When you are married with someone for a long time you get into a pattern of life. A rhythm you follow everyday and you get so stuck to that routine that you hate anyone breaking it. You loose the flexibility nature of accepting suprises. I realised that I have compartmentalized everyone and couldnt accept if anyone moved away from what I thought they should be doing. Like my husband. I couldnt accept why he suddenly developed a habit of not hearing me when I wanted to talk or work out a problem. Why I felt like he was not there when I needed him the most, or when I thought I needed him the most.And it irritated me to no end when he threw his shoe everywhere and later made me running here and there looking for the other shoe. I wanted my son to do exactly what I wanted him to do and if he wanted to act like any normal three year boy, I will be screaming his name like a fish seller. Now, I don't know how exactly a fishwife sounds like having never been to fish market but the ones that I have been to are mostly male and they will shout at you to buy their wares if they see you are looking their way.
One day it hit me. I was working up a steam. We had gone to the town, yea the town where I still see the sad donkey. It was suppose to be an half hour outing, which was slowly turning to three hours. Our son was hyperactive, I was tired after running after him and nagging him not to do this, not to touch that, leave that alone, come here, blah..blah. My husband had grown roots and was stuck on that damn pathetic chair and laughing with his friends like as if they have never met and not moving an inch to go home. I was getting mad and was getting close to tears. I thought I am going to leave this ass, I am moving back to Thimphu, I am not cut out for this...I deserve better.I am going to take our son and leave this ass to this pathetic place and then he will realise my worth. Snif..snif..snif...poor me. Then it hit me. My feelings was becoming conditional and was not willing to accept someone as they were. My husband was always the same. He loves his friend and sometimes I feel more than me but thats alright. I had known that. And my son..I was becoming so rigid that his creative nature was getting strangled by my control and he was rebelling in his own way. And myself..I was getting worked up to heartburn by my ownself. I was pushing myself to grave early with all that negative feelings and anger. I cooled down-somewhat. Its hard to accept that maybe you yourself might be your own problem. My pride hurt the most. But I did cool down and no I didnt suddenly turn to angel of love and happiness. I was still gloomy with a bruised ego. But I stopped controlling my son and let him run around with his friends, playing in the mud (it had rained) and eventually sat near my ass of a husband and enjoyed somewhat to the conversation that was going around. Then my husband looked at my face and must have seen my poor me face and said ok lets go home, our son might be tired. So we all went home one small happy family with my bruised ego smiling weakly.