Compassion Came Out

For too many years I felt alone in my home. I felt like it was my job to run the house, run a business (at home with baby) and run our lives. 

 

I tried to work recovery. I tried to serve in my church. I tried to stay healthy. I tried to do it all and I felt zero support from Husband in my efforts. He worked a lot and was in school and during the rare moments that he was at home, he wasn't really present. 

 

It's easy to look back now and say I was simply overwhelmed. I had way too much on my plate and way too little support; but at the time I simply felt unqualified for life. I felt like everybody I saw around me could do it all and there was something wrong with me because I was breaking at the seams.

I still hold some resentment toward Husband because I felt like he had abandoned me. And instead of seeing that I was drowning and trying to help, he was adding more for me to do.
"We really need you to keep working, can't you do anything to get more clients?"
"I looked at porn again today, if we could just have sex more....." and
day after day with no conversations at all.

We're heading into a busy work week for him and he'll be gone an awful lot. He works 13-14 hour days and he has picked up some extra shifts which means that yesterday was his only day off in a 9 day stretch. He will be exhausted at the end of every day and come home to sleep. He won't be present. He won't help around the house. I won't get an extra set of hands for bedtime, or getting my littles where they need to be. I'll be on my own again - which brings up all those unsettled feelings of resentment. 

I had expressed this concern to him in a less-than-kind discussion. I whined and pissed and moaned and told him I hate that he does this. I reminded him of his uselessness and exhaustion when he works too much. I told him I was too tired to take it all on again. I laid it all out and he sat there - removed from the conversation thinking that I'm crazy.

Yesterday (the only day off) he did a lot of stuff. He tried to catch up some household chores, he took the kids out for a fun afternoon at a local hands-on children's museum and by the end of the day he was exhausted. I ran from one appointment to the next all day, and when I sat down to dinner at 6:15 knowing that I had somewhere to be at 6:30, I took a second to look across the table. I saw the familiar bloodshot eyes and sagging lids. I saw the slumped posture and the heavy hands. I saw the exhaustion all over his face and (though I'm not proud of it) I was so glad. I wanted him to understand how I felt during those years. I wanted him to see what he put me through. And in that moment I was prepared to show him exactly why our discussion about him doing this to me again this week was heated. Why I still felt strongly about it.

This is how I felt every day for 3 years! All the while you asked me to make more money, take on more work, be more available to you and be a better person! This is how I still feel every day at 6:15 knowing that you'll technically be off work in 15 minutes but won't come home for another hour or 2. This is the time of day when the only reason I don't run out the front door screaming is that it would take too much effort. This is the part where you start counting down the minutes until an extra set of hands comes home - but the car never pulls up and there is no extra set of hands. THIS IS WHY I HATE YOU. 

I thought all of those things, and I was well prepared to say them. So I opened my mouth, and by the grace of God none of that came out. Compassion came out instead. 

"I can tell you have been working hard all day and you are totally exhausted. I can see that you could really use some help right now, and that you're overwhelmed. I'm so sorry for that and I know that you know I'm about to leave and you're facing bedtime alone and that probably feels like yet another mountain to climb. I'm so sorry that I won't be here to help tonight."

I still felt all of the resentment and the sick pleasure that maybe he was finally understanding a little tiny piece of what I went through. I wasn't feeling compassion as I spoke - but compassion is what came out of my mouth. 

After my other appointments, when I came home to do the remaining dishes and laundry, THEN I felt compassion and gratitude. I was thankful that he took the time to play with my Littles. I was relieved that he made the effort to make my week easier. And most importantly, I truly felt compassion for that horribly exhausting evening. Because the feeling is familiar to me, and (finally) I was sorry he experienced it too. 

It's such a strange thing to open your mouth prepared to say one thing, and have something different come out. But I am glad it did. I am glad that what I spoke became true a few hours later. And though I haven't asked him, I feel comfortable saying that those words were at least a little healing for him.

In Buffalo House we often miss the boat, but there are still many many signs of improvement, growth and learning.