Husband and I, for all that we can be some serious lazy-asses, are actually very intense people for the most part. What we love, we love passionately, and god save everyone if we get into pissy moods. The problem is that we often won’t see the mood we are in, because we ‘feel normal’, which really just means something along the lines of (for me) ‘I’m so used to being depressed again that I forget other people aren’t this angry and tired all the time’ or (for him) ‘I want things this way, why can’t I have that?’
What pisses me off really, though, is that we are so used to being out of sorts after a while that we’ll actually be just fine, but one will assume the other is upset, and then it all just snowballs because of some ridiculous comment. Most recently, I was sitting at our table waiting for our impromptu game to begin, when one of the roomies asked what was wrong. I told her nothing, that I was just tired (true) but kept to myself that I wasn’t really in the mood to be playing a game, no matter how much I love them.
I wasn’t upset, or angry, or even grumpy as I was soon thereafter called. I just wasn’t feeling great, and then it felt like people were attacking me because once the roomie asked, everyone else started in. They never did point out what exactly made me grumpy outside of the way I behaved after they started asking about my mood. The only thing I can think of that might have seemed that way before was that I uncharacteristically monopolized the huge tv in the common area to play a video game instead of for watching Logo or giving it to someone else, which I’m also wont to do because my taste in tv does not match the four guys I was hanging out with at that point.
When Husband started in (immediately after roomie, as though he was waiting for it), I was entirely too defensive, which just served his opinion that I was grumpy. The problem was that I was seeing him as grumpy, too. I cannot honestly tell you if either of us was actually in a foul mood before all that started, because the whole thing just bugged me so much that I’m still reacting a bit to it.
The Incident, as I really want to call it, now feels like a distant dream of a skirmish, because once we really got the game going, we of course mostly settled down and let the fight go. It is only now as I’m thinking of it, and attempting to lay it out for your consumption, that I’m feeling riled about it. It isn’t festering, except when I almost force it to. Luckily, most of my fights with Husband are like that. They are the result of a shared bad mood that is easily forgiven, because it was more about letting off steam than any actual disagreement.
I know others that worry more about that sort of argument or disagreement, thinking of the day when it won’t be forgiven and forgotten, or at least dropped. I can’t see the world that way. I feel like the world is a place of angry and destruction and resentment as much as a place of love and beauty and hope. I call that being a realist.
And anyway, as my favorite Russian poet (the only one I know, whatever) says, “life is interesting when you’re furious!”