I got into an argument with Keith last night because he told me he’s coming home two days earlier than planned and instead of acting overjoyed and happy I went into problem solving mode, trying to figure out what plans can be shifted and adjusted.
My lack of favorable response triggered his feelings of being rejected. He needed to hear that I was happy to have him home. He needed to know that he’s wanted, welcomed, missed and desired. I get that. I understand my less than enthusiastic response may have made him feel unimportant, insignificant, unwelcome, and unappreciated – even if he didn’t likely have untreated BPD.
I know what he needed and what I should have done differently in order to not get into he argument. But it was like watching a car stall out on the tracks in front of an oncoming train with brakes that went out. There was nothing I could do in order to avoid the collision.
The fatigue, brain fog, and physical pain have me at my most vulnerable and least constructive the later it gets. The constant low-level depression and anxiety are at their lowest point before bedtime.
Anyway, he’ll be home later this morning and the laundry is in various piles and Luna’s toys aren’t where they need to be. Felix Unger is about to descend upon Oscar Madison’s pit of chaos.
I had planned to spend the next two days writing extra posts and scheduling them. I was also going to get all the laundry caught up and put away. I’m supposed to attend a parenting class and a socialization with other Head Start families. It may sound unreasonable that I will likely bail out on these things. But Keith has been gone for six weeks and only gets four days home. So, giving him undivided time and attention to focus on us and our family is what needs to happen.
Here’s something I created for him that will hopefully help him understand my love.
I’ll try to post. I’m sure I will need to. However, if I don’t this is why. We’ll be fine and will work through this. Maybe I’ll even learn something from it, who knows.
In the meantime: P.E.A.C.E.