Saturday, June 12, 2010
Today Danielle said the nicest thing. "You're changing," She kind of exclaimed as she kissed my prickly face. She's cute like that. And now I'm feeling like a superhero! If my wife, who has a closer-than-comfortable view of my inner world, thinks I'm improving then maybe I can believe too.
She surprised me when she said it. We were sitting on the couch dissecting the reason for my general perkiness. I felt unusually happy all day Friday and I didn't know why. Was it the weather? No, it had already been nice. Our love life? I thought so, but Danielle had her doubts.
I was baffled by my good attitude because I'd had an emotional Thursday night. The evening had consisted of a lonely drive, an overdue apology to an estranged friend, and an NBA-Finals-Game-turned-mini-intervention with people who love me. I collapsed into bed sometime after midnight feeling vulnerable.
Stuff like that usually eats at me for days. I replay each sequence. Did I share too much? Should I have used a different word about that one thing? Was I too feisty? Should I have talked less? Do I really need to cut my hair? Often I've been unable to process my obsessive thoughts and consequently slide into condemnation.
"What do you mean I've changed?" I asked, initially skeptical of Danielle's unwavering optimism.
"I think you're learning to process," she said. "And you're letting stuff roll off better than before." She spoke like she had already analyzed it and was certain that it was a fact.
"Really?" I asked, incredulous. "Are you sure?"
"Yep," she turned and pointed, "can you massage my back now, it hurts."