PENCIL’S CORNER: Then Stop Ruminating

So I noticed that when people get me upset, the first thing I do is to squeeze my face and bury myself in my writing. Whether it is my husband, family members, working staff, people on the street or even my dogs.

When I get mad, I tend to run a slight fever, get extremely tired for the moment and pant like a giraffe running out of breath.

For three decades I have followed this pattern of coping (Panting and Writing). A few days ago, when I was involved in one of the melodious back and forth of marriage quarrels, I found myself panting again.

Funny enough, what we were quarreling about didn’t warrant all that drama from me.

I was just programmed to respond in fury, because I have done it this way for so long, losing my breath- yelling or becoming extremely quiet; silent treatment; sleeping on the couch; reading till the book reads me; writing till the ink dries out.

I would do anything but make peace. Who does he think he is? I refuse to break till he does. So I go frowning- my face and giving myself a headache.

Mmmmmmm, this day, my heart just couldn’t bear the panting anymore. I mean my heart was racing like it was about to kick itself out of my chest.

I looked towards the bed where my husband was and he was SOUND ASLEEP. Are you kidding me? Aren’t you supposed to be angry? Aren’t we fighting? Shouldn’t we both have an attitude?

You see, my husband had mastered the art of having peace of mind. He told himself that he was not fighting with me therefore there was nothing to settle.

Though my husband may inflict the commotion, but it’s funny how he exempts himself from the ripple effect

My guy decided not to lose sleep over this infinitesimal problem. That’s what it really was. A problem that can eventually be solved is not even a problem at all.

But Omenesa is used to carrying the world on her head, so everything is a big problem. Issues will rise, but how you respond matters.

I have always responded wrongly, and it was no longer affecting my Beau, it was now affecting me. He had decided to have peace, and peace didn’t mean he would apologise.

The guy too has his own gra-gra but I can’t control how he chooses to fix a situation. Peace means how you choose to guard your heart at that particular time.

I guarded my heart by yelling, hissing, and then reclosing, with a fever, migraine, victim mentality, and a racing heart.

This day I admired his ability to sleep in the midst of an uproar. I truly coveted it.

Yes, it could be a sign of nonchalance, but it is an admirable trait. I refuse to dissect it’s motive. Now if he does that for more than 24 hours that will become emotional abuse.

But that’s not the topic here. I am referring to an uproar quarrel and my past inability to cub the flame.

Who said it is uproar? It was nothing but it had to be on my terms and my terms said UPROAR, so I expected him to act accordingly. My Mr. decided to sleep soundly and ignore my theatrics.

This didn’t mean that I was the one who started the fight. It was him actually. But I responded in a way that left me embarrassed. That day, I decided to search for peace.

I got extremely tired of stopping my heart from beating so fast. I was irritated at my own self for being so easily catapulted into a frenzy. I nipped it in the bud that day.

I decided to stop the rehearsing. Rehearsing all the reasons why I should be upset. I stopped the ruminating. Reminiscing and keeping account of the same numerous offenses and wondering when they will stop.

I realised that I needed to stop. I am in control, and I should be in control of my emotions.

Nobody. Absolutely nobody, has the right to make my heart beat that fast. Nobody has the right to steal my joy.

It is my responsibility to maintain peace in my heart and in my home. So if apologising and trying to talk about it sooner or later will bring about peace, then I’m in.

That night, I learned to still sleep on the same bed with my lover whom I was upset at. I learned that whatever we were quarreling about was only an incident, and not the end of the world.

I took into consideration that there is no back door, I might as well humble myself. This didn’t mean I was placating or being subservient. It just meant that I will not allow demons take charge of my home.

If I the supposed Angel cannot watch over my home, then I must be a demon myself; plotting and manipulating quarrels and discord here and there.

It didn’t matter who started the fight. I stopped that nonsense that day. I apologised when I had to.

I kept quiet out of respect. I even allow 24 hours to go by these days without talking, but it is not from a place of spite, but being STILL and respectful enough to not say the wrong thing.

Even in my silence, I still cook, make love, clean the house, and pray for him. It is only an incident. It is not the end of the world. This is also how I have chosen to manage my relationships.

The incident doesn’t change the fact that he is the father of my unborn children. It doesn’t change the fact that he loves me and I love him too.

It doesn’t change the fact that I will choose him again. We are best friends. He completes me.

It doesn’t change the honor we have for each other .It doesn’t change the years we have invested in our God given relationship.

I too have annoyed him in numerous ways. So show mercy! So why lose peace over a minute misunderstanding? I put an end to it.

I smile more these days and tickle him in the midst of a quarrel. He laughs and says “BABY STOP IT”, of course he is saying it hysterically laughing, and then we talk about it in peace, instead of in strife. My dear, you are in control. Are you a demon or a saint?