What my Spanish degree taught me about being - part 2
This probably happened in the summer of 2021. So not peak covid but not NOT covid. Everett was a year and a half old and we’d all been together all day every day for his entire life minus the 6 weeks Jeremy and I went back to work before the world shut down. We’d taken our car to go on an outing somewhere to feel like humans and we were driving home. I was driving because I’m a horrible backseat driver when Jeremy drives in the city (to be clear this is 100% a me thing, Jeremy drives perfectly well in the city) and because we were riding that fine fine line cutting it close to nap time where if Everett fell asleep in the car we’d lose the whole nap and he was crying because he was tired and my brain and body were on fire because he was crying and his nap was on the line.
I was capital S stressed. And something that happens when I get stressed is that Jeremy gets stressed. He wants to make me feel better and does whatever he can to try to help. But when I’m stressed I go into super drive and I want to just handle things, I don’t want to talk, I don’t want to hear your opinion, I want you to read my mind, know what I’m thinking about and do exactly what I’m thinking we should do without me having to give directions or admit I need help or support.
Is that too much to ask for?
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Alter Your Life to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.