There was another conversation that echoed one that occurred several months ago. She thinks that we need to "go out to dinner" to have a real conversation. I think that we could have had a real conversation the last time my family was at their house. She tells me, you know I love you so much. Yep, heard that before.
I wonder, if you love me so much, then why don't you ever engage me in a real conversation? Why do I squash it all down only to explode and point out all the times you fail to ask about me and what I'm doing? That it's always a quick, "how are the boys?" before launching into whatever you want to tell me about so and so.
I wonder, if you understand what it's like to be a parent, do you say that we need to come over for dinner more often? Especially after hearing that we are going to both grandparents once a month, which then leaves little time for us?
I wonder, if you love me, you ask in a tentative way if you can just drop over? You know I can't have drop-over visits. I've made that clear. Nobody drops over to our house. It's not how S and I function. Why, if you love me, do you ask me to do things that I clearly have never ever invited?
I was assertive, I was able to make my points in a calm'ish voice, but I was clearly upset. I flashed back over and over and over again to the conversation that happened in January. It was the same.
Pretty sure I did none of this the way Therapist wants me to. Am I perpetuating the whole nasty cycle by not being able to couch it in a different way? By being so afraid to bring any of this up, that by the time I get sick of myself being such a fucking coward that the only way it comes out is with an undercurrent of anger, no matter how I try to make my point?
When I got home, I could barely contain the shame and self-loathing that I can't say what I need to say in the way that it needs to be said. I exploded more at the dinner table. My oldest son got scared. I had to explain to him that sometimes I have trouble with my emotions. That sometimes I feel so frustrated and angry than I can’t contain it. I want to be open with him that there is a struggle. He's not part of it, but sometimes he's affected by it.
When I wonder if I'm just making everything worse by going to therapy and trying to work through what has become an increasingly difficult relationship, I stop. I remind myself that there is a reason why I felt a strong need to learn how to parent from other sources. Why I felt like I need to learn how to parent with empathy. Because, I didn't get that. I didn't feel heard.