The person I need to talk to most is the one who I fear wants to hear it least. In my eyes, he seems fine each day, moving through life much easier than I feel I can.
Ryan and I fight often now. Not the major blow outs where he ends up on a drive to cool down and I panic from my abandonment issues. But we just don't get along. And he pointed that out today after I had been crying in the car after another disagreement. To that I replied that we need to talk more, but I feel like he doesn't want to hear it. It was painful to get out, but I expressed how much I am still grieving, which has changed me and how I react to him on a daily basis. I'm negative. And I laid out everything I'm angry about right now; friends, feeling jealous, the exhaustion, work, and effing babies everywhere I look.
The last thing we want to focus on is the pain, but I can't get away from it still. I said that he should be who I turn to, not a once-a-month support group. And he confessed he is still grieving too. It's just so different between the two of us that it's hard to come together to move forward.
We look at things differently; like what it means to have another child, even the timing of when to think about trying again. And we're pushing each other, even though it's completely maddening to do so. But we have to keep doing that, pushing and talking. And yet we have to have patience.
Because despite the pain, we got a lotta love to give.
Ryan and I fight often now. Not the major blow outs where he ends up on a drive to cool down and I panic from my abandonment issues. But we just don't get along. And he pointed that out today after I had been crying in the car after another disagreement. To that I replied that we need to talk more, but I feel like he doesn't want to hear it. It was painful to get out, but I expressed how much I am still grieving, which has changed me and how I react to him on a daily basis. I'm negative. And I laid out everything I'm angry about right now; friends, feeling jealous, the exhaustion, work, and effing babies everywhere I look.
The last thing we want to focus on is the pain, but I can't get away from it still. I said that he should be who I turn to, not a once-a-month support group. And he confessed he is still grieving too. It's just so different between the two of us that it's hard to come together to move forward.
We look at things differently; like what it means to have another child, even the timing of when to think about trying again. And we're pushing each other, even though it's completely maddening to do so. But we have to keep doing that, pushing and talking. And yet we have to have patience.
Because despite the pain, we got a lotta love to give.
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