Is. It. My. Turn.

I can be crabby, and unsatisfied, and negative, and…well the list could go on but you get the idea. I’m a planner and if things don’t go as planned I get flustered. I also expect people to behave in a respectable manner, and to use their brains, and when it doesn’t happen I want there to be justice for it. And I can get obsessed when there is no visible justice. I have high expectations for what we accomplish and when we fall short I feel uneasy and like we’ve failed. And it turns out, in recent years, when I’m faced with a multitude of challenges I’ve simply thrown up my hands.


This isn’t how it used to be. I am, at heart, an optimist. The cheerleader, the one saying “it’s not only going to be okay it’s going to be GREAT,” the one rallying the troops. When my husband and I had our tough years I was still the one saying “we can do this!!!” Once we got through it, however, I was just SO. TIRED. And I turned into this weird combination of who I really am and this other broad who isn’t so positive all the time and isn’t so willing to rally the troops.

My husband found himself acting as the cheerleader. The one trying to cheer ME up, trying to motivate ME, trying to make ME feel better, telling ME how great things were going to be. I’m not sure I’ve done a proper job of telling him and/or showing him how so very grateful I am that he stepped into this role when I found myself unable to do it anymore.

I’m well aware that marriages have ups and downs, that it’s a balancing act of epic proportions, that one of us may struggle and that the other has to step up, and that it is a ton of work. In our tenure as a couple, we have had plenty of times in which we’re both in a great place and we move forward at the speed of light enjoying every second. But we’ve also spent a good amount of time with one of us pulling the other forward and the other dragging their feet.

My lovely husband…he works an incredibly demanding job that can always use more of his energy and time, he goes to school on weekends, and he runs a small business with very little help from me. 90% of the time he does all of it with enthusiasm and a great attitude while, in addition, being a phenomenal father and husband. But there are days that it weighs on him. He starts to feel like he should be working more, and should be working harder at his schoolwork, and that he should be doing more to promote the small business. In those times he doesn’t withdraw, per se, he’s just off. Not negative, not overly crabby, just off.

It’s times like that when I realize just what he’s forced to deal with when I’m being ridiculous. And it makes me sad. I can do better…I can be a better partner. I’m not saying I can do MORE…both of our plates are too full…but I can be more positive. I can be the cheerleader that I am at heart. I can stop being such a baby about some things. I can be the sparkly, positive, and enthusiastic girl that he fell in love with.

You know how, when things are really rough…or you’ve gone through something horrible, you can turn into a cynical/sarcastic/wah-wah downer from time to time? Or…okay fine…I’ll speak for myself and say that this happens to me. Well the thing is…maybe it’s funny sometimes…but it’s really no fun to live with.

He’s busy right now, it’s the end of the trimester and he’s sure he’s failing (like he is every trimester even though he has something like a 3.8 GPA), he feels overwhelmed, the taxes, the trade shows, etc. It is my turn to rally the troops, even if they don’t want to be rallied. It’s my turn to stay positive even if he doesn’t respond by snapping out of it. It’s my turn to say “it’s going to be a GREAT weekend!” and to tell him over and over how good he is. Even if I have to put on my f-cking cheerleading uniform from 11th grade just to make him laugh at me…it is MY turn already.

TODAY: What if it’s my turn to be the cheerleader and help my husband understand just how good he is. And…here’s a thought…what if focusing less on all of my BS actually helps me stay on track because I won’t be obsessing about it all so much?

3 thoughts on “Is. It. My. Turn.

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