I was Blind, but Now I See

Five Minute Friday, a writing challenge hosted by The Gypsy Mama:

So, here’s the skinny: I’ve been thinking about writing and how often our perfectionism gets in the way of our words. And I figured, why not take 5 minutes and see what comes out: not a perfect post, not a profound post, just five minutes of focused writing.

No extreme editing; no worrying about perfect grammar, font, or punctuation. Just painting with words. Finger-painting even.

So now on Fridays at The Gypsy Mama, a group of people who love to throw caution to the wind and just write gather to share what five minutes buys them. Just five minutes. Unscripted. Unedited. Real.

Your words. This shared feast.

A Five Minute Writing Challenge <—click to tweet this!

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking

2. Link back here and invite others to join in.

3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community..

OK, are you ready? Please give your best five minutes on:

See:

This has been a big problem for me lately.  I can’t see what’s going on inside my husband’s head.  He has been under enormous stress at work.

  • Frustrated client
  • Long days
  • Emergencies on the weekends
  • Safety standards violated
  • Upheaval in the office

There’s more, but until last Friday, I had no idea that any of this was happening.

My husband does not bring his work home, so what I “see” in the evenings is a man who is tired, sometimes cranky, sometimes short with me, and who would would much rather relax on the couch and play with our son than anything else.  He doesn’t want to make decisions.  He doesn’t want to be griped at.  He wants to be…peacefully…in his home.  And a hot meal would help.

I haven’t been able to see all of this, because instead of purposely looking past the shortness of the response, or the sigh that isn’t a sigh of frustration at me, I instead have taken it personally, assuming that he is angry with me, frustrated with me, or in general not happy with me and the state of our life.  And I get angry…at him.  And we argue.

I don’t want to carry all the emotional and mental burdens of his job, and I do want to be a good wife to him.  It took us having one of our rare big fights arguments for me to see…that he has been internalizing all of this stress when he is home so he can keep me from worrying.

How have I been so blind?

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