The Perfect Storm
Michael arrived home late last night. The kids were already in bed and I wasn’t far from sleep myself, cuddled up on the couch under a blanket. He came over to give me a kiss, but I was watching the end of one of my favorite shows and there was only 3 minutes left. I held my finger up to say wait a minute and gave him a quick peck. He went into the other room to take his jacket off and came back a couple of minutes later and stood watching the beginning of the news. After a few minutes, I got up to give him a hug and kiss, but one of the dogs was busy licking his face. I huffed off and sat down at the computer.
A minute or so later, Michael came over and wanted a kiss. I held my hand up to him. I was in the middle of typing something and, truthfully, I wanted to make him wait. He hovered over me, patiently waiting if you ask him, impatiently waiting if you ask me. I gave him a kiss and he asked me if there was any taco meat left. I didn’t answer, and after a minute he said that he loved me. I told him that he could look for himself and I ignored his declaration of love. He headed for the kitchen and asked me what my problem was. I decided that I didn’t particularly like his tone of voice and didn’t reply. I proceeded to shut the computer down and headed upstairs to go to bed. I was upset and didn’t want to fight, and that’s the direction things seemed to be going. I knew that I needed to chill out, but it just wasn’t happening right then.
The truth is, this was kind of the perfect storm. I was just getting over my monthly cycle…which I’d had for two weeks. Yeah, something is off…it started up, was lighter than normal, then stopped completely and then came back, heavier. (sorry for the TMI guys) Ick. As if having it once a month like usual isn’t bad enough. Needless to say my hormones were all out of whack. And, I’d started with a migraine that afternoon. I’d taken meds and a nap and the headache was almost gone, but I still didn’t feel that great. As for Michael, he’d had a long day and things at work weren’t going well. He wasn’t even supposed to be home, but because of the way things had played out, that’s where he found himself. He was stressed out, tired and hungry.
Anyway, I was upstairs getting ready for bed when I realized that I hadn’t grabbed the plug for my phone. Ugh. Back downstairs I went. I managed to avoid Michael, who was still in the kitchen, grabbed what I needed and back upstairs I went. I climbed into bed and realized that I was really thirsty. I knew that I needed some more water. I always need plenty of water when I get a migraine. I don’t know if I’m dehydrated to begin with or if I need it because of the meds or what, but the extra water always helps (along with darkness and quiet). I didn’t want water from the bathroom sink. I wanted a bottle of water cold from the fridge.
So, back downstairs I went. I had to go into the kitchen, where Michael was, standing at the counter, eating tacos. I don’t honestly remember what was said or who said something first, but heated words were exchanged. I grabbed my water and was going to head back upstairs, but I didn’t get far. I stopped myself in the living room and stood, leaning against the wall, watching tv. I knew that I needed to do something, to say something. As upset as I was, I knew that I’d started this whole thing and I really didn’t want to fight. I gave myself a few minutes to calm down some and walked back into the kitchen and apologized.
That didn’t go over so well. I guess Michael wasn’t ready to move on. He was obviously still upset too. He said that he didn’t know what had happened anyway…that he’d tried to give me a kiss and I had made him wait and that he might as well have been talking to the dogs since I couldn’t be bothered to respond to him. This just set me off. I had started to walk away after apologizing. I was just going to say that I was sorry and then go up to bed. But, when he raised his voice at me, I lost it. I came back into the kitchen and told him that I didn’t appreciate being yelled at when all I had been trying to do was apologize. I slammed my hand down on the counter as I was talking to him, no, yelling at him, making sure he knew exactly how I felt. I was mad and, though I hate to admit it, out of control. I think he said something back to me as I stormed off and up the stairs, but I wasn’t listening. I fell into a heap on the floor in our bedroom in tears.
After a few minutes I started to calm down a little and I wondered what on earth to do now. *sigh* There was no way I was going to sleep on the floor and we don’t have a spare bedroom. It’s not like I was going to climb into bed with one of the kids. So, now what?
I decided to go back downstairs. He was sitting on the loveseat watching television, so I headed for the couch and settled in with a pillow and blanket. I dared not even look at him. I closed my eyes and tried to go to sleep. It wasn’t happening though. I was too upset. After awhile I opened my eyes and looked over at Michael. He looked as tired and worn out as I felt. He wanted to know if I wanted to come upstairs with him and go to bed. I shook my head yes. When we got upstairs and climbed into bed I stayed on my side at first, but he wanted me to come cuddle. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but I slid over, not really snuggling up, just lying next to him. His arm came down at my side, encouraging me to really snuggle up. I didn’t resist and did what he wanted. My heart wasn’t really in it, but I knew I wouldn’t be any happier lying on my side of the bed by myself either. We were both exhausted, physically and emotionally, and it wasn’t long before we were both asleep.
The next thing I knew it was morning. I woke up still feeling unsettled. We hadn’t exactly gone to bed angry, but we hadn’t exactly straightened things out before heading to bed either. Michael isn’t working today, but he has some things to attend to out of the house. Since he ended up with the day off he rescheduled a doctor’s appointment and he’s going to get new tires put on my vehicle…there’s probably some other stuff too, I’m not sure. We could both feel that there was still some tension between us this morning. Just before he left we tried to play it off, tried to make things right again, but that’s still not really the case and we both know it. As he headed out the door he said “don’t worry, I’ll spank you when I get home.” *sigh* I hate to admit it, but that’s probably what needs to happen. Oh yes, we need to talk about things too, but without the spanking I don’t think it will really be resolved. Why is a spanking needed to clean the slate? I swear I have no idea, but I can’t argue that it seems to work.
What is that quote about loving discipline? Oh, I know, I’m thinking of a Bible verse…Hebrews 12:11…No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.
Righteousness and peace…yeah, we could use some more of that right about now. I’m glad that incidences like last night are the exception and not the norm, but I’m hoping we both get to a place where things don’t spiral out of control like that at all anymore.
Wish me luck; say a little prayer for us. I don’t know how things will go later. The fight has left me though. In fact, right now I’m exhausted. I’m pretty sure I could crawl back into bed and be asleep in no time. I just want to be past this and have everything right between us again…yes, even if that means that I’ll be getting spanked.