Thursday, 16 February 2012

My itchy bitchy heart...

I should begin with an apology - To anyone who goes on to spend some amount of time with Billy Ray occupying your brain...  I sincerely apologize (kind of)!

TLOML and I have finally had a cross word, she simply failed to understand the way it works when I cook something.  When I cook - anyone who is going to consume the output simply MUST contribute to the chorus of angles singing "Hallelujah"; they MUST prearrange a Standing Ovation!  Then upon tasting the gold encrusted output they MUST collapse in paroxysms of rapturous delight!  It is simply NOT acceptable to stay on the phone and suggest that this ambrosia can be reheated later.  Needless to say I got snippy, one might even say pissy... or if one was not very favourably disposed towards me one might say shitty...  I didn't yell or scream, I didn't do back-flips of uncouth gestures, I think I kind of hurumphed off with words that were vaguely aligned with the much maligned and totally attitudinous "Whatever".

Interestingly enough the day after this moody 'tudey outburst I began doing the prereading for my soon to begin Master of Conflict and Dispute Resolution (yes the irony is not lost on me).  One of the first things I learned is that the ability to simultaneously comprehend and understand multiple diverse points of view is a sign of having a highly developed ability to manage conflict.  In effect I can recognize that my expectations with regard to the award presentation that needs to take place every time I come within a foot of the stove are unreasonable, and perhaps even a little childish, while simultaneously feeling angry and disrespected that those expectations have not been met.  I have learned that when I feel these conflicting feelings (or perhaps when my inner adult is not doing a good enough job of giving my inner child a time out) I am engaging in intrapersonal conflict.  I actually do quite a lot of that I think!

Now here is not the place to sound off about anyone else's contribution to a dispute so I will simply say that there are some aspects of my personality that might be just a touch anal and that I am not always my best and most grown up self when other people are a bit more loosey goosey with plans and targets than I am.  Interestingly I gave the appearance of being hard and TLOML found that off-putting.  I'm not hard, I'm never hard... that audible clang which sounds so hard is actually my shell crashing closed over my wounded, wimpy innards.  I am a good representative subject of my star sign - Cancer.  Under threat (real or imagined) this super-sensitive little crab hunkers down inside her shell with her pincers raised in defense.

In view of the fact that TLOML and I have been going through quite a stressful, and very frustrating, external situation I really think we are doing pretty well.  It hasn't been easy for either of us and we have both proved ourselves to be capable of empathizing with the other and gently trying to find solutions that minimize the damage to us as a couple.  As in all things communication is the absolute key and I know that I really shouldn't get cranky about not getting my standing ovation when I haven't fully explained the imperative need of said standing ovation (and the chorus of angels and paroxysms of rapture).  We have talked it out, and moved on, feeling more loving and stronger and hopefully a little more aware of our individual needs.

OK so much for the bitchy part... now to the itchy... eeep!!!  I now don't know if the stings are real or imagined.  This place is crawling with a staggering bio-diversity of stinging and biting things!  Over the last few days I have been almost constantly scratching.  My skin is on the move with real, and brain induced false, sensations of being stung or bitten.  I spend so much time slapping myself that I should get a pair of lederhosen and take up German folk dancing.  I also overdid it a few days ago when I replaced the decking boards on the landing and I've been paying with constant muscle pain and roving spasms.  Oh well at least I achieved something, I could have had the same pain and spasm while doing nothing.  I'd like to launch into a big whinge right now about how irritated I am re hurting all the time but I'd rather close by suggesting that all stove manufacturers consider installing a special feature - when you turn the dial to OFF, the stove should play a soundtrack of a crowd giving a rousing round of applause, cheering and yelling "BRAVO!!!"


  1. Oh dear! Trying very hard not to giggle, but can't help it because you tell a tale against yourself so well!

    Truly...sorry that you and TMOYL had your first spat but now it's over and done with. I suspect the external issues you are both facing had raised both your stress levels and some kind of explosion had to happen; your feast - and the idea of keeping it warm or reheating it - was simply the catalyst.

    Maybe the chorus of angels is a bit unrealistic (although you probably have a chorus of houseflies singing joyfully at the sight of your delicious dinner delight). But yes, when any of us cook we do expect some sort of appreciation for our efforts; especially if we cook with love. An "Mmm, that's delicious" after the first mouthful usually hits the spot and extra praise is welcomed if unexpected. So I can understand why you 'whatever'ed, especially if it was something that tasted fantastic eaten straight away (unlike casseroles etc which always taste better on day 2).

    What the (*&%^ were you doing fixing the bloody decking boards when you were knackered earlier in the week? Honestly woman! Take it a bit easy and don't feel guilty if you do!

    (Can't get bloody Achy Breaky Heart out of my head now. Aaarrggghhh!!!)

  2. I completely understand your frustration and anger. I've been there with my husband so many times that I eventually stopped cooking. Yep. Enough was enough. Nothing was good enough to get him to stop whatever he was doing and come in to EAT when it was ready. I'd ask him when he'd be ready; I'd give him notices that Dinner will be Done in an hour, a half hour, ten minutes, IT's DONE! All to no avail. So I stopped doing the cooking.

    And now he has to cook for me. Oh, the irony.

  3. Hee, hee.

    I find your description of the validation you need/expect when cooking funny- only because your inner child and adult see it differently and struggle. When I cook I also would like some fanfare- but mostly because I don't like to do it, and risk becoming a blood donor every time I try to handle a knife. It's really an experience in survival.

    It's a good thing you can recognize the anal part of your personality. I read somewhere that lazy, wishy-washy people don't get fibromyalgia- it's the overachievers, the Type A's, the high performers. Isn't that good and bad news? Wonder if it's true?

    Hmm, you are a Cancer? Me too. Explains a lot why we relate to each other. Yep, mushy centre protected by a hard shell- that sums it up.

    It's weird how the big stuff doesn't usually cause the most conflict, it's the small stuff: clothes on the floor, lid off the toothpaste, toilet paper hung the wrong way, etc. Good grief. I think once you both learn each other's quirks then you develop your mechanisms to deal (hopefully with some humour thrown in for good measure).

    Hope your domestic efforts are rewarded in good measure, and that you are able to temper your expectations as well. Never easy. Cue the chorus of angels...