It’s been an odd week and a half to say the least.
On Sunday night this past week a simple discussion about gun control with my husband (yes, I see the humor in saying that) turned into me almost having to sleep on a different level of our house than him.
Of course, this topic of gun control not only circulates around the Orlando tragedy but all of the Right Wing vs. Left Wing memes and arguments for and against gun control on social media. For the most part, my husband and I are centrists with right and left swaying tendencies. Gun control is one of the things I sway left on and him right. I believe both of us have valid point for each side. In fact, this wasn’t even what our argument was about.
The thing is, in words I can make an eloquent and well-thought argument. In speaking, especially to my husband who is very… Pointed about being right whenever possible, I am not so good at saying what I mean to say. This makes both of us frustrated because I feel he puts words in my mouth and he feels that I change my mind too often.
This mutual frustration had him saying, “I am going to sleep in the recliner downstairs so I don’t get upset with you.”
This was the tipping point for me. I have no problem disagreeing on a political matter. I do have a problem with not sleeping in the same bed as my husband. It’s a bad habit. It feels like the kiss of death to me. I won’t do it.
I told him so. He left our room anyway, and I found myself more upset than I intended to be when we went upstairs together an hour previously.
A bit later he came back upstairs. I was relieved, but we weren’t done talking. At that point the conversation shifted from bearing arms to baring hearts. We discussed how each of us has been feeling in our relationship, and how living together changes the way we operate. We discussed the stresses in our individual lives and how that has brought stress into our home. We talked about how we were going to remedy the stresses, and how each of us would make more of an effort to understand each other’s feelings. We ended the night cuddled in bed and started the week out right.
It felt good to clear the air, and I have to thank the mess that is American politics for the spark that helped us get to where we ended up.
The other thing that happened to me this week was my physical that cleared me for work and the woman who administered it. This woman made me miss my doctor back home. In the first few seconds of even walking into the exam room she commented on how young I was, and made me feel even more uncomfortable when she said with complete shock, “You’re MARRIED?”
Uhm. Thanks for the judgmental tone, yes I am married.
She continued to say more rude things about being married young, my tattoos, and how lowly it is of me to be working at the Child Development Center. She made me feel useless and stupid.
I wanted to tell her that I have a Bachelor’s degree and graduated with honors. I wanted to tell her that even though I am young, I love my husband and didn’t decide to marry him on a whim. I wanted to tell her that if I had wanted her opinion on my tattoo I would have called her up and asked her what she thought before the inky needle was in my skin. I wanted to tell her that I was excited to work at the Child Development Center because even though little kids can be as rude as adults, they still have a chance to learn that being rude isn’t okay.
I left the medical building irritated at how much disrespect military wives get. Just because I’m not wearing a uniform doesn’t mean I haven’t made sacrifices. It doesn’t mean I am any less patriotic. It doesn’t mean you, as a soldier, can treat me like I’m worthless because I’m a dependent.
I am a wife. I love my husband. I love my country. I will not be rude to people based on my status, whatever it is.
Until next time….