The Manwich of my Relationship

It had been a stressful 3 days; the diagnosis was in, not the greatest news. It was not totally unexpected, sprung on me yes, but I was beginning to get used to this.  It was how this relationship worked:  my significant other (SIO) and I.

We are fiercely independent. Never wanting to worry the other with trivial things, but yet we seek each others opinion often, even on trivial matters.  As for the major issues of this week, I wanted, correction: I expected a little more. Yet neither of us is willing to give in to this war of independence.

I was explaining this to my friend.  I had been in touch with her daily, updating her throughout, explaining my frustration, with the lack of information. This morning I called again to update her.  The stress finally getting me to me, I gave in and the tears began to flow. “ Why couldn’t he let me do the littlest thing?”  I sobbed and laid my head on the steering wheel.  It was unlike me.

Explaining further to my friend, I recalled how her husband returning home one weekend, complained of illness.  He was “dying” and needed his favorite food… Manwich.  We scurried off to the grocery store to purchase the ingredients. I was completely shocked. My friend is an excellent cook and she was being asked to prepare Manwich?  I remember her shaking her head in disbelief but she prepared Manwich for her “dying” husband (He recovered fully from his sinus infection).

I sat this morning, crying in my car asking why my SIO wouldn’t let help him.   “I want to do this tiny little thing for him. I just want to fix his “Manwich!” almost shouting into the phone.  Realizing what I had said I started to laugh hysterically, tears streaming down my face.  I dug around in my car for a napkin, anything to wipe away the tears.  My friend laughed loudly at my absurd statement.    

She’s heard me say it time and time again.  “I want my independence and boundaries”.  I want to pick up and go as I please, answer to no one.  My SIO wants the same.  We both roll our eyes when friends ask when we are getting married. We are not, don’t ask again.  Having been down that road once before, neither of us has a mind to go there again. 

So why can’t I fix “Manwich”?  It’s his boundary and I’m not suppose to cross it, like my own that I protect as I do my children, fiercely!  Last night, checking in on him, I asked what he needed:  cleaning? laundry? food? I was gently reprimanded for even suggesting such things.  Boundaries.  I left him to rest in his boundaries, no “Manwich” prepared.  He was safe and sound for the time being. I had done all I could for him that day.

There will more of his boundaries I will have to cross in the next few months and he knows it. We will deal with this as he allows.  I will try not to be so fierce; try to put myself in his shoes.  Try.

I hope he likes “Manwich”

Peace.  NEPB