Confession #2

Confession:

I expect my husband to read my mind.

The Unbalance:

Am I asking too much?... ok, probably. But in some small, and I'm sure ridiculous way, I feel justified. This Friday, October THEE 8th my husband and I went on our first date and began our journey of love, laughter and let's be honest here LOTS of miscommunication.

So, after knowing someone for 3 years, 2 1/2 of those years have been spent married, you'd assume that you would know each other pretty well.

Be able to finish each other's sentences.

Know, by the look on their face, how their day went.

How they like their undies folded.


How, one of you has a little bit of an OCD problem and has to buy everything at the grocery store in even numbers and that you don't argue about it. Ever.


You get the jist right? Ok.


My husband does not fall under this category. Each day feels like I'm trying to get to know him all over again and I'm trying to explain my life to him like on our very first Taco Time date.  Most likely because he's working on the computer or doing his homework.  So everything I say goes in one ear and out the other. Actually scratch that. I think my words travel across the room to his ear, hit an imaginary wall and then fall to their death, where I have to revive them later and try to force them back into the very ear that killed them. Tragic I know. Common? Every day of my life. My poor words march to their death like those flies that get snatched up by that Venus Fly Trap.  Lost forever, until the next day where another innocent fly meanders about and the same harrowing thing happens again.


So, who's to blame for making me expect a mind reading husband?


I blame romantic movies, at least in part.


Have you seen the movie Only You? It's about a girl who is convinced her soul mate is man with a certain name that she heard from a fortune teller.  She flies to Italy to find him, and another guy falls in love with her, but sees that she is determined to play this soul-mate thing out.  So he agrees to help her find the man.  They track him down at a hotel, and she sets up a date, and the guy who loves her (her true soul-mate) buys her a gift for the date. It's a pair of shoes. They are the right size. They are the right color. They are the right style. They are exactly the perfect shoes for the outfit she is planning to wear. Cinderella herself could not have possessed a more ideal shoe.


What man in the world can do this?!?!?!


This why those movies are so popular, by the way-because we all want to believe there is someone out there who could discern our every need, sometimes fulfilling needs we didn't even know we had.  And so we fall in to the trap of "If I have to ask, it doesn't count." or "If you really loved me, you would know what I wanted."


I also blame the way us females think. I think sometimes...(ok, most of the time) we get caught up in our emotions running our lives and we start to assume everyone this is way, running their lives with complicated emotion, I'm starting to realize though, men don't think this way. Possibly ever.


The other day I had a MEGA-breakdown. Something very silly and unquestionable NOT my husband's fault mad me upset.  Part of what I struggle with, with my PPD, is that I get fuming mad at the flip of a switch, most often over very menial things.  When we arrived home I informed my husband I was upset at him and felt like screaming. After a few hours of only a handful of words, I told him I needed to get out of the house and be alone for a bit and he told me to go take a drive.  I somehow arrived at K-Mart, where there were only a few people wondering the aisles as aimlessly as I was.  I bought some new jeans and a new hat, because I've decided to become a hat person.


Upon buying these things, (which by the way-didn't make me feel better) I got back in the car and headed home where dinner awaited me.  We ate in silence and my husband just stared at me.  When we were finished he asked me, "What's wrong? Why are you so mad and sad all the time?" Which began the waterfall of tears. I told him I didn't even know why I was this way and I was as confused as he was. I told him I felt terrified I would never overcome this roller coaster of emotion I'd been on and be myself again.  I went and laid down in bed where he followed me and let me stain my pillow with mascara.  I told him I couldn't explain it and asked him to say something, anything to help me feel better. He said, "I feel like everything is my fault."


Okay, now this was the wrong answer.


I try hard not to be a selfish person, but during this moment I felt entitled to be. I needed him to focus on me. I cried even harder. I went to grab my phone to call my mother who, without fail always has something wise to say that makes me feel better. When Will grabbed me and said, "Talk to me! I want to help! What do you want me to do?"


Finally my moment had arrived. I had an answer that would solve all our problems.


"I WANT YOU TO READ MY MIND! I'M STRUGGLING AND YOU DON'T SEEM TO BE LISTENING! ALL I WANT IS SOME SYMPATHY HERE!'


Then, miraculously, my husband showed up and get this...COMMUNICATED with me!


PRAISES!!


He said exactly what I needed to hear, and gave me some very easy, uncomplicated advice that made me give him kisses.


Think of this:


When I start stacking up empty milk cartons and cereal boxes until they perch unnaturally two or three feet about the brim of the kitchen garbage can, waiting for my husband to take it out to the trash.  After knowing each other for a mere 3 years, I have learned that my husband would do just about anything for me.  He runs hard and fast, like a train on a track, and the only problem is that if the track doesn't happen to go past the garbage can, he genuinely doesn't see the trash piling up.  So, I say, "Honey, could you please take out the garbage?" and he says, "Sure." And he does it. MIRACLE!


I admit part of me, really wishes he would just the initiative and look for things like that. But alas, I don't have a mind reading husband.


Finding The Balance:

Let's pause for a moment and take a second to think about this little incident.  Picture a scale if you will and put my silly tantrum on one side of it.  Now, on the other side, put a husband who honors his priesthood, who loves and serves the Lord, who works everyday at a slightly demanding and time consuming job, and who goes to school full time so that I can be home taking care of our daughter, who loves me enough to let me have some alone time when I need it, and who values my role as a mother and honestly wants to help me through my PPD.  Put all those things on the other side of the scale and you tell me, Do you think things are in place?  Do you think, in fact, that this might be my soul-mate after all?

In most relationships there's a whole bunch of good along with a pretty hefty dose of not-so-good. I think when we choose to focus on the good, it becomes easier to see each other as I believe our Father in Heaven sees us. And that my friends, is a much happier way to live.


So, do I wish my husband could read my mind? Yeah, that would be great.  Should I expect him to read my mind when he honestly doesn't have a clue what's going on? Nope, not ever. I confess, however, on my bad days it's really really hard to remember that.