Progress and the Dog

Okay, I am not getting rid of my dog. I can’t do that. I feel like I’ve failed as a dog owner, but trainers have reassured me that we should regain control once we move. Now that that’s out of the way:


I’m not big on holding grudges. I’m not big on holding onto anger. In my experience, it seems to do more harm than good. This is what it is. I am well aware of the fact that it’s not going to be all unicorns and rainbows all of the time. My parents have been married 38 years in September and I witnessed first hand what happened when they stopped making an effort. Part of that effort is being willing to move through together and learn from the not so pleasant parts.

So much has happened in the past few days since the argument. Argument does not seem like the appropriate word. It was more like a blowout.

That same night, I emailed links to the article I used in the last post and another highlighting the stages of relationships and the power struggle stage. I let him know that I believe we can get through it. It will take some practice, but we can do it. His initial response was not promising.

The next day, SC ended up working a half day from home, so he was there when I got in. I’d already planned to see the final dress rehearsal for a play at our resident theater with our mutual friend, Franc. I needed to get out of the house and I think SC needed some time to himself. Actually, to be perfectly honest, I did not consider his feelings on the matter. I was going out. I later extended an invitation knowing SC would decline.

I moved about the house as I normally would. I let him come to me when he felt ready.

The conversation was the epitome of dealing with a Gemini. Both twins were there. One wanted to understand what happened and the dominant one wanted to hold a grudge FOREVER. He asked where things went south and let me know he probably would not understand. I reiterated the fact that I knew taking a five minute walk around the complex to breathe and center myself would have been enough to diffuse the situation. I’d put these actions on the table as tools to remain calm on my end and he denied me that moment of peace. Instead he expected me to sit there and take the barrage of verbal insults without reacting defensively, or emotionally.

I recounted the places where I felt I was responsible and the things I could have done differently. I told him that anyone, including him, would have responded the same way I did to verbal insults and definitive judgments. Problems are more easily solved when we address the issue as opposed to name calling. I told him that his words were full of contempt and distaste and it is a rare being who can stand up to that without going on the defensive.

SC denied any wrongdoing. “People always say that, but it’s not true. They’re wrong.” (Really? All of them? All of those people say the exact same thing about your method of communication, but they’re ALL wrong? I didn’t say any of this, but I thought it.) He moved to go inside, effectively ending the conversation where it stood, with him being right and me being completely wrong. I continued talking slowly and calmly. I’m not sure why. I had the feeling that things would be okay. The message was the same as it was before, but I saw something wash over SC and click that time.

He turned to me and said, “You’re right. I don’t know how to communicate when I am angry. I’m not sure what to do about that.”

We effectively ended the discussion there. There was no resolution on the table or even a course of action. When I got home from the dress rehearsal, he was passed out on the couch.

The following evening, Friday, he was moving about the cabin as planned. He called his friends to ensure that they’d be over to help finish packing up his apartment and handle any necessary repairs and painting.

I wasn’t confused, but it was like dealing with a different person.

I watched him talk himself down from what looked like a panic attack Sunday morning as the guys were loading the U-Haul. It got pretty bad there for a second. He kept telling me he was fine, but his breathing was labored, he was shaking, and his voice kept doing weird shit. He was panicked about bringing so much stuff to the house and the emptying of his place. Still, everything has either been moved to storage or to “our” condo until we move.

I will probably have a panic attack of my own when we start moving everything out of my place into the new place. We’ve lived at our respective places for over three years. This move requires putting faith in the fact that we will be okay, that we made the right decision. Part of making the right decision means knowing that the cards don’t always just fall into place. We have to put them there.

On our way home from a long Sunday of moving SC turned to me and said, “I know we can do this. We just have to be patient. I see why people take all of the time to decide to get married and another year to work out the logistics, but we did it the way that worked for us. It might be a little bumpy, especially over the next 30 to 45 days while we execute our move. Promise me you’ll hang in there with me.”

I hope that means he will hang in there with me. There’s more to this, I’ll address it later.

I have no conclusion for this. Last week was the most confusing I’ve experienced in a long time.




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