Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Crazy Conclusion

I've been evaluating lately. Why am I acting crazy? I think it all boils down to the fact that I like to plan things. I've never been much for spontaniety. My husband, however, likes to fly by the seat of his pants. He'll decide to build a shed, and then just build it.

I wondered for a while whether to post this story. I wrote it down quite a while ago, but the time never seemed right. I think, however, that it's good background for my current state of mind/craziness. So here goes. Try not to judge; keep in mind that I was young.

My New Year's Eve breakdown:

It was New Year's Eve, 2005. Phillip and I had been dating for 5 1/2 years now. He was working his first full-time job; I was home for winter break during my senior year of college.

Phillip was never very good with talking about the future. He preferred to live in the now. I, however, liked to worry. I liked to have a plan. I had goals.

New Year's Eve we planned to go to two parties that different circles of friends were throwing. We were at the age where a celebration involves drinking & drinking games.

Who am I kidding, we're still at that age sometimes.

By the time we got to the second party, I was well on my way to being D-R-U-N-K. I'll never understand why I thought it would be a good idea to drink a bottle of champagne. Andre, no less. (For those of you reading this post who have never known the joys of Andre, prepare to never want to drink it. I am sacrificing my pride for the well-being of all of you. You're welcome.)

Andre makes me do silly things.

We finally wrapped up the party, and headed to my parent's house. Phillip walked me into the garage.

Where I proceeded to collapse into a crying heap of ridiculous girlishness. I had tried to respect his whole "I don't want to worry about the future/when it happens, it happens" motto, but I couldn't take it anymore.

Fueled by copious amounts of Andre and various other liquors, I proceeded to tell him that I couldn't stand the fact that he didn't even want to talk about getting married, like it was some horribly taboo subject. He couldn't look past the next few weeks. Most of all, I was hurt by the fact that he was hurting me by ignoring my feelings on the subject.

Well, that's basically what I said. To be perfectly honest, I don't remember the word for word dialouge. See note about Andre above.

I can still see the exasperation on his face, because he just didn't understand. I realize now that I didn't need him to understand; I needed him to realize that my feelings were important too. I needed him to realize how much it hurt me not to talk about it.

Then Phillip left. I felt devasted that night. For so long, I had walked the precarious line of hiding my feelings and being certain not to mention anything about houses, marriage, or kids to him. Or to anyone else. To him, my feelings were completely irrational. We were happy right now, weren't we?

What he couldn't see (and what I was afraid to say), was that no, I wasn't happy. I had watched my parents' marriage crumble around me in large part because they did not communicate with each other. I had fears, real fears, that it would be just as easy for us to collapse. By not talking about our future, he confirmed those fears in my head. I was afraid that by sharing my feelings, I could lose him.

It took some liquid courage for me to spill my guts (literally, but that's another story) and tell him that this was eating me up inside.

Although I've regretted many times how the conversation came about, I have never regretted finally sharing what was on my mind.

He still thought I was a little irrational about the whole thing, but I needed to put everything on the table. I needed him to know that I had a plan. I wanted US to have a plan. That's just a part of my personality.

Another part of my personality is bottling. I bottle my feelings until they explode. That's what happened on New Year's Eve almost 3 years ago.

Definitely not the high point in our relationship, but an important event for me. Since then, I have tried to be more open about how I am feeling, and why. I have been largely unsuccessful (bottling is not something that can be switched on and off easily!) but I am trying.

Which is why this whole children thing is really messing me up. I decided a while back that even if he wasn't ready, I was, and there was no reason for me not to talk about it or to feel awkward talking about "when we have kids." It's kept me relatively sane.

P.S. Phillip proposed to me 22 days after that episode. He said he wanted to wait until my birthday weekend, to surprise me. (Again with the surprises.) So it's very likely that my little NYE outburst had nothing to do with it. I hope it didn't, anyway.

But it makes me wonder, as I re-read this story this morning, am I unconsciously giving myself mini panic attacks because my mind thinks that it helps me get what I want? And if so, how crazy does that make me, really?

And part of me wonders (the stupid part) if maybe he's going to tell me on my birthday that he wants to have kids? Just wishful thinking, I guess.

Alright, I think that wraps up my little saga. No more crazy talk for the rest of the week, I promise.

2 comments:

  1. Yup, I'm a total planner, too.

    My problem is that, when things don't go according to plan, I have a meltdown. I need to be mentally prepared for whatever may come, and if I am, then I can handle just about anything. But if I'm not, I become a hysterically crying mess.

    It's good to hear that you guys communicate so well. I agree with you - absolutely critical in marriage.

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  2. Been reading your posts for a couple days now, writing comments then deleting them. I think I've finally decided that I just have too much to say about this to fit in a comment. Just know that feels a little nuts every time this subject comes up.

    I'm right here with ya.

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