. He knows where I’m heading before I am aware I have even started going. We can finish each other’s sentences. We know for the most part how the other will react to nearly anything. And it didn’t get that way overnight. It took us 13 years to get where we are. It took nights like Thursday for us to learn each other so intimately.
And I know, this is not the last battle we will ever have. There will come a time when I will forget the awesomeness Thomas carries within, and he will again become my target. I know, though, that he will be there for me because he has proved that he will.
My husband is amazing! I can truly say he is my better half.
No comments:
Post a Comment