Mean Wife

On October 19th he me asked what day it was. “It’s October 19th”.

Actually on October 19th he asked, “Why are you so mean to me?”

As much as I wanted to blurt out “I am not mean”. This time there was no cheesy self-defense mechanism excuse that could save me. So instead, I said what any mature adult would say. 

“I am not mean to you!” and walked away.

Rico and I have had our exchange of words, but this one? This one hurt. It hurt because I had been identified as someone I never wanted to be. A mean wife. And it hurt because for the first time I saw Rico as a person. I hadn’t realize that I had put him into this box of solely being my husband when in fact he is so much more than this one role. He is Rico. And every attack against his shortcomings of being a husband didn’t stop at this role, but pierced through to who he was as a man, a person.

I didn’t know how to say “You let me down” or “I expected more from you” without attacking him with wounding words regarding his character or building this wall around me to shun him out. And even in the times I thought I explicitly said those words, the objective became for him to hurt as much as me.

The irony of it all is that I would never treat a stranger like this. On my worst day I still manage to show compassion to those who wrong me. It seems to be the ones closet to us we become negligent of their humanism because we only want them to function in their role in our life. As if the expectation of who we want them to be should outweigh how we treat them. The revelation of how marriage is quite similar to sanctification becomes more apparent in my life. The role of a husband/wife is accepted by faith that we develop into every day. Because in the end, who really knows how to be married?

Sitting in my conviction of what I have done, I remember hearing “It’s not that you’re mean. You are not gentle”. I immediately became defensive against the spirit (much similar to my defensive nature against Rico) because I didn’t want to become passive or change who I was to appease him, let alone anyone.

To be gentle is to be mindful. To be mindful that my words, my actions have an expected end.

And at the other end of me was Rico.

Since then I’ve had to become intentional about displaying gentleness, which is a weird flex because in my mind I thought I’d mastered this. You know, being kind to people. Selflessly loving. Building up people. Respect! Yet, this is another thing that I am having to kiss goodbye. This whole mean wife syndrome.

In the end no matter how justified I may feel, a soft and gentle and thoughtful answer turns away wrath, but harsh and painful and careless words stirs up anger. [Proverbs 15:1 AMP]

I would love to hear from you and your experience(s)!

1. What does gentleness look like to you?

2. What characteristics hinder you from being gentle? 

6 thoughts on “Mean Wife

  1. 1. What does gentleness look like to you?

    The opposite of hardness….. Softness……

    2. What characteristics hinder you from being gentle?

    Fear

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    1. I love that you can identify that fear is holding you back. I can relate to that myself. I pray that today you and I both are a little more fearless, so we can be more gentle. 💋

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  2. To be gentle we must first be open for vulnerability ourselves. A lot of people hold tight on to shields/walls to protect their gentle/vulnerable characteristics.

    I became gentle once I let the fear of being unloved go. Once I learned that the love I have for myself can’t be matched or broken there was no need to keep a barrier of protection up.

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    1. Ooh! *Snap Snap Snap AND SNAP* ✨ That is so true, we do have this shield to protect our gentle traits. Mostly in fear that someone will rob or take advantage of it. I think it’s dope you learned that the love for yourself in unmatched and that there is no need for protection.

      I think we forget that we can be gentle AND move around. Thank you for sharing girl 💋

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  3. October 19, 1985 is the day my best friend, Beth Arnett, died. She was 14. She had a brain tumor and she fought it for a year. I remember how she had been gone from 8th grade for 2 months getting chemo. Her birthday was January 5 and she was having a party. I hadn’t been allowed to see her since she’d been diagnosed, so I was very excited for this party. When I showed up to her house, all the girls from school were sitting in her front room. I scanned the crowd. This awful mean girl, Jill, was there. Ugh. We hated her. I didn’t know why she was invited, but stranger than that was she was sitting with her arm around a fat girl. Wait. Who was that fat girl? We didn’t know her. She didn’t go to our school. Where was my best friend? Where was Beth? Then I saw the wheelchair and somehow I knew. The fat girl was Beth after chemo had ravaged her body. I walked up, gave her a hug and made Jill move the fuck over.
    When I think of a mean girl, I think of Jill. But now that you’ve made me think of her, I wonder why she was at that party. I never did ask why she was invited. Were they secretly friends? More than that, was why did Jill show up? My more sophisticated adult side says there is more to people than we’d like to think. Everyone is mean in someone’s eyes and everyone is the greatest person ever in another person’s eyes. However, in this situation, 13 yr old Sandi wins out because I prefer to dislike Jill. Disliking her brings me comfort in an uncomfortable memory.

    Nothing about being gentle or being a wife – but you brought up the date – so I ran with it.

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    1. Sandi! I absolutely love this. Who cares that its not about being gentle or being a wife! I love when you said “Everyone is mean in someone’s eyes and everyone is the greatest person ever in another person’s eyes.”. I couldn’t agree more. I feel when it comes to self-examinations we must be mindful of whose lenses are we examining ourselves from.

      Side bar: I miss you like crazy! When I am in Chicago next, I have to see you. Thank you for sharing.

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