Disharmonic Convergence

I confess. I actually care quite a bit. Talking with my therapist today, I gave my wife a lot of slack about not having given me a gift for my birthday, Father's Day, and our anniversary. I gave her credit for evidence of inner conflict, about whether she should listen to her heart or her head. Her heart says to buy me some earrings or some other trifle that my girl side would adore. Her head says that a gift of that nature might be the tipping point that sends me off to a joyous femme life without her.

That's all supposition, of course. I can't hear her heart or her head, at least since I started wearing an aluminum foil hat. My therapist got me to admit that it hurts a bit, not feeling validated by my spouse. I want to give her the benefit of the doubt, but the clock is ticking. I still hear that.

At work this evening, I was talking with my wife on the phone. She was telling me that a favorite top of hers was available again at Meijer's, in many more colors. It is a very cute and flattering garment. I said, only half in jest, that I would like to have one. She curtly replied that we aren't going to talk about that. And so, we didn't. We talked awhile longer, but I had checked out. I'm starting to drop broad hints now about the gift situation, and she's going in reverse.

I feel stupid for caring about this. My male socialization still holds me firmly, causing me to doubt my reasons and my right to feel this way. It feels weak to me. I want to be vulnerable. I don't want to fear that. I want to have an open heart, admitting all comers. I'm just not sure how to open that door, and leave it open.

After the phone call, I settled back into work, and began listening to the final disc of the Catch-22 audiobook. I read the novel five or six times in my youth, my favorite book, but I haven't cracked it in over twenty years. It's been a revelation all over again especially having it read to me. I knew what was coming in the story. Snowden slowly dying and Yossarian recoiling in horror when he discovers Snowden's secret. I wept. The sadness overwhelmed me, and the tears flowed. I cried for Snowden and Yossarian and for me.

The wife was up when I got home. We did some debriefing about the day, but I said nothing about what was on my mind. Probably should've, but I wanted to write things down here instead. A heart-to-heart does seem to be looming, though. This issue isn't going to go away.