Ceasefire

 I said to my husband this morning, "I feel like I have been through something, and I feel like I have come out the other side of whatever that was". It's hard to explain it further because I am not sure myself how to put words around a feeling I had that I had been asked to be something that I simply cannot be.

I tried. I really did. I had been asked, as a form of marital therapy, to become more of the person who initiates; more independent and autonomous. I felt a big fat loser for failing to become the aggressor, the more self-directed person - until - I remembered something that Deity had said to me more than a few times...

'Can a kitten suddenly transform to a tiger?' (He didn't say exactly that but that's a fair example of the things he would say to me.)

To digress a little, he would also say, "can a table have thoughts or feelings?' but that's another story for another day.

My husband has been wonderful over the past few weeks sitting with me, over a late dinner, or together on the couch, listening, listening and listening some more.

He could see I was confused, discombobulated, far outside the state I love best, equanimity.

No-one's patience is eternal and eventually he started making observations and asking questions. 

"Do you think you are regretting some behaviours and decisions?"

"Do you think you are being fair in your assessments?"

Honestly, we navigated a lot of territory, so I can't remember all that much of what he said and what I said, except that I felt a whole bucketful of shame for being me; some great qualities, some not so great qualities, like us all, but as well, a sense of shame for wanting what I want; union.

Lately, I had realized that I was bashing my head against a brick wall, the way someone might do when the frustration overwhelms. I came to see that was a useless exercise. My head was hurting, and I wasn't getting the result I wanted. The brick wall was still a brick wall. My head had had no effect on the brick wall, and it never would. Something had to change but it wouldn't be the brick wall.

Then, this morning, as I lay there in the dark, silent, it occurred to me. The revelation was this. I am sick of trying to be better than I am right now. Sure, we can all grow, bit by bit, but I don't want to fixate on this right now. 

Instead, why not focus on skills - to be a better cook, a better writer, a better gardener. Why not focus on that?

The moment I did decide to do this, it was as if my mind did a rejig, the way a washing machine will rejig to get the clothes balanced, and I began to feel calm and settled. It was almost as if all the 'parts' inside my head breathed a sigh of relief at once and said, 'Thank God, she's going to give herself a break. She's going to just be herself. Put down your weapons. It's a ceasefire.'

For the past few nights my husband has come to bed at the same time as me and he quietly massages parts of my body - arms, lower back, shoulders. It's a piece of heaven for me. I fall asleep like this, and I stay asleep until morning.

I want and I need, his solidity. When I have that, I feel submissive down to my bones. I feel me and I feel authentic. I feel whole... I feel wonderful.