27 | August | 2010 | Existential Ennui

Tags

depression, life in the meadow, lifestyle, marriage, Mental Health, Security, stress, The Contrarian

Okay, so life has been a little stressful lately. Well, a lot stressful. It may surprise you, but when two people live together 24/7, it can get a bit dicey sometimes. Love can only take you so far ya know.

At the center of our misery is the Bronco. A full week and nearly one-half later, and it still sits without real brakes.

You have to understand the country town mechanic to get this. They tend to be rather strange, loner individuals. They work on their own schedules, and they don’t much need the work.

So we keep getting pushed down the line. Plus he wants us to leave it there, and that means finding a ride. And our ride’s phone is out. (we can drive with what are called “mechanical brakes” which work but aren’t shall we say giving you the “stop on a dime” capability.

So, we, the Contrarian and I and having our stress issues.

And, shockingly, we don’t handle it the same way. I am (typically?) female. I wanna talk it out. I am also a bit of a pessimist, which is good, since I’m usually the one who is right, things always go bad most of the time. I have depressive tendencies, and so I pout, look morose, and snap at people and animals.

The Contrarian is male. He likes to ruminate. He doesn’t want to talk. He likes to handle his stress and depression with diversionary behavior.

To me, it looks like doesn’t care much about the issue of the bronco. He is constantly looking at me and asking “is something wrong?”

Something????? Yeah, how bout everything, I scream silently. I seethed, and wonder what planet is he on. I then punish him by saying, “No, not a thing.” And go back to cursing the day I met him.

I wait for him to tell me what he now plans. He never offers. I wait. I seethed, I curse.

He sits. And sits. But he is ruminating. And as he now tells me, he finds himself at times like this when his plan has gone awry, in a frozen state. He becomes inactive. Until finally he is able to work out another plan. Until then, he is silent.

I can understand that. Now that I know.

I explain. I never had much insecurity as a child. There were never any discussions about not having enough of anything. There were no discussions about putting off this purchase until some bills were paid.

When I left home as an adult, financial security was prime with me. I usually maintained it very well. I like options. I like agreed upon alternative plans. I like security.

I know, I know. Security is illusory, and if only fundamentalists got this, the world would be a better place. Security is not humanity’s lot in life. Never has been and never will be. Until we can defy death (believers of course excluded), we will always be insecure.

But I mean the normal kind of security. The common sense planning that we all do, or should, to ensure that we can survive. The tornado shelter, the savings account, that sort of thing.

Living in the meadow has made me feel very insecure. Weather has the power to dictate when I can leave it and when not. We have only one operative vehicle. Things like that make me insecure.

Apparently such things don’t much bother the Contrarian. Security is a certain amount of insulation from the world that I am finding increasingly hard to bear all the time. Solitude seems to make him comfortable, while I have started to find it more stifling.

Weird how two people can live together for eleven plus years, and still find so much they do not understand about each other.

We are in a better place today. We have talked it out. We understand each others ways of dealing with high drama stress better. I know he’s not just ignoring problems. He knows my bad moods reflect worry. We can be kinder and gentler to each other.

It makes me wonder if other married or long-term partnered people find new things about their other after years of being together. It was a bit of a shock to me, finding out a couple of things my Contrarian divulged. No doubt he got a surprise at some of my interior mechanisms.

Are we weird? Or what?