I’m sorry to say it, but the people in my life, especially the men in my life, don’t get a fair deal. They are all victims of what I refer to as – my marriage PTSD.
For years I let my husband play emotional ping pong with my head. I was grilled, examined, cross examined, every statement dissected, every intention extrapolated, while I attempted to respond with the patience of a saint.
Which I was not.
Eventually I exploded.
But that’s a story for another time.
Now I lash out at every innocuous question. An eye for an eye, and lets throw in a few extra limbs for shits and giggles.
Just today someone asked me, “Why do you never message me?”
“I’m messaging you right now.”
“But that is only because I messaged you first.”
“We are too old for this conversation.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“Not yet, but I will be soon. Stop grilling me.”
“All that I’m saying is that you could reach out first once in a way. I’m not grilling you.”
“Feels like grilling.”
“We are friends. Friends have expectations.”
“I don’t do expectations. My friend should know that I have marriage PTSD.”
Yup! I have actually convinced them that this is a legit excuse.
It’s not fair on them. I know. It’s not healthy for me either. I know. I’m working on it.
Step one – accept the problem.
Step two – find someone else to blame 😉
Bear with me. Work in progress here.
Triggered by the Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday “grill.”