We talk about love – the miracle of it, the power of it, and the light that it brings to the world. But love can also bring frustration, irritation, and an incredible desire to punch somebody out.
Passion can take a rational person and turn him or her into a raging lunatic.
I know. I’m the queen of flipping. . .
Like many of you, my husband and I have faced a lot of pressures over the past couple of years. We have dealt with cancer, my mother’s stroke, job loss and economic challenges. Sound familiar?
In most cases, we have done it with love and support a lot of hugging. Until the other day.
It was a beautiful Saturday, and I wanted to go car shopping. Not because we needed a car, but because it was a NORMAL thing to do. It wouldn’t require us to sit in a room and watch people fight for their lives. Nobody would be injecting anything into my husband’s body.
No, this would be a shallow day that would begin with an artery-clogging breakfast at Cracker Barrel and end with a romantic stroll through the Carmax parking lot. That’s right, some people like to hike; I like to stroll through cars.
Was that too much to ask?
My husband didn’t quite get how desperately I needed this day, even though I turned to him on Friday night and said, “I desperately need to go out, look at cars, and be normal tomorrow.” He pulled the big-time mistake of nodding as if he heard me, which he didn’t.
We awoke on Saturday, and my husband asked one innocent, nitrogen-filled, question — “What are we going to do today?”
“Well,” I replied with clenched teeth, “last night we discussed looking at cars.”
“I think maybe we should wait until the spring to do that,” he replied with an abundance of misplaced confidence.
And the war was on . . .
The day became one very long argument, with me feeling extremely sorry for myself.
“I just wanted to have one normal day that wasn’t about illness or work or anything else . . . JUST ONE DAY!” I ranted, my throat closing in a useless attempt to shut me up.
My husband tried to fix it by offering to go out to Carmax three hours later, but he had missed the deadline.
And I felt guilty for yelling at a husband who has cancer, which made me even more angry. I couldn’t even have a normal fight.
Love is a devil of a thing . . .
I had a moment that extended for several hours. And I needed it. But Neil had to watch my head spin and dodge the verbal vomit that was spewing everywhere.
I apologized the next day. “Some people cry,” I explained as if he didn’t know me already, “But I;m a fighter.”
My husband smiled, although I noticed he was standing a few feet farther away from me than usual. And he brought my coffee with some very large tongs so he could pass the cup to me without getting close.
But it’s all good. Because powering up means being real, and sometimes being real means letting your head spin with those you love the most.
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