Spill My Guts Day 2

As I sit here typing, my husband is cooking lunch. The smell of garlic makes it difficult to concentrate. I am extremely hungry and fortunate for having a husband who puts up with me AND cooks. Poor guy. He certainly didn’t know what he was getting into when he married me.

I wasn’t a full time artist when he married me, and I didn’t realize that I had ADD. I was a struggling single parent with a decent job, and I was working my way through school. He admired me for my struggles and for having a good head on my shoulders right up until reality hit.

The first sign that he had screwed up was when he experienced my first temper tantrum. I don’t remember what the argument was about, but I was throwing things and going out of my way to see how nasty I could be to him. Fortunately, he handled it like a champ. Rather than being drawn into my tantrum, he simply walked out without a word. He was gone for 3 full hours.

The first hour I was furious. How dare he walk out on me when I was so angry? I ranted and fumed and slammed cabinets and cried in fury.

The second hour I began to calm down and wonder where he was. I was still angry and crying, but relatively calm. I had ceased to kick and scream and yell like a child caught in the throws of the terrible twos.

By the third hour I had begun to worry. What had I done? Was he coming back? Oh my God! What if he’s left me for good? What in the world ever possessed me to yell and scream at him. He’s such a sweet, loving, and caring person. How could I?

Needless to say, by the time he got home I was a blubbering, apologetic mess. I was so very sorry. Please forgive me. I’ll never do that again.

As it turns out, I lied. I still do it occassionally. He still looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind, but he doesn’t buy into the anger. He clams up until I wind down and that works perfectly for us. I’m such a spoiled brat.

Ok, that’s it for now. I’ve got to eat. I hope I don’t forget to thank him for cooking. Surely I won’t. It only takes a second to get to the kitchen. I’m going to concentrate really hard so that I’ll remember to tell him. It really shouldn’t be this hard.

Hang with me folks. I’ll tell you all about his first encounter with my depression in my next post. It’ll be a doozy. Don’t miss it.