My husband would make a lovely king. He loves to be sequestered away, only to come out on gallant occasions. He acts entitled that everyone around him should live and act by his opinions. He expects that everything go his way, and complains when they don’t. He loves to be doted upon and when he is in the room, he wants to be the center of attention, always.
This is a problem. Expectations don’t measure up to reality.
Reality is, that we are just a simple family, trying to survive. Murphy’s law wins out frequently in our house, if something can go wrong, it will. I am not a “glass is half empty” sort of gal, but a “glass is filled to the brim- but spills over and makes a mess daily” sort of person. I don’t long after the spilt milk, or complain that I have to pick it up. I just do. That is the way life is. Life is supposed to be hard. Bad things happen. But we still have cool, wonderful milk to drink. For that I can be thankful for, even if mine is only Rice Milk.
I grew up with my Mom saying, “Life is but a bowl of cherries; It’s all pits.” I realize that this was her way of getting me prepared to face a difficult life ahead. I am glad I don’t have a rosy view that is forever disappointed. But what ever happened to enjoying the sweet, cherries while you have them?
Sigh, my husband comes in the front door. Not home a second and he is already sighing. He complains that the kids are too loud. He sighs that the water doesn’t come out fast enough for him, the computer is too slow, his socks are too wet, because he didn’t hang them up. And why aren’t my keys where I can find them? Even though he didn’t put them where they were supposed to go.
Nothing goes right for him. He sighs more than he smiles. It makes me sad. Why can’t he just realize that life is supposed to have things go terribly wrong, but that he just needs to pick up the pieces and make the most of it? I do. I am exhausted picking up, picking up, picking up, his stuff, my stuff, everyone’s stuff. But I go on, never complaining, or sighing.
We can be eating a lovely dinner, relaxing and he sighs. He is forever unsatisfied.
When the world is crashing down around us, I want to look around and be grateful that I have a roof, and food and warm water. I need positives around me, because I am no Pollyanna. I get discouraged too.
How would you deal with the habitual sigh? I guess I try to ignore it as much as possible. That is my coping mechanism.
Thanks for listening.