Sometimes I have difficulty asking my husband for what I need because I don’t yet know what it is I want. I beat around the bush, unable to say even to myself what I need because the words haven’t formed in my mind yet. They lay in my heart like a cautious animal, waiting for a sign that it’s safe to come out.
Let’s just pretend my husband and I were baking cookies together when a lump of dough dropped on the kitchen floor, and he didn’t bend over to pick it up. I waited for him to. When he didn’t, I was uncomfortable. I wanted him to do something, but he didn’t. “I’m just curious,” I said. “How does that make you feel to see the dough on the ground? Does it bother you?”
“Oh, it didn’t register. I’m not going to catch it all the time,” he said.
Well, it had registered with me! But I was trying not to take responsibility for his actions, trying not to tell him what to do.
Later that evening, my husband was reading in bed while I was still puttering around. “Can you come sit for a moment?” he asked, patting the space next to him. “I want to talk about what happened with the dough.”
I rounded the bed and nestled on the edge next to his legs. “Yes, because I want to make amends.”
He looked surprised. “Amends? For what?”
He looked surprised. “Amends? For what?”
“For not being straight with you. For not telling you I was uncomfortable.”
“Let me go first,” he said. “I’m sorry I was so glib. I shouldn’t have been. It really didn’t bother me about the dough. I didn’t realize it had happened, but I didn’t have to brush you off like that. I could see you were upset.”
I started to tear up but stopped myself. “I felt unsafe. I was afraid one of the dogs might eat it and then they’d get sick and vomit in the night. I remember the last time she ate cookie dough. I don’t want to go through that again.”
And then it hit me what I wanted to ask my husband. What I had wanted to ask all along but didn’t realize I could. But this is what two people who love each other do. They ask each other to make sacrifices. They don’t tell them they must. They just ask and accept the yes or no that comes. But they have the vulnerability to ask.
I have finally learned I am worth taking care of myself.
“This is what I want.” My husband waited patiently with compassionate eyes. “I want you to notice when dough drops and to pick it up right away. Even if it doesn’t bother you or it’s just a tiny lump. I want you to do that so I can feel safe”
My husband nodded as if this was an entirely reasonable request, for which I was relieved and grateful. “I can do that. For both of us. For me, especially, because I should notice. It’s not good for me to not notice.”
We kissed.
“Thank you,” I said. “I feel safer.”
So, taking care of myself means asking for what I need, for what makes me feel safe. Or I need or remove myself from what feels like an unsafe situation, and this marriage is a situation I don’t want to remove myself from.
I have finally learned I am worth taking care of myself; I am worth using my voice and making my needs and wants known, even if they seem absurd. I need to pay attention to the little child whose needs were ignored. And my husband, in this instance, was fine with that. He wants to take care of me, the dogs, and himself, too.
So, it all worked out, and now I can enjoy making cookies with my husband without worrying about dropped dough. I asked for what I needed. He’ll notice and pick up any dough that drops on the floor, and our love, and my safety and comfort continue.