I can be a mean girl. The ability to be mean was nurtured early on in my life while watching my mother and father hate each other. She was mean to him, he was mean to her. Happiness was lost. As I reached the height of my teen years, the mean girl took over. High school was an easy place to get lost in, judgement is a way of life as one walks those halls. The mean girl reigned. After high school my meanness transferred. I no longer thought myself better than others and my focus had gone from being popular to falling in love, something that first happened for me at 18. I was a freshman at OU as was he. It was bliss at first. We explored our lives together. We had ups and downs yet always found time to tell each other I love you. We were in love. Madly. About two years in, the mean girl came back. I wasn't doing well in school and I began to take out my frustrations on him. I said awful things that I knew would hurt him. I made our relationship bad. I sabotaged the love we once had because of my anger. We eventually broke up and later on in my life I would realize that I royally fucked it up. My self esteem issues, my anger, and my relationship issues were just too much to let go of at the time.
Fast forward 5 years and the Chef and I are living together. I am happy. We are happy. We are in our twenties and live in NYC. The world is ours! The mean girl only comes out with whiskey. For the most part she is long gone.
So I think...
Fast forward another 5 years and the Chef and I are celebrating our 4 year wedding anniversary. We each realize that the past 4 years of our lives have been difficult. The mean girl came out more times then I would like to admit. But I will, here, in front of you.
Occasionally I am mean to the Chef. I don't want to be mean. I love him more than I ever thought was possible. He is a good man. He is my good man.
But sometimes that 18 year girl pops out, opens her mouth, and mean things are said. Sometimes that mean girl breaks the lock of the closet and spews her anger, her lack of self esteem, and her stress. She is overwhelmed by her life and she takes it out on him. It's not fair to either of them. Although she disappears quickly, the remorse that follows is like a tidal wave.
I know when I am being an asshole. I know when he doesn't deserve my wrath. I know that within seconds of saying something mean I am sorry and shamed. He knows that I am sorry. He knows that I don't mean it. He knows I'm not perfect, and that sometimes I am going to be mean, and yet he still loves me. Everyday more than the next...