I missed therapy last week because I was “having a good week” and “didn’t want to ruin it”. Hence why I am in intensive therapy to begin with.
Now, I’m sitting in the middle of my kitchen
next to a stack of cases,
trying to write a Legal Answer for work,
whilst crying all over my keyboard.
[I’m always crying.]
…Except I can’t clearly explain exactly WHY I’m crying tonight.
WHEN I CAN’T EXPLAIN MYSELF, MY THERAPIST ALWAYS TELLS ME TO START WITH SINGLE WORDS.
If I had to start somewhere tonight, I’d say “overwhelmed”. Summer is finally here, and while I am happy to be able to spend so much time with my kid, the “school is out” honeymoon phase with her has already run its course. Plus, summer isn’t as fun when gas is damn near $3 a gallon and your mother is a 28-year old unpaid intern. That’s still a joke, in itself…
Nevertheless, she makes my coffee every morning and she is finally old enough to wash the dog by herself, and for that, I’m grateful.
Then, there’s my amazing boyfriend. Our relationship has been eerily perfect since our latest reunion. We just celebrated our [fake] one-year anniversary last week because who counts breakups anyways?
Truth be told, our last breakup was so taxing that we both elected to commit to individual AND couple’s therapy to give us more tools as we rebuild. It’s been mind-blowingly satisfying. So good, I missed therapy last week and now I’m in my kitchen “boo-hoo” crying over a bag.
“It’s not about the bag”, I kept screaming at him…[as every overly-emotional girlfriend does when her boyfriend asks her what the real issue is].
But, It’s not just any bag. It’s the bag I wanted. It’s the bag I verbally asked for when I struggle to verbally ask for anything ever.
I DON’T USUALLY STUTTER, BUT...
There are those of us who have no problem saying what we want from life. Then, there are those of us who just naturally live to serve others. I get so much joy from giving my last to someone else. [READ: I will be broke for the rest of my life] I watch my friends ask their significant others for everything: from $40 for a fill-in to $1200 Louboutins.
Meanwhile, I PHYSICALLY struggle to fix my mouth to say the words “I want…” or “I need…” to another human being unless it’s a sweet tea from McDonalds or a 2 for $5 slice of cake from the Publix bakery.
I’m sure this stems back to some childhood trauma I could’ve potentially worked through in the therapy sessions I keep skipping, but let’s continue.
So, I just had my law school graduation ceremony a few weeks ago. Law school was (and still is) the most trying feat I’ve ever took on. I am still in awe of how I’ve matriculated through it. I’ve spent the last few days mapping out deadlines and squeezing my budget.
$400 fee to complete the fitness application.
$350 fee to apply to take the exam.
…and that’s just for one of the TWO states I’ll be testing in.
BUT- I’ve also been incandescently proud of myself. I told myself, this one time, I wanted to have something to commemorate what I had accomplished and where I was going next.
This is worth celebrating, right?
I wanted a leather carrying bag with my name engraved to carry into court. For some reason, in my mind, it was a symbol of progression and me finally trying to get my shit together…and finally having something to carry it all in. It meant something to me.
I can’t recall where the courage just appeared from that day, but I found remember scrolling on Amazon. I found the cutest, off-brand “pleather” bag for no more than $200. It. Let me engrave my name across the top and I. was already picturing exactly which pocket was going to carry my good pens. I copied the link and sent it to him that day.
“Baby. Pleeeeeeease please please please. Best graduation gift ever.”- the text read.
Who did I think I was…? Lol. I was out here sending purchase links and having expectations of others and shit. My god.
[In hindsight, I could’ve bought the bag myself. I wonder if it was really about the bag or just the idea of someone else thinking about me. So back to tonight…]
When I met my boyfriend, we had a running joke that his name was “Efficient Eldredge” because there was literally nothing he couldn’t execute on the fly. Whether it be last-minute, with little to no resources, and/or from scratch. He would get a text/call and his token one-word response was: “Done.”
Throughout the course of our relationship, I made it one of my goals to mirror that for him. I pride myself on listening intently for his needs (as well as the kid’s and the household’s) and being able to quickly execute…even with little to no instruction. I am the QUEEN on to-do lists and iPhone notes. My token response: “Got it.”
I’m talking 24-hour turnaround. Next-day shipping. Mmkay?
Tonight, he made a simple request for something he needed for work and I immediately hopped on Google for pricing. I jokingly mentioned to him how I was still waiting on my one request…as weeks were now passing.
He laughed nervously. I thought it was because he realized that so much time had passed. Then I watched his eyebrows go from “nervous laugh” to “wtf is she talking about”…swiftly.
It didn’t take us both long to realize that he had absolutely no clue what I was talking about.
My therapist told me to give myself a minute to process conflict, using a series of questions:
1. Are you really mad? Is there good reason?
2. Can you let it go?
3. Are you really mad at the person in front of you? Or is it someone/thing else?
4. Can you let it go?
I quickly ran through the questions in my head. “Yes, No, okay…maybe”, and ended up deciding that maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal and maybe I just needed a nap. I was tripping…
UPDATE: I WASN’T TRIPPING.
I woke up and my answers hadn’t changed. Yes, I was really mad. No, I couldn’t let it go. Yes, I deserved the cheap-ass bag I had asked for after all the groceries I had carried up three flights of stairs by myself for him. And all the times I stayed up late cutting up fruit for him to take to work. And all the times he waited until the day of to tell me a bill was due. And all the times I cooked AND washed the dishes after…
[Because these are the things that overly-emotional girlfriends start thinking about when they want to convince themselves that they put more physical and emotional effort into the relationship than their boyfriend does. Carry on…]
So, I’m in my bed FUMING.
I could not, for the life of me, understand how I could remember all the things he told me he needed ON A DAILY BASIS…and he couldn’t even remember the ONE thing I asked for.
“ALL THE THINGS I DO FOR HIM. ALL THE THINGS I BALANCE. YOU WOULD THINK HE WOULD BE THE LEAST BIT APPRECIA….”
[In reality, he’s a man.]
I constructed the argument in my head and waited for him to walk through the door. My proverbial guns were loaded for the minute he said something SLIGHTLY sideways, so I could fire away. I. WAS. READY.
We all know how that ended.
Even though it’s “not about the bag”, he’s thinking of how to buy the bag that I now told him I “don’t even want” although I really want it but I just don’t want to buy it myself because I want him to buy it even though I just told him I’ll buy it myself because I’m a strong, independent Black woman who don’t need no man.
…and now both of us are frustrated, annoyed, not speaking…and hungry.
[I’m so hungry. Someone please tell my boyfriend to feed me.]
Also, my therapist doesn’t answer the phone after 9.
OKAY, SO MAYBE I OVERDID IT.
3. Are you really mad at the person in front of you? No. No, I’m not.
In all honesty, my boyfriend never tells me “no” and constantly goes out of his way to make me happy in every way possible.
Am I emotional because I feel disregarded and it’s an extremely familiar feeling to me? Absolutely. It was about the bag, but then again, it wasn’t. Yes, he had forgotten the BAG, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he had forgotten ME. That’s what hurt.
If I had to start with a single word to describe my childhood: “overlooked”. I was the kid who got straight A’s so often, I stopped getting rewarded. Good behavior and accomplishments were expected and I “wasn’t getting applauded for what I was supposed to be doing anyways”. I feel like I’ve been secretly celebrating my accomplishments for years now. I’m also hard-pressed to celebrate others, no matter how small the accomplishment.
As an adult, I’ve comfortably settled into my role as “the strong friend”, because that’s all I’ve known. I imagine that followed me straight out of childhood, as well.
Then…every once in a while “Little Ashley” makes a guest appearance in my daily routine, always pining for the things she’s lacking. Attention. Acknowledgment. Praise. Love. If you’ve ever wondered where my affinity for children came from, just know I am constantly catering to the child inside of me who never got seen.
Therapy has been a great help in teaching me how to soothe “Little Ashley” and “Big Ashley” simultaneously. I’m sure it would be an even greater help if I actually went.
Especially on nights like tonight.
“Little Ashley” came out in droves today, screaming and flailing her arms.
She had “did a thing” and no one had patted her on the back the way she asked them to. No one had remembered to say “Good job” in her love language. Everyone was just going on about their lives, nonchalantly, as they always had. I now realize it was “Little Ashley” who was in the kitchen crying over her keyboard tonight.
In short, today wasn’t about the bag.
It was about not knowing how to navigate through wanting to be celebrated, and not knowing how to ask for it. It was about my inability to maneuver through letting myself be vulnerable and direct, yet still assuming someone will “just know” how to love/appease me in the ways that I need them to. [Again, he’s a man].
“Big Ashley” has to realize that just because the love doesn’t always look the way she expects it to doesn’t make it invalid. Today was about ridiculous expectations, misdirected anger, and misplaced hurt.
My boyfriend is somewhere ordering the wrong bag and misspelling my name because I’ve made him feel like he doesn’t consider me enough. Let me call him and tell him what today was really about.
And let me schedule my therapy appointment for this week. And actually go.
And also, eat. You’re not yourself when you’re hungry.
*Pulls Up Amazon In Browser, Orders Bag*
“I hope you find someone who speaks your language so you don’t have to spend a lifetime translating your spirit...”.