Post by tigerlily on Feb 1, 2009 23:16:03 GMT
'Me and my big mouth', she muttered. Yet again, she'd opened it without thinking, and screamed like a deranged fishwife.
She never seemed to learn that the art of communication is a skill that should be exercised daily. They'd both lived alone for a long time, and moving in together was bound to be difficult at first. They both had habits of varying degrees of annoyance, but this wasn't a habit of his, as such, that had lead to this latest eruption. No, it was more the case that they were still getting used to having someone else around.
It was such a silly, minor thing to have lost her temper with him for. She knew the second the air stopped ringing from the sound of her angry voice that it was a mistake to have shouted. Really, it was something that she should have spoken to him about, quietly and calmly, some time ago. She'd quietly grumbled at him when he'd done it before, and he'd stopped immediately. She thought he'd realised how annoying she found it...but it had happened again.
Both of them were a little bit blue. He because he so often was, she because - well, let's just say that it was a hormone thing.
Deep down, it hurt her that she wasn't able to do anything to help lighten his mood. Not always, at least. She'd hoped that things would be different once they were living together, that there were things she could do to make his life a little easier, a little more pleasant. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, though, or so they say, and motivation was at times in short supply.
He'd been quiet the rest of the evening. She sat up for a long time, worrying. Worrying about what she'd said, even though he'd told her it was all right every time she'd apologised. She knew he hated it when she kept apologising, but she felt as wretched and miserable as he looked, and that hurt.
As she climbed the stairs to go to bed, he was just coming down. They spoke, briefly, just a couple of words. When he did come back to bed, he turned on his side with his back to her, with a pillow between them. Her heart died a little more, then, and more still when he shrugged her arm from around him.
When she awoke, the bed was empty save for her and the obligatory cat or two. She walked slowly back down the stairs, hoping for a smile or a cheery greeting. There was none. She stayed long enough to collect a drink and to feed the cats, then returned upstairs where she spent the rest of the afternoon.
They spoke a little, later on. Enough to agree on dinner. They exchanged comments on a couple of news items. It was clear, though, that his mood was still low and his anger high. Not anger at her. That was almost the worst thing. Work was busy, there were problems with some software that couldn't be resolved, and a vital piece of work he was trying to complete before a long trip overseas was unavoidably delayed. He'd promised to complete it before he left, and had been working for hours, sometimes all night, to achieve it. The lack of sleep didn't help his mood.
There had been times like this before. No doubt there would be again. She hoped there would be again. Not because she wanted either of them to be unhappy, but because it would mean that they had been happy together once more.
Loving another person is often not an easy thing. No, that's wrong...loving him was easy. But mutual love and respect and affection is no guarantee of happiness, does not insure you against the effects of depression or overwork or worrying about the future.
It is possible to be happy ever after, together. Just not all of the time. Happiness is an elusive beast. Contentment is easier to achieve. Easier by far. Overall, though, she would describe herself as happy. Happy to love him and to be loved by him. Happy to have turned her back on her home and her job and what life she'd had to be with him. No, there are no guarantees where happiness is concerned. But better by far to be together than to live apart still, and living for the times when they could be together.
She never seemed to learn that the art of communication is a skill that should be exercised daily. They'd both lived alone for a long time, and moving in together was bound to be difficult at first. They both had habits of varying degrees of annoyance, but this wasn't a habit of his, as such, that had lead to this latest eruption. No, it was more the case that they were still getting used to having someone else around.
It was such a silly, minor thing to have lost her temper with him for. She knew the second the air stopped ringing from the sound of her angry voice that it was a mistake to have shouted. Really, it was something that she should have spoken to him about, quietly and calmly, some time ago. She'd quietly grumbled at him when he'd done it before, and he'd stopped immediately. She thought he'd realised how annoying she found it...but it had happened again.
Both of them were a little bit blue. He because he so often was, she because - well, let's just say that it was a hormone thing.
Deep down, it hurt her that she wasn't able to do anything to help lighten his mood. Not always, at least. She'd hoped that things would be different once they were living together, that there were things she could do to make his life a little easier, a little more pleasant. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, though, or so they say, and motivation was at times in short supply.
He'd been quiet the rest of the evening. She sat up for a long time, worrying. Worrying about what she'd said, even though he'd told her it was all right every time she'd apologised. She knew he hated it when she kept apologising, but she felt as wretched and miserable as he looked, and that hurt.
As she climbed the stairs to go to bed, he was just coming down. They spoke, briefly, just a couple of words. When he did come back to bed, he turned on his side with his back to her, with a pillow between them. Her heart died a little more, then, and more still when he shrugged her arm from around him.
When she awoke, the bed was empty save for her and the obligatory cat or two. She walked slowly back down the stairs, hoping for a smile or a cheery greeting. There was none. She stayed long enough to collect a drink and to feed the cats, then returned upstairs where she spent the rest of the afternoon.
They spoke a little, later on. Enough to agree on dinner. They exchanged comments on a couple of news items. It was clear, though, that his mood was still low and his anger high. Not anger at her. That was almost the worst thing. Work was busy, there were problems with some software that couldn't be resolved, and a vital piece of work he was trying to complete before a long trip overseas was unavoidably delayed. He'd promised to complete it before he left, and had been working for hours, sometimes all night, to achieve it. The lack of sleep didn't help his mood.
There had been times like this before. No doubt there would be again. She hoped there would be again. Not because she wanted either of them to be unhappy, but because it would mean that they had been happy together once more.
Loving another person is often not an easy thing. No, that's wrong...loving him was easy. But mutual love and respect and affection is no guarantee of happiness, does not insure you against the effects of depression or overwork or worrying about the future.
It is possible to be happy ever after, together. Just not all of the time. Happiness is an elusive beast. Contentment is easier to achieve. Easier by far. Overall, though, she would describe herself as happy. Happy to love him and to be loved by him. Happy to have turned her back on her home and her job and what life she'd had to be with him. No, there are no guarantees where happiness is concerned. But better by far to be together than to live apart still, and living for the times when they could be together.