In the past few weeks, I’ve had some family issues come up that have been rather troubling. In fact, they are the majority of the reason I haven’t been posting as often as I’d like, because these problems have made me very sad, and I’ve always had a hard time reconciling how to deal with sadness and anger and not let it absorb my daily life.
So, like I always do, I allowed these issues to completely consume me for a few days. My husband tried to humor me at first, but the depth of my obsession made him pull away after the first 24 hours. The family members I was arguing with kept coming back with their defenses so quickly that I felt astounded at how they could justify their actions and had to sever the conversation or I was going to say something I really regretted. I couldn’t say anything to anyone else about the issues, because that would betray an innocent party and propagate malicious rumors.
I felt consumed by hate. I felt consumed by bitterness. I felt consumed by injustice. And as I sorted through these emotions and cursed those that I felt abandoned me, I realized why my husband had withdrawn. He felt the exact same way as I did about the way the situation happened, but his coping mechanism is the exact opposite. While I hold everything close to my heart and force myself to relive each hurt until I’ve been able to process the emotional trauma, he pushes everything far away so he doesn’t have to deal with it at all.
Now, seriously, both methods have some serious drawbacks. But I envy him his method. Why? Because mine involves a lot of emotional roller coaster riding, where no one wants to talk to me and I feel like a crazy woman for a few days. Thankfully things like this happen rarely, because I always feel so alone until I’m over it, but I’m always amazed when I emerge at how many people are there to love me and show me comfort.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Cut Off.“