We’ve had a crazy couple of weeks. We came home from a very intense weekend away for our anniversary to a couple of weeks of being insanely busy. The sexual physical intimacy has been different, for many reasons, which was contributing to a feeling of disconnectedness as well as confusion on my part (more coming in another post). Then, after a pretty decent sized fuck up on my part, M and I have had some ongoing conversations that touched on so many issues, seemingly one after another.
When I fucked up, I did it in a grand fashion. When we returned from our trip, we had some home improvements to scurry and finish due to an upcoming appraisal. Add to that children’s activities and other life circumstances, and life was hellishly busy and exhausting. At the end of the week, we had a window of time alone. I had expectations in my head for how I thought that evening was going to play out, expectations I assumed due to tidbits of conversations between M and I. Not details, I never know those, but I thought since our children were going to be gone, that there would be some kinky fuckery going on. I thought it would be a priority, since we’d been so busy and distant feeling for a week. I had an overwhelming need to connect in that way, or so I thought. When I realized we would be going straight to dinner, instead of simply asking to talk about it, my feelings got the best of me. I clammed up and tried to stuff it away, with the expectation I should be able to let it go and go with his lead. Problem is, when I get emotionally overwhelmed, I either overflow (think tears and emotional vomiting) or shut down. I cannot pretend those emotions don’t exist, not any more. I don’t need to be right or get my way, I just need to be heard. Instead of bringing it up in an appropriate manner (preferably without a waterfuckingfall of tears), I tried to let the evening play out. You can probably imagine how that went…..
I felt barely contained and hurt, the hurt being my own doing. I felt disappointment and I never even gave him a chance to speak. My smiles were forced and the calm I had was silent acceptance of a place I thought I needed to be in, but not one I’m comfortable with, if that makes any sense. Some expectation I have of myself and my submission that just doesn’t fit.
In the end, the conversation we had after an underwhelming dinner brought up so many things we needed to talk about and was a catalyst for many more such discussions. I’m not angry I spoke up, not in the least, I need to be heard. It’s the way I do it that pisses me off and makes me feel terrible for putting him through all that. I don’t necessarily believe it’s that I need to find a balance of what to say and when to say it…I know when I need to work something out on my own and when I need to speak up, have my voice heard, or ask for help with something. It’s that damned delivery method that keeps tripping me up, but I’m learning.
And those other issues…….those I’m still trying to make sense of……