. . . and the Cheese

Part of me wants to break down in tears. It would feel good to be weak and just start to cry. It always does. But then we both hurt. I take the easy way out to get what I need (tears vs just telling him that he hurt my feelings) and he feels bad for making me cry. It's a circle. But I remember reading in my Al-non book that I have to be in charge of my happiness. No one else should control that. But I am happiest when we are happy together. When I don't have to worry about walking on egg shells. When I don't have the urge to have to Blog or write in a journal because the feelings inside of me make me feel like I am going to burst.

He came home (after a 2 hour dinner or whatever) and never said a word to me. Just went about his business like nothing had happened. He is a very smart and caring man. So for me to think that he didn't realize his words were hurtful, is hard for me to believe. So if he did realize, at dinner maybe, that he was hurtful towards me, then why doesn't he try to make it better? Granted I didn't say anything to him either when he came home. I suppose I could have asked him how his dinner was or where he went. I could have made the attempt to break the ice, right? But I was too afraid to. Afraid that he would reject me further. Say more hurtful things, because maybe he didn't realize what he did. So then we would have argued or I would have cried. And there we are, back at the beginning of the circle.

I do love him. I remind myself of that ever second. It is just so hard living with his PTSD some days. Some days it is easier and things just flow. Love flows. And other days, the love is still there, but the anger and insecurities from the PTSD flood everything. And then my eyes, over flow with tears.