I announce at work that my last day will be September 1. This generates a wide range of reactions, from “Oh no, it won’t be the same without you!” to “Well, you’re going to finish this project before you go, right? Because I can’t take anything else on.” I am relieved to have told everyone. I am sad to think of leaving the people I care about. I feel overwhelmed by the amount of work I am expected to finish before I go. I wonder if I will spend the rest of my life worrying about money. I feel dizzy thinking that I have no idea what I’ll be doing three months from now, a year from now.
Though I try to self-soothe, I feel a lot of emotional turmoil that is hard to quiet. My thinking slides right into old familiar modes: I am bad, I deserve to die. The difference between now and a year ago is that I recognize now that this is my brain on stress, and this brain doesn’t always speak the truth. Still, it feels bad. I want some relief. I know that hurting myself will bring some relief.
A few days after the last time I burned myself, in late July, my husband saw the burn. He was concerned and caring. He didn’t judge me. He asked if I could share my pain with him, so I wouldn’t have to be alone with it. It was a very loving, moving thing to say. I remember it almost every day.
So I tell myself, he wants me to share this with him. I owe it to him to try.
Me: I’m not feeling so good.
Him: What do you mean, not so good?
Me: You know, agitated, distressed. Like it would be a relief to burn myself.
Him: Oh, no, don’t do that. You don’t need to do that… You can talk to me. What’s going on? Do you know what the distress is about?
So I tell him it’s about work and all the strong and confused emotions. Sometimes I think it’s just the intensity I can’t take. I don’t want to feel so much.
Him: Oh, it’s going to be fine. I know what it’s like to change a job. I have done that many times, including leaving jobs without knowing what I would do instead. But things always came to me. Like the time I gave notice when I worked for [airlines], and everyone thought it was crazy because it was such a good job, but I was deadly bored… [more about that job]… And then when I did all the IT work for the bakery, after a while I couldn’t do it anymore… [more about that job]. And it was all fine. Opportunities just come up. There’s no reason to worry. I never worried.
I look at him, without saying anything. I think: he is missing the point. I think: it must be nice to be so automatically confident that everything is going to be fine. I think: it also must be nice to grow up with encouraging, supportive parents in a country that provides a wide range of economic, social, and physical supports for its citizens (yay Scandinavia!). But this is not my reality.
He continues talking, clearly enjoying the memory of leaving different jobs he did not like and moving to other work he liked better. Inside I am nearly rolling my eyes. Until I remember, wait, the whole point of telling him things is to build closeness. Rolling my eyes does not build closeness. So I interrupt him.
Me: Honey? It’s really good that it was like that for you. Which, actually, I already know, because you have told me these stories before, remember? And I imagine you are offering them to me as encouragement, but it kind of feels like you are telling me my angst is no big deal. And that’s not really helping me cope with my feelings.
Instantly, he sits up taller and looks at me.
Him: Oh my gosh, of course, what am I doing? I’m so sorry, I’m just wandering through my memories. Of course, of course that’s not helpful. It’s not like your own experience at all.
Right away, I feel better. He’s hearing me. He asks me how he can help.
Me: Just be here. Sit by me.
Him: Okay, that’s easy. But is that enough? I feel like I should do more.
Me: You can drive me to my meeting tomorrow morning. I like when you drive me places. I feel cared for.
So he sits by me on the couch, and we watch the Olympics for a bit, and I don’t burn myself that night. He drives me to work the next day. He texts me and checks on how I am feeling.
I know he doesn’t fully get it; he can’t. All my craziness is outside his experience. But he tries, and he lets me tell him when he gets it wrong.
I feel kind of proud that I was able to stop him when he was going down a path that wasn’t helpful. I spoke up. I’ve never done that before. It makes sense that he can’t really get it (and I’m happy, after all, that he doesn’t have a similar background). It makes sense that I have to explain things to him in a way I don’t have to with E. It’s more work than telling her things. But he’s in my real life, not in a therapy relationship with me. It’s worth the effort, I think, for me to keep trying to make him understand, and for him to keep trying to understand something utterly foreign to him. That’s how we reach across the abyss of silence and misunderstanding and find a way to touch each other.
Sage Burning 
Hooray for both of you! TS
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I just really love this. For so many reasons. Because you were brave and reached out. Because you stopped him and redirected back to you needs— how awesome is that?!?!? Because he is trying to hard to understand something he just can’t because it’s not in his experience. It gives me hope that maybe one day, I will be there, too. Good job Q. 🙌🏻😊💟
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This sounds so healthy. To be able to share with someone who doesn’t get it but who understands when you explain what you want. I also like the fact that you can explain what you want and you know some good alternatives. I soooo need to learn some of this. Thanks for the post x
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I am so happy for both of you!!! It takes a lot of work learning out to communicate and both of showed how much you have grown in that area! (My husband and I haven’t gotten there yet, but we are working on it)
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This has evolved slowly over a number of months (with encouragement and nudging from E). It sometimes feels awkward to start the conversations, but I always end up glad afterwards. We both feel a deepening closeness. I hope you are able to find the same with your husband. There’s nothing quite like having a partner who is emphatically on your side.
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I love this. I know my fiancé is on my side and he (we both) have done a lot of work and growth to get where we are… There are still things he doesn’t get, but he tries so hard and it’s in that effort I find the closeness. After all if he wasn’t rational and logical and the complete opposite of me – we probably wouldn’t have made it this far anyways. Thanks so much for sharing 🙂
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This is beautiful. My therapist will sometimes say that we need to teach people how to love us. I feel like that’s what you did here and it’s so wonderful to see him be receptive and flexible. You deserve that so very much. xo
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I like that “we need to teach people how to love us.” That’s right, I think. Before I used to believe that he should just KNOW. He loves me, so he should get what I need. Now I’m finally learning how unreasonable that is, to expect someone will a different life experience to be able to intuit how you feel (even if you hide it). I’m glad to be learning this, though I will say, it’s still not the easiest thing to do.
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This is another new therapy mantra for me: Rolling my eyes does not build closeness. It will be a hard one to stick to, I think.
I am so pleased and proud that you were able to redirect the conversation. I am thinking, too, that perhaps his solid calmness is a big part of what originally endeared your husband to you. I am hoping that perhaps over time he can teach you some of that – not in a way where you suppress your feelings and just listen to him, not at all, but perhaps hearing his confidence in you and your abilities can over time help support your own sense of confidence and calm, without minimizing your anxieties.
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You are exactly right, Rea. I loved his company and our time together, but what convinced me I should marry him (he’d asked me after we’d been together only about three weeks, and I’d said, are you crazy?) was when I realized he was always, always on my side. He wanted me to feel safe and be happy. He still wants that. It’s amazing, and it’s given me a lot of confidence. I know it doesn’t always look like a lot of confidence, but I can’t imagine that i would have come as far as I have without him. He’s so steady, and he shows me a good and loving picture of myself, which gives me strength and hope.
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It makes me so happy to hear that. And I love that story: three weeks!
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Well done. Re: the work comments “you are going to get that project done because I can’t take anything else on, right?” WOW. Some people!
I am really pleased your husband responded so supportively. And I find him quite endearing, and am glad he doesn’t “get it.” Glad he had a relatively good childhood/life.
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Wow, this is so heartfelt and beautiful, “He was concerned and caring. He didn’t judge me. He asked if I could share my pain with him, so I wouldn’t have to be alone with it.” That almost makes me tear up to read, because it’s such a deeply caring thing to say.
And, “Right away, I feel better. He’s hearing me.” That’s what we all want, isn’t it? To be heard and cared about – for someone to be with us in our pain, without getting overwhelmed by it.
You are so brave to try speaking up and communicating in a different way than you are used to. I imagine it’s a reflection of how well you and E are working together, that you are able to reach out to your husband like that.
I know that you’re going through a hard time with lots of shifts at the moment – I’m thinking about you and hope you are well.
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It really does take practice and patience doesn’t it? Maybe invite those two in for a chat, but they are kinda annoying so good luck 🙂
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