Vulnerable

It's been a bit of a rough week at our house.

Not because of the regular rough-inducers, but because of normal non addiction life roughness.

Oddly it's been refreshing. Regular (and socially acceptable) roughness is a nice change of pace.

But here's the thing. When we go through rough things we talk about it on a very surface level. I'm naturally a pretty open person, so it's not hard to tell Husband that x, y or z went wrong. X, Y & Z are obviously wrong and anybody in the world can see that. No wonder it's easy to say it to him.

But the deeper darker fears and feelings I generally save for myself.
I cry in the middle of the night when my house is quiet and I can sneak out my back door and sit under my favorite tree.
I weep while I drive after a taxing day.
I also cry for people, with people, and about the regular stuff. Those are tears I'm happy to share. But mine are just for me.
But mainly, I don't share my shame. When I do something that makes me feel ashamed, I stuff it and run away. 

That's why it's a big deal that after an embarrassing (even shaming) evening I was able to honestly tell him exactly what happened and exactly how distraught I felt. I told him about being the fool. I explained my fears and my nervousness about facing these people again.

The strangest thing was his reaction. One I haven't seen for a long time.

My addict husband opened his arms to me and held me and listened to me cry.

It was a small step, yes. But it was in the right direction.