Being a duck for anger

There is an idiom - "like water off a duck's back". I am being a duck for anger - from others. This particular time - from my husband. He is dealing with his own issues and for the first time I understood that by reacting back to his anger I am not letting him deal with it, but instead I am fueling it. I tried a different approach - second time this week I am being a duck - he gets angry, I refuse to react. I stay calm and talk, and I am not letting him to engage me in his anger. I understand that it is not personal and it is not about me - it is about him. It's tough. He is not used to it. He demands answers. He barely contains himself from throwing things around. For the first time, I don't feel the anger, or guilt, or fear, or shame. I feel sad. For him. I am simply letting him be with his anger, and I can see how it is eating him. All I can do is watch - nothing I will do will help him process it.

I have learned that help can't be shoved down somebody's throat - help can only be received by someone who comes to you, asking for it. He is not there yet, and I am for the first time refusing to play the game we have been engaging in, on and off, over the course of the past 12 years. He is angry at himself, at feeling not worthy of being happy - of doing simple things like a movie night (he interrupted my and our son's movie night tonight), like finishing your food slowly (he interrupted yesterday our son by not letting him finish his snack, by timing it for 5 minutes - and he is unbendable about his rules). It is so very sad for me to watch as I am trying to let our son understand what is going on and that daddy loves him and doesn't mean any harm, and that I am sorry he has to experience this. I also understand that to some extent I chose my husband to replicate the abuse that I have received in childhood - the same way as he chose me to be able to replicate his anger the way he has seen from his father to his mother. When we both are not in a grip of our emotional pasts - we are in a honey moon, daily. But when we deal with it, and we can't control it, it gets bad. In the past, we simply didn't look the problem in the eye. Now we do. Now we see what it really is. We get rid of it, but it's painful.

I reach deep inside of my heart for love, and I try to give it to him, because I have enough. I know I do - until I snap back into my little reactive self, and turn blind. I catch myself when I do it now, and I practice being the duck. Any insult, any word, any look, any gesture - none of them are about me. Off my back, like spring water. Practice. 

As I am writing this blog post, my husband is being quiet on the second floor. Typically he would be storming in to talk, to demand to figure things out - right now, right then. Typically, I would succumb to his demands, feeling awful and guilty. Typically, I won't be able to sleep afterwards. I don't feel remorse or guilt, and I am prepping to go to sleep. Interestingly, he is not storming in either. We both have work to do. We both work hard. It's hard being a duck when we're humans with bags of garbage. But it's rewarding. Perhaps I am growing a new layer of feathers?