I DO love you & I need superglue

I have a morbid sense of reality, therefore I have a morbid sense of humor. My husband, however, does not.

We have this ongoing misunderstanding with each other about what is ‘reality’. He understands that I see things differently and we have long discussions sometimes trying to figure out why I think the way I do or why he doesn’t have the same thought process that I have. He’s a glass half full kinda person and I have a broken glass.

Basically, he’s sane and I’m not. I’m just a little Mad Hatter-ish.

Many times I have made comments to my husband that are what he considers morbid, inappropriate and hurtful. I never meant my comments to be hurtful to him.

Examples are as follows:

if i live longer than you, this bedroom is going to be painted pink.

if you die before me, my living room will be Country Chic

there won’t be another man after you, at least not one I am married to or live with

it’s going to be fun growing old with you. Your Alzheimer’s is going to kill us both. I can just see it. One day, we will be driving along and you decide to take the bridge across the river that has been gone for 29 years. We will be driving off the side of the bluffs into the Mississippi River. You’ll be pissed off because I’ll be laughing that you forgot where you were going. Again.

if you become a grumpy old bastard like so-n-so when you’re 85, don’t be surprised if there’s ground glass in your Cheerios.

The last comment provoked the following hurt from my husband.
“Why do you always talk about me dying? ”

My offhanded morbid remark, “oh honey, I love you! I don’t want you to die. If I did, you’d be gone already”

Which wasn’t the right thing to say. Either. Again.

Thinking about it this morning makes me sad to think my thoughts, verbiage have hurt him. I never meant to do that. I think there is a major flaw in my thinking and in MY perception of how others perceive me. In a weird, fucked up, sort of way, I sometimes think this is my way of not getting too close, putting up my wall so that if one day he wasn’t here anymore, I’d be prepared. This is not fair to him. This man has stood beside me through everything, never judging and always hugging.

I need some superglue to fix my broken glass.

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Categorized as life

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