Telephone Blues in Open Diary 2001-2018 (Pre-Prosebox)

No. We didn’t have a good conversation when I called him last night. It went something like this:

Ugh.

Whenever Grrrrr or I go away on a trip, the other leaves a little note or drawing or picture on the noteboard on the fridge so that there’s always a message. I drew this one this morning. Grrrr gets home tonight. I may or may not be home depending on a few things: (1) If I can get out of the office…some jackass scheduled a meeting for me at 5:00!, (2) If I can get out of the Super Target at some point—must pick up prescription, lightbulbs, t-paper, etc., etc…. (3) If Ally will go to dinner with me. I doubt I’ll be home.

So Grrrr and I talked on the phone about how we are not so good at talking on the phone. It was ridiculous and mostly silent and I wanted to say so many smart and relationship- healing things, but nothing…NOTHING came to mind.

I have so many great “plans” about how I’m going to avoid a fight or become the most easy-going person. Sometimes it helps to write it here, but sometimes…dammit! My plans fall by the wayside in the heat of the moment. Why can’t I control my shit? What has happened to me? He pushes my buttons at every single turn. And I let them get pushed. And then I hate myself for letting them be pushed. So I push right back.

Are we doomed? I’m seriously starting to question….

That’s rhetorical. I know this shit is old. But it is what it is right now and I need to document for whatever reason. I’m still in it 100%. I’m not going to bail on this one. And if I end up getting burned, then so be it.