So What’s Really Going On Between Mr. MPB and I?
First, let me state that Mr. MPB caved on day 4 of the silent treatment and started talking me again. Since I’m a talker, the silent treatment just slowly kills me. We still have not a “real” discussion about the situation, but I’ll take what I can get at the moment.
Honestly, I think I know what the root of our recent problems are, or at least I know what I think the root of the problems are from my perspective. And I’ve decided to sort through my side of it all, here in blog land. Maybe, not my best decision since Mr. MPB tends to read this. But I figure that I need to sort out what going on in my brain, because I know at some point we will talk about all of this, because that’s just what we do. Which is a bit ironic, since I think this current lack of talking is actually the result of a few months of not talking enough about the things that really matter.
Honestly, I think it all started shortly after we got home from our Iceland trip. We had an argument about my blog. It was a weird argument in that he didn’t like a draft of something I had written about our trip, and he thought I should change it. But he couldn’t give me any constructive advice on how to change it. I have no problem with constructive criticism, but I don’t take well to plain old criticism. Anyways, he finally gave me some constructive advice, but he also stopped reading my blog because apparently he didn’t like how bothered I was by his opinion. Now, he’s read every single word I’ve ever written on here. That’s not a small feat because as of today I’ve written 926 post! Plain and simple, I was incredibly hurt that he stopped reading. And his lack of reading also meant we stopped discussing what I was writing about, and what others were commenting on. This blog has become part of our daily lives, and I felt so hurt that he didn’t want to be part of that. Anyways, eventually he started reading again, but the hurt has lingered.
And then, the night I was really sick, the night I went to the hospital, he was uncharacteristically unsupportive. I suggested early in the evening that I think I needed to go to the hospital because I felt so incredibly ill. And from my perspective, even though I’d voiced just how sick I was, he couldn’t even be bothered to check on my from time to time. In fact, I had to send him texts asking for water since I couldn’t physically get myself off the bathroom floor. In that moment it just didn’t feel like I had the caring and compassionate husband I’m used to. And then throughout not eating much for the next month, I struggled with even the basic of daily chores. I clearly wasn’t doing my part around the house (which I can only assume annoyed Mr. MPB, and rightfully so). Yet, I know I kept trying my absolute best – I made meals for him and little MPB even though I couldn’t eat them, I did all the laundry, I tried to keep the house clean, I continued to work full time to pay the bills, etc. It wasn’t perfect but I was trying, and yet I don’t think it was ever acknowledged or even appreciated just how hard I was trying.
And so, I think as a result of these things combined with my pure exhaustion, I stopped communicating my needs and wants. For better or worse, I didn’t feel like he’d really been there for me on a few major things so I started to withdraw (which is something I am known to do when I’m upset, which isn’t a good thing, but it is what it is). And so I stopped talking about the important stuff and somewhere along the line I felt like we just weren’t in sync like we normally are. It was as though we were dancing to different rhythms. And that’s never a good thing, as least as far as I can tell.
And then all the sudden we started talking on our drive last week and I tried to say all of this. But instead I was just a big giant jerk, which clearly got us no-where.
So, I guess, what I’m trying to say, is that I think a few months of dancing to different rhythms just caught up to us. And, while things suck right now, I know that this is all probably necessary to force us to find the same tune again.
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