My mother-in-law is a different story. She drives me nuts, sure. Things fly out of her mouth that I just choose to let fly on by, making sure Stella's out of the way so they don't stick. But with a big personality comes big affection, and sometimes big affection is exactly what you need.
Hank and I hardly ever fight. We argue. We sit and talk and reason. We try to persuade. But we don't yell much. Especially since I've been back on Sertraline.
But once we got into a huge fight. In public. Not just in public but in front of his parents and his brother and sister-in-law. I threw some pizza at him and he called me a bitch. Neither of us is proud of our behavior now, but at the moment, we were furious.
And that's when I cry. That's not the only time I cry. I also cry when picking out greeting cards and while watching commericals for laundry detergent, but I'm at my soggiest when enraged.
I got into my own car and drove home. Thank God I had my seatbelt on and other cars were driving defensively. Hank had his own car since he got off work late. That was the argument. I had the time--and the place--all mixed up. I said I was sorry and when he didn't accept that I felt he was overreacting. He thought I was being insensitive and selfish. It was an awful fight. The worst we've ever had for sure.
I got home miraculously through tear stained eyes and foggy glasses. I ran into my room, flopped on the bed face first and started sobbing. The dogs jumped on the bed so I got up to let them out, my chest heaving and snot rolling down my face as I walked to the back door to let the dogs go potty. I felt exhausted. Like I hadn't slept in months. I just wanted to lie down. I sat on the floor with the back door open, waiting for the dogs to come back in. I couldn't leave them out or they'd bark all night.
Both dogs licked my cheeks as they came in and tried to paw me with sympathy as I sat on the floor. I allowed them to for a moment. Then I got up and went back to bed. I removed my glasses this time. I was lucky they didn't crush a few minutes ago. I pulled the covers over my head and quietly cried while both dogs and the cat keep guard on top of the bed.
Just a couple minutes after we'd all quieted down, the dogs started going crazy. They ran to see who was opening the front door. My body tensed. It was probably Hank.
I hear a female voice, "No! No! Down! DOWN!" she was yelling at the dogs. "Hellooooow? Sydney, are you in here?" She came to the door and saw the lump in the bed.
And then the weirdest thing. She came and lied down with me. She spooned me and rocked me and gently brushed the hair off my wet face. She whispered, "It's ok. It's ok. Don't worry. My son can be a jerk sometimes. I'm sure it was a misunderstanding. We all love you so much."
I was bawling then. Like lying on my back, mouth wide open, making animalistic death calls. Hank's mom didn't let go. She hugged me harder the harder I cried. It felt both so weird and so so wonderful. I never felt that my grief was so accepted and that I wouldn't die from it. I knew everything would be ok. Nothing was said. I felt it simply from my mother-in-law's embrace of me at my worst.
Hank showed up a few minutes later and took over his Mom's spot spooning me. It's funny how I didn't feel like crying anymore once I realized it was ok to cry. As Hank's mom walked down the hallway to go home, Hank and I stared at each other. He had his arm around me and it was heavy but in a good protective way. "You called me a bitch." I pouted.
"You threw pizza at my face." He stared back and licked his lips.
My husband is so hot. And so sweet. He misses out on so many family gatherings because he works late shifts. I'm rather time-challenged and forget where I'm supposed to be at any given moment, so it's difficult for me to keep track of just myself, let alone my entire family's whereabouts.
"I'm sorry." I said and kissed him gently on the lips. "I didn't mean to leave you out."
He smiled. "Thank you. I'm sorry too."
I waited for him to say more. Finally I asked, "Why are you sorry too?"
He began kissing my mouth and my neck and rubbing his hands down my sides. He stopped kissing, looked up at my face, smiled and said, "If I'm gonna make you yell it's more fun to make you yell with pleasure."
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