A bit of background: Matt and I have been married now for four months (!), and it has been wonderful; although, as you know from reading, not without it's ups and downs. Our dating history is quite a tapestry of similar ups and downs, to summarize - eight years of "will they, won't they?" with a dash of, "we-can-never-be-friends-but-oh-I-can't-quit-you"-esque feelings. We dated in high school, and then several years later (and hundreds of life lessons and growth adjustments later), dated again, in our mid-twenties, which led to our *blissful* nuptials in October 2009.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
A Bit of a Meltdown...
Since this blog chronicles my revelations as a newlywed, I find the subject of this post fitting, and perhaps over due.
So, last night, at midnight (my prime hour for emotional melt-downs) Matt and I had an argument about school work (his) and how I felt it's subsequent mis-management was cutting into our together time. Like any good argument, this really seemed to be just a 'watershed' topic that unearthed a deluge of feelings and unspoken insecurities in me (in all fairness, I had no idea that they were there) that lead to me blowing up and storming out of our room to 'sleep' on the couch. No, I didn't stay there, but being the always dramatic woman that I am, it seemed like a great idea for oh, five minutes, at which point the combination of our cat pestering my bare feet and the fact that I had to fold up like an accordian to accomodate my height within the confines of our couch brought me back to bed; plus, it should never end this way - I'm petty but not THAT petty (plus I hate when arguments are unresolved). As I went back to bed, we had one more 'discussion' that didn't seem to allay any of the anxiety that seemed to be plaguing me. I lay there, in the dark, just stewing over the entire argument, hurt that he didn't make enough time to spend even two hours with me (let the record show, though, that we spent the ENTIRE weekend together - which is usually not even possible due to work schedules).
And that's when I realized, I had a deep fear that he might fall out of love with me - that the passion and the romance I had come to know in our relationship might fade, or worse yet, come to a point of complacency. On the day of our wedding, the idea of forever seemed filled with possibility as I was filled with the most amount of love I had ever known at that point, but in the present moment, during the night, I was filled with this sense of forever being such a long time to love someone, and that in my mind, it made more sense to grow tired of someone, versus being able to love then any more. I don't claim to have been thinking clearly at this moment...in fact, I think that's what fear does - it creates this anxiety that forces us into survival mode which thereby discounts the nuances and subtle flavors that color our thoughts and feelings that are truly present in life. Furthermore, fear prevents us from the realization that perhaps love isn't rational on paper, and that like anything truly meaningful it can't be quantified, explained - or predicted. It was at this point that I burst into tears and it all poured out: my fears, my anxiety - I'm not sure it was even discernable words, just a trail of unintelligable sentences punctuated by sobbing breaths. I'm pretty sure it was one of those really ugly cries, but the lights were off, so thankfully we'll never know. Unfortunately, in this moment of truth and despondence there was nothing anyone could have said to make me feel better; I think I just needed to cry it out.
This morning, I awoke, still feeling the 'hangover' of last night's emotional binge, and I'll admit, it was pretty hard to get past my open sores of insecurity and kiss Matt goodbye, but I knew it wasn't really about him at this point, it was me, and I didn't want to leave for work on that note.
It being a slow day at work, I was surfing Facebook, when I realized Matt was online. I 'IM'd' him, feeling sorry for how I left that morning, "I love your face." Not exactly poetic, but awkward statements are more my style. I apologized for last night, and put into ACTUAL words what the root of last night, I thought, was really about, to which he replied:
"You're my muse,
my archetype of womanhood,
my higher calling,
the yin to my yang,
my precious dove,
I will never
exhaust the power of you."
I will forever keep this as a constant reminder to never let that insidious fear cause me to doubt what I know in my heart to be the truth.