I’m stressed.
There, I said it. Honestly, I’m not even sure why I’m stressed. I guess it could be the fact that my hours at work are flip-flopping each week. Or the fact that I feel like I have little time to relax. Or the fact that I procrastinate, letting all of my school assignments pile up until the day before they’re due. (I still hold firm that I work best under pressure.) Or the fact that I made a C on my first English paper. (Okay, maybe I don’t work best under pressure.)
Both nights of Tuesday and Wednesday were my breaking point(s). I arrived home after work (I’m on the 3pm-11pm shift this week), and Husband was busy doing homework. He’s a procrastinator, too, I know this. It irked me, though, that he wasn’t waiting for me when I got home. I just felt a little bummed out because I really haven’t seen much of him all week, and I wanted to spend some time with him, cuddled on the couch while watching Gilmore Girls. I’ve almost felt like roommates rather than Husband and wife.
Needless to say, I was mad at him for mostly stupid reasons … but with both of us stressed out of our minds (a recent death on his side of the family plus school and work), we tend to take it out on each other. Last night, we sat up until nearly 5am, talking. It was mostly back and forth, but in the end, I think it made us both feel slightly better to vent.
For the most part, I don’t discuss negative moments in our relationship, but sometimes, I think it’s necessary. We all have those moments. It doesn’t make us love each other any less; what proves that is the fact that we stick through it, and after it’s all said in done, we cuddle in bed together for the night, holding each other’s hand.
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