A Series of Unfortunate Events: or the plague of the emotional leeches

Recently I have been experiencing major anxiety over my relationships and interactions with my female friends.  As I posted some days ago, I seem to have taken on the role of therapist among them.  This would be okay if just one or another needed advice or a shoulder to cry on at any given time, but it has begun to eat up my whole life.  As a friend of mine put it, they’ve become

emotional leeches

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Wanna fight?

The main difference between my husband and I is that I internalize every little thing while he externalizes his rage over, oftentimes, absolutely nothing.  While I will feel badly about something I’ve done (or even something I haven’t done), he is always angry about what he perceives is being done unto him.  Though I’ve always known this, he made it abundantly clear today while he shouted:

All this suffering is because

they have wished it upon me; 

I am cursed — 

It really comes down to taking responsibility for your own actions.  While I do not wish unto him (or anyone for that matter) the responsibility I feel for every little thing, I do wish he would stop complaining about everything and blaming everyone for each little inconvenience in his life.

For the millionth time, he told me he just wishes he could die.  While I am no stranger to the feeling, I am also painfully aware that I am the master of my own misery.  If I am on an upswing or I am feeling really rough, I know that only can change the way my life, my day, or even my moment is going.

We are all responsible

to create

our own

happiness — 

You know that person who complains all the time but never does anything to change his situation?  Yes, of course I love my husband and want to be there for him to hear about his day and to let him get that work drama off his chest.  However, there comes a time where the monotonous complaints are so regular that I get tired of hearing them. Continue reading