Cards on the table

He and I have always been open with one another, sharing our fears, worries, frustrations and delights. So many phone calls were one of us venting and the other offering perspective. The shoulder to cry on, the ear to bend, we’ve been there for each other.

I know I’m playing close to the vest here. I think, to some degree,  in some weird way, I’m trying to protect him. Because I don’t want to bother or burden him. (Isn’t this a familiar refrain?)

I know it’s my fatal flaw. The tendency to pull into my shell when I get too overwhelmed. When I worry that I’m over emotional or overbearing. When I think that I might make his life difficult, or complicated. When I retreat into my corner instead of asking him to just hold me while I cry.

I know it should be full disclosure. I know I should tell him all about everything I’m feeling. I try, it’s just hard to break old habits.

One thought on “Cards on the table

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