This may come as a surprise, but I am not a perfect wife. I do lots wrong. I keep my feelings bottled up. I think more about me than I do about him. I forget to put the towels up. And I don’t cook. But I think that last one kinda makes both of us happy.
None of this, however, beats my absolute worst wife behavior: Getting crazy mad.
Unfortunately, Marie crazy mad is not adorable. It’s just dramatic. I like to yell. And talk over you. And look at the ceiling while you talk so that I can thoroughly communicate just how not important your opinion is. Sometimes I cuss, but not often because I sound silly cussing.
And I always leave. Sometimes I just go sit in my car. Or in our bedroom. Or I drive around the block.
Technically, leaving can actually be a good thing. We shouldn’t try to talk when we’re mad. It’s physiologically impossible. Cooling down is good.
Healthy leaving would sound something like this, “I’m feeling very angry right now. I’m going to need to take a break from this conversation. Let’s talk about this in an hour or so. I’m going for a walk.”
My leaving, however, goes like this, “Why do you hate me and President Obama SO MUCH? (Because that’s, seriously, what all of our big fights have been about, Mark being mean to the President) I never want to see you again! You don’t care about me and I’m leaving! Except it’s raining, and I don’t like driving in the rain, so I’m just going to the other room, but don’t you DARE try to talk to me!”
I have stormed out of the house an average of once a month since we’ve been married. It’s in my genes. Each time I do this I feel like a real jerk after about 15 minutes. And then I start to freak out. I’ve hurt Mark. I’ve said something mean that will leave a permanent scar on our relationship. He hates me.
Sometimes I call as I drive back home, or I walk back to the living room with my head hanging.
“Hey,” I’ll say meekly.
“Hi, Sweetie,” he’ll say without an ounce of anger or condemnation. And then he’ll smile. And then he’ll open his arms to give me hug.
Every. single. time.
Not once have I been “punished” for being a crazy drama queen. I’m ALWAYS his ‘Sweetie’. No amount of crazy seems to be able to change that.
When I got married I wanted only one thing, for my husband to love me the way Christ loves the church. After nearly a year of marriage (this Sunday! My goodness time flies when you’re stomping around arguing about politics), I’m pretty sure that’s what God has given me.
I am so blessed.