I do not understand my husband. Does that make me a horrible wife? Ugh. Most of the time, from my point of view, our sharply contrasting personalities overlap well. We balance each other out. He’s a right-angle kind of guy. I’m a slob. He plans. I like to live on the fly. When we have patience with each other, it’s great. Between the two of us, we think of everything, it seems. When we both refuse to try to see the other’s perspective, it’s ugly. For me, everything is ugly before 9 AM or so. To him, that is when the whole world is right, he can set his whole day up at perfect right angles. I refuse to acknowlege anything but a shower and coffee when I wake up. I don’t really want to change him. I don’t think he really wants to change me. Neither of us would succeed anyways.
I’m not writing this to make him sound like a bad guy. I don’t have any truly valid complaints here. Simply attempting to take a step back and look at annoyances from a semi-objective place puts mountains back on the scale of molehills. Which is the correct scale. I’m always astounded how minor disagreements can escalate into what feel like major battles, at the time. It’s silly. As anti-war as I am, I suppose I can see how wars start. Dedication to a righteous ideal without the ability to appreciate the opposition’s opinion is downright dangerous. Knowing how to push the other’s buttons is a deadly weapon.
I’m again reminded of the way my grandparents used to argue. Raised volume, each sure the other was wrong. Yet, they never actually sounded angry to me. As fiery and bitchy as they both could be, their marriage was an excellent example for me. Let all your fights be fought with love.