Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Stew for One

Despite the conventional wisdom of "sleeping on it," or "waiting it out," I've found that for me, not expressing what I'm feeling with the speed of a gum ball popping out of a gum ball machine, is a recipe for stew.  And a stewing Annie is, unfortunately, also somewhat bitchy.

It started this weekend.  My wonderful bf did something that annoyed me, something small.  Normal Annie would say, "that hurt my feelings" but for some reason, I got the brilliant idea to "let it go."   My intentions were benign.  I love the guy and I figured, I'll just give him a break and forget about it, and we can go on having fun.   Except I wasn't fun.   I was a brat.  I shut down.  I was refused to speak anything but a monosyllable, one word, answer, because I was "letting it go."  And was afraid that if I spoke more I would word vomit and verbalize the evil little bit of hurt feelings that was kicking the back of my eyeballs, demanding acknowledgment.  And the problem persisted.   My bf picked up on my brattiness, didn't know where it came from, and poor guy, reacted by being nicer.  I mean, how rough do I have it with this guy?!  Yet was I placated?   No.  I was good and salty by now and hurt, too.   I thought, "Oh my gosh, is he only happy when I'm sad?!"  That wouldn't be good, right?  Yeah, but it wasn't the case.  He was just trying to cheer me up.

So keep in mind, by yesterday, I had been stewing about this for a good two days.   Instead of dealing with the reality of the situation, which was something small, in my mind I was chasing windmills, like a PMSing Don Quixote.  And the situation was becoming worse and worse, more hurtful and hurtful.  And then, as if I didn't have enough to deal with, Monday morning, I got a rejection letter from a job I had sort of been counting on. Sort of completely.  Even more troubling? My roommate was out of town and there was no one around to make sure I didn't hang myself with my bed sheet.

Everything's fine now...but last night was kind of rough. To cheer me up about my colossal job failure, my boyfriend invited me out to dinner.  I had a really brilliant strategy to never bring up my anger about the weekend to my boyfriend and "forgive and forget", but by two bites into dinner I was overflowing with things I wanted to say but hadn't (I'd had two days of planning out my argument passive-aggressively in the shower) and I was annoying myself, pretending not to be mad, when obviously I was, but then cryptically refusing to say what it in fact was about.   That's kiiiiinda not letting it go.  That's chinese water torture.  So we talked.  We had yet another discussion about our relationship (which my bf hates and I don't love but feel are necessary).  And something kinda awesome happened.  We were fighting...and I looked over, and I couldn't help it, while fighting I thought, "Oh my God, I am so in love with him."  Which melted my frigidity and helped me laugh and realize, yeah, shit's been tough, but it really ain't that bad.  

Main point?  I CANNOT let things go.   In other areas of my life that's called tenacity and it's a positive attribute that allows me to avoid procrastination.   In relationships, it might be most politely referred to as "pigheadedness" and less politely as "being a douchebag".   I'm not a perfect girlfriend, but I'm much more pleasant than when I'm being a self-righteous little crockpot.

Delicious for cooking, less productive in relationships.

No comments:

Post a Comment