He has this habit of silently talking to himself while gesticulating. Sometimes, it's not so silent and it's not too difficult to make out that he's venting some frustration. He says it's his way of venting and keeping sane. But even after nearly 10 years, I find it unnerving. Probably because most of the time, it is directed at me.
He gets angry about the weirdest things. If he has a cold/cough, he gets angry, because somehow, I am responsible for it. I used to tell him that his throat weakened every time he cleared it in that loud, snorty fashion. You can literally see the kind of strain that is put on the muscles running from the base of the throat to the nose when he does that -- and usually it's for no reason. Naturally, now, his throat is weak and susceptible to infections. So every time he has a sore throat or something worse, it takes time to heal.
This time, of course, it is because of our last fight. (I have it in writing from him.) He yelled and yelled at me to shut up so that's why the throat problem happened. All I wanted was for him to just hear me out. If he was so worried about his throat, all he had to do was hear me out and then say "fine" or ended the conversation some other way. But no, it's all my fault. Like it always is.
This morning, we were so happy because of the good news about our son's eye condition and things seemed fine until (I think) I told my son I wasn't buying a toy on the way home. It was late and he's just got some stuff in the past week. I promised to get something nice on the way back from office. He (not my son) also said, "Mamma will get something good and intelligent for you."
Soon after, the silent stuff started. By the time we got home, there was some downright hostile body language accompanying the announcement that his throat was not okay even after a month. I hate the fact that that look of his still makes me scared. What do I have to be afraid of? I am not responsible for all his health problems - 90% of them stem to his childhood and he himself attributes it to his parents' carelessness or ignorance. But, of course, I'm not sympathetic enough! I don't get that. I just don't. I have to learn to ignore it. I pretend to, but deep down, it still disturbs me. And that's what I hate more than anything else: my fear.
Goal #1: Find a way out of this fear.
(Originally posted on Monday, December 24, 2007 on an earlier blog, now deleted.)