Today I straightened the pillows without cussing out my husband, Mike. This is good since every day for the last three months I have straightened up the messed up pillows he leaves behind while screaming profanity and using fuck like a conjunction. Today I straightened them without reaction...this, is progress. But then I opened up the dishwasher and saw the dirty dishes loaded in it including a grease laden pan that OBVIOUSLY does not go in the dishwasher without a pre-wash and knew...that motherfucker is out to get me.
You are probably imagining from the title that Mike was loading the dishwasher and screwing up the pillows while toking up a crack pipe. No, he's a recovering crackhead. He has been sober for just over ten years now and is actually quite amazing in many ways. He works in recovery and has helped many people recover from addiction. He's brutally honest both to others and about himself but always uses humor to smooth over the fact he just told you that you are an idiot. Even with all of his good qualities, it does not erase the fact that sometimes I want to punch him in the throat. I have PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) from both sexual violence and emotional abuse brought on by four separate perpetrators at four different times in my life. Needless to say, I have anger management issues, social issues, trust issues, and paranoia. I am currently doing well and test well on my mental evaluations, but PTSD is always there ready to rear its ugly head if I get lazy on my self-care. Dealing with PTSD is much different than dealing with recovery. I can only speak from my observances but people in recovery have a new lease on life. The world is an open book and they are ready to enjoy it, "Smell that fresh air! Isn't it great!?" "Look at those flowers... I've never seen color so DEEP." Nice, right? It is nice for awhile to see a positive spin on everything. It helps when the world feels unsafe to have someone point out the beauty of things. But sometimes, like on the days that life is too short to straighten up pillows, let's go chase butterflies makes me want to choke a bunny. (Side note: I would never actually choke a bunny. I like bunnies. Bunnies are adorable. Please do not ban me from bunnies.) This makes our marriage an interesting journey. A journey of me cursing and him laughing. Mainly him laughing at me as I cuss him out, then I get madder because he is laughing at my anger so I talk faster and then spit because I got tongue tied and now I am laughing because I am sure I look like a crazy person bug eyed and spitting over something stupid like pillows. It's a cycle really.
Trying to understand our differences has been crucial to our survival. He is better at this than I am but I'm trying. If I am having a bad day he tends to give me space to work through it and I try to not say something every time I notice his lack of concentration, probably brought on by years of drug abuse. Focusing on the good qualities is a must. Mike always looks at the bright side and finds the silver lining. Myself...I am extremely responsible with a high moral character, as well as an excellent curse word vocabulary.