Do Not Take Rocks From the Petrified Forest
Dan and I have been watching Dead to Me. Every night I’ve been taking Theo up to bed to read him a story and during that five-to-ten minute period Dan decides not to wait for me to watch the show, but instead goes into the basement for video gaming/weed smoking.
I come down, shout down to him I’m ready, and he comes up within five to ten minutes. Except last Thursday, maybe he was taking longer or maybe it was just me, I’m honestly not sure, but I heard the clinking of either the lighter against the bowl or the grinder against the desk and I just lost it.
I wanted so badly to be down there smoking weed with him before our show, and I wasn’t, and he wasn’t hurrying to come back upstairs to me. He wasn’t thinking, let me take a couple quick hits and head upstairs. He was letting time get away, as you do, when you get stoned.
Watching a show I’m into brings me much more pleasure than it otherwise would when I’m not smoking. It’s something to hang onto, if you will. And he was depriving me of that. While getting high.
I went downstairs in tears and asked him if he could please come upstairs to watch the show now. He said yes.
As we sat down on the couch I said, “It’s really depressing for me that I’m not down there smoking with you.” He said nothing and the show was starting and I had a feeling that continuing to talk would be a grave mistake.
I cried throughout the entire show. When it was over, I sat there, tears streaming down my face, and Dan got up and walked out of the room.
When the Fuck, Why the Fuck, and What the Fucking Fuck
I went upstairs and sobbed/ugly cried while hunched over the bed. I didn’t have another show I wanted to watch. I couldn’t concentrate on reading my book. I couldn’t smoke weed. There was nowhere to go. Maybe I could take a walk. I opened the blinds to look outside and there was a downpour.
I managed to calm down, mostly by telling myself how much worse my nose would be that night if I didn’t stop crying. I can barely breathe when trying to sleep as it is.
I started watching a rerun of Frasier on the upstairs TV. Dan came up, told me he was sorry for pissing me off, and that he hates himself. I had realized that he went back to the living room instead of staying in the basement, which meant that he was in fact upset that I was upset. We moved past it without further talking about it.
The next day as we were sitting down to watch the show (he came up from the basement much quicker this time, for some reason), I said, “Can I give you some advice?” He looked skeptical but agreed.
I suggested that next time I’m really upset about something and he doesn’t know what to say maybe he could try putting his arm around me or giving me a hug. He said, “That’s a good idea.” And confirmed I wasn’t in fact, upset right that second.
I Guess I Just Need You. It’s Gross. Sorry.
Being okay with the no smoking/drinking while pregnant thing comes in waves. In the beginning, it’s hard. It’s new.
Then some time passes and you think, I got this. You get cocky. Bring it on. Smoke blunts in front of me. Have a keg party in my living room. I’m fucking zen, I don’t care.
But then some more time passes and you think, wow, this really isn’t over yet. And I’ve got aways to go.
I’m waiting for that next, positive feeling wave to come along.