"It's not you, it's me"

Remember in high school when you wanted to break up with someone but still look classy doing it?  What were those five words you used?  That’s right, “It’s not you, it’s me.”  Five simple words and you came out of a relationship free, and hopefully still on good terms to some extent.  The thing behind this simple, easy excuse is that no one wants to talk about it what it really means.  Because guess what? When someone says, “It’s not you, it’s me,” it might really be you.  The “you” that the other person is just too nice to pinpoint as the problem in a relationship.  And the thing about “It’s not you, it’s me” is that it’s actually a pretty effective argument.  I mean, who can argue with that?

Being married and graduated from high school, college, and many immature relationships, I like to think that I have put the “It’s not you, it’s me” excuse (and all the subtle things it implies) behind me.  Then, this afternoon, I was reminded of how prevalent it still is...only this time with a completely different meaning.

Sometimes, I get mad at my husband.  Like this afternoon for example.  We were at the beginning of a long to-do list and I suddenly became overwhelmed and dramatically declared that there was no way we could get everything done.  Andrew, probably in an attempt to help calm me down replied something along the lines of, “No, it will be fine, we’ll have plenty of time.”

Unfortunately, his comment had the opposite effect.  Immediately, this itchy angry feeling boiled up inside me and I thought, “He obviously doesn’t understand!  How can he not understand? Why is he trying to frustrate me like this?  He obviously knows nothing about all we have to do!”  And with these thoughts, I snapped.

Oh, my poor husband.  In moments like these both my thinking and my actions become completely illogical, and it is only when I step back that I can realize I’m not really mad at my husband.  He has done nothing at all to deserve my little outburst.  He was just trying to help.  In this case, it really isn’t him, it’s me.

What I’m mad about is the dirty laundry.  I’m mad that my hair doesn’t look good today and that I have a big pimple on forehead that won’t go away.  I’m mad that I slept in instead of going running this morning and yet I’m still tired and just want to take a nap.  I’m mad that the sister missionaries are coming to dinner in 2 hours and I still don’t know what to make.  I’m mad about all the little, probably insignificant things that tend to make me feel like my life is falling apart.  And because Andrew is the only one around, he becomes the unfortunate victim when one little comment (even one offered with good intentions) sends me over the edge.

Can anyone relate?

So in an attempt to grow up and take responsibility for my emotions I say to Andrew and everyone else who has ever been on the receiving end of one of these emotional outbursts, “It’s not you, it’s me.”  And I really mean it this time.