Oh Yeah?

See if I care!

I’ve always been the rule enforcer.  The goody-two-shoes that tattled on everyone.  The one that nobody wanted to invite to parties because I would ruin all the “fun.”  I lost many friends because I didn’t like what they were doing.

And I married a gay man.

And I expected him to play by all the rules.

Yes, I’m controlling and manipulative and insecure and whiny and needy.  But how much am I allowed to be bothered by his behavior?  He is a good man trying to live a good life.  He is trying to find ways to not implode.  I get that.

But.

Why should it matter what he is doing as long as he is earnestly working toward keeping our marriage intact?  Why do I feel it necessary to judge his efforts?  Why do I jump on any tiny little indiscretion and use it as “proof” that he isn’t trying?  That I let it disqalify every good thing he has done?

I care.  A lot.  Probably too much.  I let it eat at me.  I let it fester and rot inside until I want to implode.  And then I take it out on him.  I’m pissed.  I’m hurt.  And I want him to hurt like I do.  I concoct all sorts of nutsy ideas as to how I’m going to give him pain.

But then the little voice inside becomes bigger and speaks reason to my soul and I stop.  Is this how I heal?  Is this process going to get shorter and shorter the more I allow that “little voice” to grow?

I’m still not happy about a few things.  I still don’t want to accept some behaviors.  I still don’t think I should accept some behaviors.  How hard do I push?  Do I push at all?  Would it serve me better to concentrate my efforts on NOT caring so much?

Let the little voice grow.

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One thought on “Oh Yeah?

  1. Thanks for the comment you left on my blog. It was very thoughtful of you.

    —-

    On my mission, I was always miserable when I thought my companion wasn’t doing what I thought he was supposed to. I was pretty anal when it came to following the rules. It got really messy when I was paired with a guy who was known for trying to run away. I almost wanted to give up and go home. He made it impossible to feel the Spirit and do the work. However, I think a lot of it was my fault, too. I wasn’t trying to understand why he was the way he was. I didn’t ask him why he called the sisters’ apartment when it was past sleeping hours. I just got angry and scolded him. That only resulted in two angry people. I think my best companionship was when I got a green-bean missionary to train. By this time I had mellowed out some and was not against taking short breaks between missionary work to go to a convenient store during the summer to cool off or during the winter to thaw out our limbs. I didn’t point out all his problems. He was already good enough at that. In fact, occasionally, he was bold enough to tell me–THE MOST OBEDIENT MISSIONARY–that I was not following a rule! Just kidding, I had my weaknesses and it was a great opportunity to make myself better, although I have to admit it left a bitter taste in my prideful mouth sometimes. Anyway, I have no idea what kinds of struggles you and your husband go through. I don’t know anything about marriage. I mean, a mission taught me this: if the thought of living with the same man for the rest of my life is this revolting (leave it to Mormon missionaries to show me how disgusting men can be), then maybe I still have a chance with a woman.

    Sorry, all this is going nowhere. But I want to thank you for being a role-model couple in the moho world. At this point, I don’t know if I’ll ever get married, but you and your hubbie make me hope I can. Thanks!

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