I had a chat with Jeff last night. Well, not so much a chat as a crying-and-babbling-and-at-time-incoherent discussion. I hate that I can't talk to him about serious things without crying. I had planned for days what I wanted to say and how I wanted to say it, but, of course, that all flew out the window when the tears started weling up in my eyes.
Anyway, in between the tears and the nonsensical babble, I managed to relay to him that I am currently overstressed, overwhelmed, and frustrated. Work is insanely busy, and travelling makes it even busier--add to that the health issues (diabetes, weight, high blood pressure, annoying spotting between periods thank to the new birth control pill I was switched to due to the high blood pressure...), and I'm just about to crack. I feel helpless and not in control and pushed to my limits.
I went on to ask that he please continue to help me out when he can (he vacuumed the house while I was away last week--gold star for effort, even though I still saw a few tufts of puppy fur blowing around). I thanked him for what he'd been doing lately (the vacuuming, plus he fixed a loose curtain rod bracket in the kitchen without me asking him to do it
). I apologized for being b!tchy at times, but all of this was why. And then I told him I sometimes felt it was difficult to talk to him about such things because he can get b!tchy, too.
We had gotten in a little fight over the weekend about going to Target. I wanted him to go with me to get a rug for under our kitchen table. He willingly went with me, but then he asked if I could drop him off at the book store while I went to Target. I told him no, that I wanted his opinion on the rug and wanted to look at some other things, too. He said he didn't care about the rug. Obviously, being a boy, he didn't realize there was more to it than the rug. I asked why he came along at all, and he said he came because I wanted him to. To which I replied, "If you're not going to go to the store with me, what's the point of coming at all? I'm a big girl and can drive in the car by myself." He didn't have a response for that.
I KNOW he doesn't care about the rug. But I don't care anymore. I told him he needs to either just stay home with the puppies when I go shopping or come with me and pretend to like it. I told him it is OUR house, not MY house, so I wanted him to be a part of it and have a say.
So anyway, I said all this stuff to him last night, and (for once) he didn't get defensive or angry or upset. He just agreed to help me out and gave me a big hug. (And then the puppies had to break up the hug by jumping all over us and licking us.) I felt better to get things out, and I hope it all really sunk in for him. Only time will tell...
