Garage Sailing is a dangerous sport for Heidi Esther. Will her recovering soul now figure out how to enjoy it with her practical adversary, her wife? For the first part of the story, click here!
The Ship takes a Nosedive
Stacey comes over and looks down to a colorful set of six plastic paper plate holders in my hand. She pauses, and begins.
“Sweetheart, we used to have these exact ones and we never used them. And we don’t have any paper plates. You remember – the last time we had paper plates was our wedding six years ago? And paper plate holders aren’t on the list,” she says, pointing to the piece of paper in my hand. A third cash register receipt.
I can’t take it any longer.
“Stacey, I like garage sailing because I get to envision how I could use new things in my life, even if they are not on the list.” I say through gritted teeth.
“Okay, well, I don’t want to buy those because we already had those and got rid of them.” she says, with that look in her eye.
Sailing into Dangerous Waters
“Well, I’m done garage sailing. We can go to the farmer’s market now.”
I am so frustrated, I can’t even speak to her on the short walk to the car. My head is a freight train.
Why does she have to be so practical about garage sailing? That’s not what it’s about. It’s almost impossible to find things on a list – it’s not like Amazon. Why can’t she even discuss what we could use stuff for? Or, do we have so little money that I shouldn’t even be garage sailing? The last seems impossible, as Stacey has tripled our savings during the pandemic. So, why is she raining over my garage sale parade?
We get in the car. I take a couple deep breaths.
“Okay, I want to let you know that I’m angry.” I start.
“No shit, Sherlock.” she responds, starting to drive us to the farmer’s market.
“I am very frustrated by the reactions I received from you while looking at items at garage sales. And I still love you. And I am sorry that I’m pissy. Last, I need to know first if we have money problems.” I say.
“No, we’re fine with money.” She rebounds.
“Okay, good. So, what’s your deal then?” I ask, like the point of a knife.
Stacey’s whole body tenses. I can tell that wasn’t the best wording. She turns to look at me with the look.
“Well, what’s your deal?” she throws back at me.
“I’m trying to have a good time, like we used to!” I say, exasperated.
“Me too!” Stacey responds.
I take another deep breath.
Muddier Waters
“Okay, I’m sorry about my spiciness. Let me try to rephrase…why can’t…how come…. Ok. What are your goals for garage sailing?”
“I dunno. Spending time with you and looking for items on the list.” Stacey responds, her shoulders relax.
“Okay, so that’s where we differ. I like looking at everything.” I pronounce. I am at an impasse.
It’s a quiet rest of the car ride to the farmer’s market. We do not hold hands like usual. Instead, I focus on seasonal produce. But the only real conversation is going on in my head.
Garage sailing was something I loved, now it’s in relationship-liability land. My hands clench. I try to relax them when I notice, as if that will relax me. But I am unable to say anything (nice). So, I don’t.
Before we get back to the car, Stacey stops walking.
“Heidi. I want to let you know that I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I’ve never seen you behave like this in our relationship.” she says. I look at her face, and her eyes are shining.
Geeze, what’s her deal? I’m the one with the ruined morning! I think that to myself because there would be a 100% chance I would get the look. Again.
Clearing Skies
At home, I go to my room, wrap myself in my Winnie the Pooh blanket, and pull out my journal. Time to work out the layers.
The first words come out spicy. Like I’m making my case. And invalidating Staceys.
The next words come out only about me. What I did. What I tried to say. How I tried to communicate. What went down.
I pause. I still feel tense, but a little lighter.
The third try gives me gratitude. Gratitude for what I said or didn’t. Gratitude for how my wife showed up in awareness with no yelling.
The last two rounds: I forgive myself for slipping into automaticity and being passive aggressive. I write down some affirmations. And I cry for a little bit. Then, wrapped in my Winnie the Pooh kimono-style, I shuffle into the living room to apologize and thank her.
After apologies, I let her know that I love her AND I plan to go garage sailing by myself from now on. My heart sings, a wave of relief floods over both of our faces.
POEM Dessert for Life
These feelings, layers of your life’s parfait. Each moment, layers of your heart to see. Miraculous, gentle, raging, blessings. Your life task: to eat, not throw or rationalize your layers. Which, my friend, is too easy to do. Thirty-three years, I ignored my own. And ended up with a hundred pound parfait of sad, resentful peanuts. What a stomachache.
The SoulJourner QUESTion
Journaling. Yes, it’s a thing. And a potentially helpful tool for your heart, too!
You know that notebook that’s gathering dust on your shelf? Yep, that one someone bought you awhile back? With the cool, snap on the front. It can help you eat your Feelings Parfait!
SIDE NOTES: The full guide for The Feelings Parfait, I’m excited to share, will be in the companion workbook to my book!
Why Journaling? It got me to Acceptance. Acceptance of my wife’s experience and feelings. Acceptance of my hanged experience from when my kids were little. By calming down, sitting with, and writing out my experience, I was able to “eat” through the layers of my Feelings Parfait. First, I felt angry, annoyed, frustrated, and disappointed. After I felt those, I let in other layers: gratitude, love, and, then finally, acceptance.
- Find a private place and calming down
- Write out your experience and any head-talk you had about yourself/others.
- Acknowledging all the feelings you have without judgement.
- Bring self-compassion and forgiveness to the forefront. Make plans to apologize or set new boundaries if you need to.
- End with an affirmation “I am a human-in-progress.” “I feel my feelings and don’t let them own me.” Or, “my feelings are part of me.” “I am a kind human.”
