My shit doesn't stink

After spending so much time feeling like I was at war within my relationship, I’m spent! I’m exhausted and my anger is wearing me out. But time has a way of bringing wisdom, if we let it happen. I decided to drop my end of the tug-of-war the rope, and embrace pragmatism instead. I asked myself: “I am not happy with my relationship, so what can I do to make it better?”

I had to stop looking at my partner for answers. I had to look inside for a way out.

I had to take a hard look into what I was doing to keep the war going. Fear was the beast instigating my bellicose behavior. Fear of being hurt again, fear of being with the wrong partner, fear of not being able to trust again, fear having the same fight over and over, fear of losing my partner. Fear, fear, fear. I took a deep look into my fears. I took them out of my head and onto a piece of paper, and in doing so, I transformed three-dimensional scary demons into two-dimensional caricatures.

I turned on the light so I could look the fear in the eye, and I got out of my head. When I looked into my fear’s eyes for a little longer, it faded away. I started seeing my heart’s desires. Anger and fear have a way of clouding what I really want, so I had to keep looking deeper. After some sleepless nights, headaches, and heart pain, I was ready to let go of the mind struggle.

Clarity came as the struggle left. I could see that the fear of losing the man I loved kept me awake at night. I finally could hear what love was saying inside of me: “I want him close, I miss him, I need to let him in… and show how much I love him.” Finally I was able to see that he was afraid, too. I was able to pull him into my heart again.

Fear is on a leash for now, but the war count is always ugly. The relationship itself has a life of its own, but what I can control is my life. I can decide to continue to learn about what brought me to react so much in first place.

The more familiar I am with what’s inside, the more I can claim it, the less I blame others for my “shit.” I don’t want to hide, push it away, and forget so it becomes alien to me. I don’t want to think, “My shit smell like roses. Your shit stinks, not mine.”