Feeling: unwound
Listening to: quiet conversations
Reading/Watching: GG & VM

I think I've reached the root of one of our marital problems.

When I disagree with something my husband is saying, he assumes it's because I misunderstand him, and that he just needs to explain it more. And I try to explain that no, I get it, I just think that ____ and he explains more, and around we go until we're exhausted.

Because you know, I couldn't possibly disagree if I really comprehended what he was saying, right? If I understood his meaning, of course I'd trot happily along his line of thought and shed all conflicting opinions like stray hairs.

Grr. It's good that I finally found where the vicious circle begins. But figuring out how to end these spats without yelling or just giving up and bursting into tears of utter frustration is the next step, and I think it will be the harder of the two.

In other (slightly related) news, I have identified that I am a workaholic. I realize that I take on too much in an attempt to experience everything, achieve everything, please everyone, and save the day. But at the end of the day, I'm simply the woman who comes home bone-tired and snappish, and so sleep-starved that she cries when her husband wants to keep her awake the extra thirty minutes it takes to... celebrate the marriage.

Not good at all. Luckily for me (or him, really), the play is over, my frantic Christmas concert rehearsal schedule has wound down, and I intend to drop one of my three jobs by the new year.

The frantic-crying season has passed, and now I'm remembering how to snuggle against him and thank God I found the one who is patient enough to wait for me... even if I have been pushing the boundaries lately.

My mother told me a startling thing, that I first thought unnecessary, but then realized it was a warning against repetitive behavior: she said "Your marriage comes first. Your job, your friends, they are all important. But there is only one aspect of your life that you have committed to keep for the rest of your life. So remember that you have to work to keep it."

And I said I knew that already, but I didn't. I just know it now. Love is not a work of art, like a painting or a pastry that is carefully sculpted and then finished. It is a garden, constantly thriving, blooming and simultaneously growing weeds. You have to take care of it in order for it to continue bearing fruit.

I guess when we say those fancy vows, we sort of expect the weeds to stop growing. But they do anyway, usually in newer, weirder strains each time.

I realize I haven't blogged much in past months. I am going to try harder. It is good for me; it keeps the threads of my mind safely combed and tucked under. Same goes for all things in life: just because you're busy doesn't mean they stop needing maintenance.

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