In the very perfect corner in my very perfect world of my very perfect mind I can do no wrong. My mistakes become laughable moments that would invoke an “aww” from a sitcom viewing audience. I glide through life with the comfort of “ladies who lunch” and my foot dare not dip in the unclean puddles of rain. I have no problems. My house is always clean, my hair is always coiffed and my husband and my children are all perfectly kept. Yes honey, I am giving June Cleaver a run for her money! My husband and I never argue, and even when he thinks to disagree with me the mere euphoria he gets from my presence diverts those plans and even when I’m wrong, I’m right. What would be considered a blunder from a mere mortal will become a memory of perfection and love for my husband to dote upon in our umpteenth years of marriage…
I don’t think I’m wrong to expect this. When my husband and I were dating I could do no wrong! If I said the sky was purple, the sky was purple, or he would make sure it got that way. The way he spoiled me made me feel like the world was my oyster, and he was the king that was going to shuck it for me. While he was courting me he was the exact specifications for manliness. The moon rose and set to his movements and he could save the world, make me happy and be home for dinner by 6. The world we had built around ourselves was perfect, and we loved it so much we made it official.
We are often told to ask God to change ourselves if we want to see a change in our world. God, in His infinite wisdom will choose the people closest to you to accomplish this, and if you’re married this will be your spouse. This may be when your truth changes. These will be the moments that will cause you to surely examine yourself. Evidently, even in my most noble attempts at meekness and humility I have spikes of arrogance and contempt for correction. I HATE to be wrong. Absolutely HATE being wrong. Did I mention I hate being wrong?
It wasn’t before my husband and I started our businesses that I learned the calculation of how much I hate being wrong, and what’s more that I hate is the person who is supposed to view me as perfect telling me I’m wrong.
Through my life I’ve been led to believe that if I “love” him right I can do no wrong. That as long as “it” is good he will bend to my every desire. Blame early 90’s R&B.
Yesterday after reviewing some work my husband pointed out some errors I made. At first I was cool, but every suggestion was just twisting the knife deeper and deeper into my soul (I err on the side of the dramatic). I stopped talking to him and told him I wanted nothing else to do with “his” business. I told him to take it all and do it himself. Not expecting him to, he answered with a thumbs up emoji (I was texting from my sullen state in the bathroom). Normally I would let this infuriate me but the war of the wills came in so we were both too cool. In my coolness however, I realized that it was my fault. It was all my fault. I hate to be wrong and I hate for my husband to tell me I’m wrong. Not that I think he gets any type of joy from telling me so, to me it’s just embarrassing. I’m used to being the smart kid in the room, the leader; and now the very thing I love my husband for I am giving him hell about.
I would like to be able to say that I put my big girl panties on and went and apologized. I didn’t. My King threw on his crown and came to smooth things over with his wife. (I am one lucky girl) These are the times when our personal truth changes. When we are called to mature, accept the truth and grow or wallow, be complacent and stay stuck in this place that could hold us back for another twenty years. I could only pray that my husband continues to the want the best for me. At that all the truth that changes in our lives is only for the better. In our life when the glass slipper breaks it is only to make room for a bigger and better one.
Raysurnette's Rabbithole - The Sharing of Exploration 