Wednesday, 11 May 2011

My 5 Min Chuck-Out Therapy Session! The Beginning of Something Good...?

He said "...weirdo..." while he walked away leaving me to try and sort out a kitchen drawer he didn't like content nor arrangement of...

He is not allowed to call me names if they aren't nice... not ever... he has said them too often, too cruelly, too vindictively... And he knows.

He'd hurt my feelings deeply, again, and for no other reason than that he doesn't like that I can't throw things away he deems to be 'rubbish'.
But they are MY things and none of it is 'rubbish' if it has a purpose!
Even if it is a Someday Purpose...

I collect and save and hoard. I know.
It is supposed to be filling this emptiness, making up for something I'm missing, I am just not quite sure what it is, this thing I haven't got.
So I need to get... and keep... for Someday.
Anything... everything!

But it makes things harder, all this stuff around me, everywhere!
If I could put it away, to keep out of sight but safe, but this house has not got enough cupboards!
I just can't let go without geting this overwhelming anxiety closing my airways and squeezing my lungs!
So I don't.

Someday I will need something just like that for something I don't know yet...
I need something to do this thing with soon and that could just be doing the trick.
Oh, and I better get some more while I'm at it, so I can use another one for somewhere else... or when this one breaks or something.
For Someday.

So, I ended up with this corner in the back of my delepidated Greenhouse, stacked with plastic drinks-bottles to supply me with a Slug-and-Snail Protection Device (as in cloche: cut top off, put up-side-down on newly emerging or nibbled shoots, leave to recover), in every shape and size you can think of.
And yes, I have used some... 5... in that way very succesfully, so that must justify the other 50 odd I kept, right?


So he'd upset me, and I pulled him up on it. He needs to make good.
Which he can't because everything is justified in his mind at all times.
But he tries, sort of, 'cause I make him and won't leave him alone until he has.
Which can take some time...

Eventually I go back to cooking (the drawer interfered) and feel upset, still...

And I am starting to get this overwhelming urge:
I need to chuck these bottles in the greenhouse out, NOW!

But I'm cooking, only got a few minutes...

I ask him to help me, would he mind... get the wheelbarrow, bring it to the greenhouse!
I need to throw something out, just do it, please?
Stop asking, just help me DO it!?!
"Now? But you're cooking!"
It will only take 5 minutes!! Quick!

They GOT Chucked-Out (apart from 6 or so...I know...) together with some plants that hadn't survived the winter and were still 'given a chance", and without him asking any more questions or offering unwanted grumblings!

You have to take it away! Otherwise I might change my mind!!
He has disappeared into the garage while I'm all hyped-up with anxiety and exhilaration.
We need to acknowledge this EPIC happening!
I threw things out, in minutes, just like that!

He looks at me, not understanding but he indulges me when I start to jump up and down and hug him tight and rub his body vigourously.
Come on, do it with me, help me get rid of this 'WHHHHHAAAAAAAAA' feeling, or I will make you run around the garden with me like a couple of sugar-high kids!
He smiles, still not quite sure.
"I'm tired and hungry"
Just do it, will you?
He obliges and shakes his head, but still smiles.

For the first time it felt he was trying to help me, without making things more difficult for me.
Is he... starting to..... accept???



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