We had a fight this month. Not a disagreement or conversation where we were merely being snippy with each other vying for the imaginary points of the self-righteous but a fight where you slammed the door to the bedroom with me still inside it and stormed out of the house before driving off in the car. That really pissed me off. The slamming me inside the room more than the driving off in a huff but in general, that was one of the few times that I’ve ever wished we had a second car. All of a sudden I felt like you had trapped me inside a building that no longer felt like a home and left me with no way to get out. It had been raining on and off so it wasn’t as if the weather was that great outside and I didn’t have any cash for the bus but I just couldn’t stay there in case you came back and wanted to talk so I left. Chancing the rain, I walked out of the house for a couple of hours and put all of your calls through to voicemail.
I don’t remember exactly what the fight was about now. I remember you trying to get your way and me not simply giving it to you but I don’t remember the why. I think I was tired of feeling like I had gone out of my way to support you when you were unemployed and that your expectations didn’t seem to have changed once you had found a job. That wasn’t of course anything that I had actually put into words to you but it was probably a strong contributor to a string of misinterpretations that led to the arguing and the leaving. You often speak in absolutes when you are upset and your opening salvos are usually in terms of blame, fault and guilt. I still don’t understand why we can’t start with a false impression or a misunderstanding instead. Do we go past that point and I don’t even notice? So we both felt terrible and I cut myself off knowing that you would be worried. I didn’t sms you to let you know that I was ok and I left you with no information other than the fact that I was gone. That was something I did need to apologise for because that was me behaving badly and I did apologise to you – eventually. When I was ready. And hopefully that means something.
Your Loving Wife
* Photo taken at the Vivid Festival honouring Lachlan Macquarie.