We had a good weekend. Which included a big, flaming misunderstanding.
Saturday night was rife with confusion between OH and I. He got really mad at me because I was being evasive and vague about something that was bothering me, and he could tell something was wrong but wanted to know what it was already. I didn't want to tell him because this painful Thing might be criticised or ridiculed and I knew I wouldn't live through that.
Then we talked and talked, and finally, in a very dramatic moment of letting out the Thing I had such great fear of revealing by literally walking backwards and crying like the big baby I am, it was out there and lo, I did not die. OH totally understood the thing and did not reject me, criticize, or ridicule; We talked about how not only did he find me not crazy for feeling this way, but how it was also totally rational and full of reason to feel this way. He went on to tell me that he believed if I felt strongly about something, it must be because I've got good reasons behind it, and that he is interested in how I feel so please won't I tell him serious things that bother me. Not only that, but he felt the same way about the Thing, and so could even understand in a personal way. Well, knock me over with a freaking feather.
We have this new, deeper understanding of one another and the irony is, it wouldn't have happened unless he hadn't gotten so pissed off so that I finally revealed it. I was willing to go on living with it in the pit of my stomach, protecting it because I was full of fear fear fear of being deemed "weak" or "too sensitive" or "off your fucking rocker" or something. I really did not want to reveal it.
Irony...don't you love it? I totally do. What I hate is how thick-headed I am because I keep doing this over and over: I keep avoiding, and life keeps coming at me and showing me that it's much better to be myself, and asks me to meet it halfway at least. When I do meet life halfway or more, I continually find that it's safe and I won't die, and I even live a little better after doing so.
I felt so relieved by the airing of the Thing and being cared for, that I felt even more mad love for OH than before. So we did the only thing you can do at a moment like that: We played our trumpets. It was around 1 am by the time all the drama was over and after all the talky-talk. There was this vibe in the air that didn't want to let us go quite yet. Things were still emotional and all sparkly new, so I suggested we play our trumpets. Obviously. Which made the cats run away in terror, but was the completely right thing to do just then.
I played the Cornet in middle school band, and he had played the trumpet in high school and college. I hadn't played in 17 years. He played in community band, like, last year, so I was feeling rather shy about playing in front of him. But, I didn't sound bad! Okay, I did! But then it got better and he is a totally great teacher. It was damn fun. And, about the only thing that could follow such an emotion-filled evening.
I love my husband so, so much, and I know this makes you all want to puke, but he seriously rocks and it needs to be said. It also needs to be said that I don't want to talk about the Thing. It's private, and what it is isn't really the point. It's the principle of the story that matters, you see. That, and all the personal growth and shit.
It is so much better to live life by being yourself and not letting fear stand in your way. You will not die if people don't agree with you, but you may very well die if you don't live honestly. Be yourself, no matter what. It's the only way to live. And, playing a trumpet is sometimes just the way to cap an intensely emotional evening.