God is always right so I should just get over it but sometimes it just burns my biscuits.
God warned me to watch my tone with my husband. Recently, I have noticed myself getting condemning in my conversation. My tone would say it all even though my words were innocent enough (funny coming from a women who HATES IT when Tanya speaks that way to me or my husband). I awoke one night from my sleep for no apparent reason. I didn’t have to go to the bathroom but I recognized that break in sleep as an interruption from God. Usually, I am ashamed to say, I fight to go back to sleep and end up awake in bed tossing and turning for hours trying to ignore Him. This time, I asked Him what He wanted of me.
I accepted what He was saying but did not wholeheartedly agree. It was not something I wanted to put into practice. So I didn’t.
I knew the consequences of such actions. Often enough, well-meaning matriarchs try to scare younger women into being nice to our husbands so they don’t cheat on us. I am not cut from that cloth. If the man is going to cheat, he is going to cheat. What I did or didn’t do can not be his reason for stepping out just like I can’t live in fear of the next action I take could lead him into another woman’s arms. HOWEVER, our treatment of our husbands can stress out already stressed out situations and thereby lead us, husband or wife, to justifying (adulterous) actions. I’m going to leave that subject alone for now and move on.
In my own strength, I tried to watch my tone. Unfortunately, I watched my tone in hindsight.
This evening, my husband informed me that I was mean. Now, let me explain something to you. The great sensitivity that my melancholia affords me takes great offense when someone says ‘I am not’ a anything. But I am also a choleric. And, in this case, the choleric won out. I am the type of chick that when you type me as something negative, I will own up to it because by your definition, that is what I am. So be it. So, tonight when my husband said I was mean, I did not go snotting after him trying to make up for his feelings of me. I said, “Well, I guess I am mean then.” I didn’t care. I went right on about my business.
Here is my flesh: I attribute crying and snotting after someone else to get them to change their mind about something I am as weak. So I don’t do it. If you think I am something, I will present my case to hopefully show you otherwise but if you don’t care to see where I am coming from then so be it. I will move on (choleric). I also (to my shame) attribute a man showing vulnerability as weakness. I am not attracted to weakness. It repulses me. I loath seeing people not do what they are capable of doing because they want, would rather, or choose to be helpless. It makes me sick.
As I replayed the evening over in my mind, the things leading up to his statement, I saw several clues I choose to ignore. My husband needed assurances. I don’t know why but he did. I often need assurances. The need seemingly arrives from nowhere but is incessant and will not go away unless it is assuaged and Brian never fails to grant them no matter how stupid they really are. I can call them stupid now because I am not in the throes of the emotion but at the time, they were pretty significant to me.
Instead of assuring him, I picked at him. I picked and picked and picked on purpose. I didn’t nag but I did not deliver any form of affection when it was well within my power to do so. I knew what he needed but I didn’t want to give it to him. I know this now, in hindsight because I prayed not too long after the incident and God revealed to me the root cause of my problem. Not surprisingly, the problem was me.
My tainted view of weakness resulted in me harming my husband. Because I did not heed to the Lord’s warning several nights ago, I blew a perfectly good opportunity to demonstrate love to my husband.
I like for my husband to be strong all the time. By strong I mean be my protector, my decision maker, and my strong shoulder to lean on. Any sign of indecisiveness, passivity, waning interest makes me nervous. I don’t feel sure of myself. When something feels unsure, for example and wobbly table or chair, the occupant will often check the supports to see what is off-balance. When I don’t feel secure, I too check to see what is off-balance. But instead of following Christ’s example and pull him in with gentle cords of love, I beat him with a verbal stick.
I want for my husband to be vulnerable with me. He needs to feel safe with me in every emotional state he may find himself in. I want to be his rock just as he is mine. In order to do this, I have to look past me feeling unsure and concentrate on giving him what he needs when he needs it.
Going upstairs to apologize now. #eatingcrow