When I take out frustrations on my husband, I make amends. After telling my husband I was closing my door to write, I made a detour into the laundry room. My husband called out something to me from the kitchen. I’m hard of hearing without my hearing aids, which I hadn’t put in yet, and besides, we have agreed not to shout from other parts of the house. I turned around and went back into the kitchen with false patience to ask him to repeat himself.
Could I please check the dryer before I started writing? I glared at him. “I’m doing that now,” I said, and marched back to the laundry room. Why was I being so unpleasant?
I hated that I was being unkind
After checking my clothes, which were still a tad damp, I started back down the hall, an apology on my lips, but passed the kitchen where he was painting one small section of the wall over the stove and under the cupboards and instead went straight to the antique clock in the living room to wind and reset it. I thought of re-passing the kitchen without saying anything, but hated how sour I was feeling, hated that I was being unkind.
I retraced my steps and stood at the kitchen entrance.
“I’m sorry I glared at you. I’m just frustrated with myself and I’m taking it out on you.”
He paused his paint brush and looked at me with nothing but compassion. “What are you frustrated about?”
“Oh, not taking life on life’s terms; feeling dissatisfied with my life just because what if I misinterpreted that angel reading that suggested I write my life story. And because it’s so hard being a writer. There are millions of writers out there all of us looking for readers.”
My husband is my best friend. I shouldn’t treat him so poorly, but sometimes I do.
“But you love writing,” my husband said. “Why not do it just because you love to?”
He’s right, of course, and I told him so.
We hugged. “You can have the dryer now,” I said. “My clothes are probably dry.”
“Thanks for saying something,” he said as I was halfway down the hall.
My husband is my best friend. I shouldn’t treat him so poorly, but sometimes I do, and then I make amends. We’ve been married for over forty years. Something about our relationship must be working. I think it’s mutual honesty, vulnerability, and saying “I’m sorry,” when we’ve been unkind that makes the difference.