On Romance and Shoulder Angels

It's been three years, since I got married. Well, three years, and one day. Yesterday was my anniversary, and let me tell you, it was one busy, exhausting, horrible day.

As you may know, I work a full-time 9-5 here in DC. After the day, I take the train to VA where Willy picks me up. From there, we sit in traffic for 1-1.5 hours, which is a really good time to tell each other about our day. Unfortunately, for people who wake up at 6am to get to work and don't get to bed until 11, sitting in traffic for an hour means it's also the perfect time to be cranky, leading to many arguments over absolutely nothing. Or the same thing. Yesterday was not different, except in that rather than going home to a nice home-cooked meal by yours truly, we had to go to the doctor to get the both of us checked out. Willy has an ear infection, and I've got an infected horsefly bite. So we got there a bit early and managed to get a nice salad from a place nearby. Unfortunately, there was a Carvel ice cream store next door. Willy loves ice cream. So do I. It being our anniversary, of course he thought it would be a good idea to go inside and celebrate. Let me tell you how my brain works:

 

I want ice cream.

It will ruin your diet.

It's my anniversary.

It will make you fat.

I work damn hard. I deserve a treat.

You deserve nothing because you are fat.

Willy doesn't deserve a miserable wife.

You will always be miserable if you are fat.

I hate you. I wish you were gone.

You love me.You would miss me.

This happens every time I want something junk-foody. A few weeks ago, I would have given in. Giving in means a nice trigger of guilt and emotional crap for up at 3 days after the incident. I feel fat, and worse, I feel as if I've done something horrible, as if there is no escaping the inevitable sorrow that comes from being a big fat loser. So I tried to avoid that by saying "no". Of course, to a normal emotionally balanced person like my husband, I'm simply torturing myself. Perhaps I am. But the only way I know to make myself a bit less miserable is to not give in to my junk food cravings, because I understand at this point that food is only temporary and my sadness lasts days.

As unbalanced as my brain is, I'm not surprised at how frustrated Willy can be with me. I can't enjoy ice cream, so what's the point of him getting any? So we left and went to see the doctor. We waited at the doctor's until 8, got seen, and finally left at 9, only to get to the pharmacy and wait more for our prescriptions. Things were looking up when we purchased a bottle of champagne. We got home, I took a shower, and we were finally able to celebrate our anniversary.

Then I said I had to go to bed early. He was clearly disappointed. Being drunk on champagne, I started crying, and we got into another argument. On our anniversary. Now I'm sitting here, tired, with a headache, wondering what in the world is wrong with me.

I'll tell you what the biggest issue with me is: I love and hate myself more than anything. I have an obsession with me. This obsession triggers every joy and misery. I can't take a moment to enjoy ice cream with my husband because I'm afraid of making myself upset. I plan every little thing in advance because I'm obsessed with my own musical career, and my husband feels neglected. It's always about me. Is that wrong? Is it bad? I want to say it is, but if I didn't plan in my calendar, I'd be a mess. So the thing is, I either have to deal with my self obsessed nature and make more room for others, or I've got to give up on being not my own self. That's the thing with marriage; it's not just you, anymore. And it's taken me a long time to really recognize that and see that I have a problem making my life more than just mine.

I'm not saying Willy and I argue more than other couples. All couples argue. The bottom line is that we love each other, and we don't want our marriage to fail. That means making some sacrifices, on my part. Maybe I can't go on the road so much, or be out all the time, or spend so much time working. Maybe I should get some therapy for my body issues. Whatever it takes, I know why I married Willy. I know that in the end, he's the only guy in the world who really loves me, no matter what I do or what I look like. He loves me in such a way that I know I can depend on him, and the fact that I don't seem the same way is sad. It's not something I'm happy about. So it's time for me to try and make some kind of change. I don't know what kind. I don't think I can change my problems with food all at once, but I guess the first step is admitting that you have a serious problem. I have a serious problem. Srsly.