Stuart Smalley, Grey Hair and a Promise

The morning was typical with the exception that M got up.  He usually gets up in the morning, but not during the time I am supporting the girls in their independent efforts of getting ready for school.  I was pleased to see him earlier than expected.
 
Me: "Good morning!  You're up!"
M: passive aggressive comment
Me: "What?  What do you mean?"

My voice escalated which was followed by a small amount of banter, followed by M going back to bed. After the girls were off to school I cried, slammed some cabinet doors...you know the drill.

“Insanity is doing the same thing, over and over again, but expecting different results.”

― Albert Einstein

M and I have been struggling with changing routines and habits, personally and as a couple, in order to be more successful—personally, as a couple, and as a family.  This morning's appearance in advance of his typical time for waking was a shining ray of hope that modifications could indeed be made.   

But I forgot.  We have an obstacle.

We struggle with personal kindness--not a battle to be kind to others, but one to be compassionate to our individual selves.

We lack the ability to engage in self-forgiveness and get caught up in beating ourselves up (not like Fight Club, like in our thoughts).

If we aren't careful, this phenomenon leads to a build up of anger and self-doubt that is expressed in the wrong direction.

Instead of embodying Stuart Smalley and addressing ourselves in the mirror, we lash out at each other, usually when it is least expected.

And that’s what happened this morning.

In those reactionary moments, I forget that M and I are into our own personal journeys of healing from child sexual abuse.  It is complicated and complex, to say the least.  On its own, healing makes a plate full.  Add the stress of daily life, which includes  economics, education, careers, housework, failing appliances, and kids (although they fall into the category of "good stress"), and we've got a delicate situation.  Delicate?  I mean, combustible.  Oh, and my hair is turning grey.  

I know we are working on something very heavy and very important.  There is beauty in our courage.  But I would like to be OK as I watch other things go unattended.  I would like to, you know, not get so stressed out when things do not change as fast as I think they should.

I mean, all these "things" will be here after the Sword of Trauma is removed (thank you Angela Shelton).


Or, at least, I hope so.

So, I am choosing to let go of the passive-aggressive remark that for some reason caused me to overreact like a two-year-old being sentenced to time out.  I am also excusing my behavior (after six hours of pouting, crying, and throwing dishes in the sink).

And...

Right now, I am asking you, dear readers of Sperk*, to witness my promise:

I promise to be kind to myself as I continue my trek of transformation.  

I promise to be kind to M.   

And I promise to call the salon to resolve my issue with grey hair.

Yes, that was more than one promise.  Be kind.  Be compassionate.  Forgive me.

photo credit: thisisbossi via photo pin cc