This weekend I had an idea. I'm sure it's not original and it already exists but... Wouldn't it be a great app if you could press a button on your cellphone and the screen would turn into a mirror? You could check yourself anywhere, anytime.
I wish I had that app. I need to check myself--about 100 times a day. Maybe with that I could see what everyone else sees. I could see what I put "out there". I could see why my daughter and my husband think they need to apologize to me all the time. I could see the looks I toss around that distort the words I say. I could start there--start being the key word.
I told Keith that all he's sees in me is anger. That's not fair. Maybe that's all I would see if I was on the outside. I do it to him too.
This weekend was indescribable. Can something be wonderful and horrible at the same time? It can and it was. It was great to see my brother. It was great to see my niece and nephew. It was great to go away for 3 days. It was great to see Lucy and Mikey laughing. It was great to see Keith relaxing, even if I ruined for him off and on.
It was horrible to actually feel Ian's absence--not that we don't all the time. I don't even know how many times I actually turned around looking for him, thinking we had lost one of the kids. I almost called out a time or two, "Wait, some one's missing." It's horrible to be doing something and think, "Ian couldn't do this. We wouldn't be doing this if Ian were here. Ian could never walk this far. Ian couldn't take this heat. Ian would just be watching them; he'd be exhausted." It's horrible to see Mikey throwing up and laugh and say, "Well it wouldn't be the Gleasons if there wasn't throwing up during a fun activity." It was horrible thinking about what souvenirs Ian would be begging for. It was horrible seeing how much his cousin has grown in a year. It was horrible to say to my brother, "We've never had the luxury to stay this long and get this tired at an amusement park," and then feel guilty about the way that sounds. The worst horrible--trying to pretend all the way home the Ian would being here playing video games when we got home, just like he was when we went to Yosemite without him.
I think maybe that might be the reason Keith and I think the other is mad all the time. How can we possibly be in this much pain unless someone is mad? It's like people describe having a phantom limb. Even if it's gone, it's still right there in the room, in the car, at the beach, in the restaurant--aching.
I think, truth be told, if I had to pinpoint the emotion that shows as anger, it would be fear. I know things can die. What if I kill my marriage, my friendships, my testimony, my children's confidence, my husband's spirit? I could be wrong. I'll admit that--upfront. Maybe it is anger all the time. Maybe there isn't room for all the rage I have to be focused inward and it's coming out all around me. I don't think everything Keith does is wrong, but he thinks I do. I don't think everything Lucy does is wrong, but she thinks I do. I think they are fantastic and even though they both think I mean it as a negative that they are so alike--I don't. I even had to go back and edit the previous post because I was worried that it might hurt Keith's feelings.
If only there were a mirror to look at that showed you your insides. Now that would be a million dollar idea!
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