Well. Since I got back from Wales, I’ve been working hard to gain the cats trust again. I’d really like them to like me. I think it’s getting monotonous having my own family prefer my husband’s company to mine.
“It truly makes the most beautiful music…
Everything it has to give….
It’s everywhere, hiding the listener…
Without it…I could not live…
“[Silence] truly makes the most beautiful music.” ~ Edited from Sonata Arctica’s song, “Of silence…”
I’m going to find my psycholinguistics book and write some more stuff out about that. I’m fed up with feeling down because I’m bored. I’m surrounded by a ton of books, and yet I can’t be bothered to start reading them. That’s not completely true but I’ve no other way to describe it. Once I get a few pages in, I’ll happily read for hours. It’s just that nudge to get started; Which is my problem with most things. I read more on holiday because my other half read. He needed space away from me, and reading was his only chance for escape. I’ve already made a vow to be better at understanding that. And in finding my old independence, hopefully it won’t be too hard for me to do.
I don’t want him to feel flawed or guilty because I’m not giving him enough space. Each time he asks, I recognise how selfish I’ve been, and I’ll happily accommodate – as long as it’s somewhat planned. I just don’t do surprises.
I guess I like the illusion of control as much as the next human. I’ll work on that once I’ve got a little more patience and I’m a better wife to him.
He’s not being unreasonable, and I remember a time when I would push people away, especially boyfriends, because they didn’t give me space. So I, of all people, understand the need. It’s just a case of needing a little reminder to accommodate his wishes.
I am not irrevocable anymore.
I am strong.