THERE'S ALWAYS TOMORROW

     I felt safe in my assumption that things between Taka and me are doing better. Maybe because of his advancing age and less Testosterone coursing through his veins (my mother always did say that he'll become milder with age). Maybe, because of people praying for us; maybe - because of all the ancestors' interference - we began to have less fights and understand each other better. Of course, I also learned to shut up and keep my opinions to myself to avoid  annoying him or simply started to behave like he was a tenant of whom I took care. It's been two years since that change took place. I settled in the belief that this is what I have to do to keep peace and, perhaps, get things to be a little better. I felt better!

It says in Russian: "No blabbing!"

     Last week's Al Anon meeting proved me wrong. I read from one of the books there. My page was about the way relatives of an alcoholic begin to feel, when he/she stop drinking. They are happy, of course, but then they notice that 1. Their relative changed his character and routine, and it's harder to anticipate what he/she will do. 2. Before the change it was easy to blame all the problems on drinking, but now it becomes apparent that even though the drinking stopped, most problems are still there.

I

I

     I read that page and was called upon to explain how this relates to my life. I talked eloquently and clearly (at least I want to believe that). I felt my lips move but didn't believe a thing that I said. It was about the change in Taka and myself, but I was ju-u-ust  missing some major point, because even to my ears my words sounded hallow. Besides that, I began to experience this painful feeling in my chest, the anxiety, the panic eating me from inside. I couldn't identify the reason for it. Outwardly I was happy and carefree. Inside I became more and more confused and depressed, because I realized that despite assuring everyone in how much better the relationship with Taka became, something must be wrong for me to feel this new fear.
     Today Mr. P. opened that same book and found the page that I read. I read it again. And again. An idea began to crystallize in my mind of why I got anxious. I said it even before I finished to fully form it. "I realized that I have to leave that place that I considered emotionally safe these two years. Just staying out of each other's way and being codependent does not create a true family relationship." 
     Mr. P. strengthened that realization by advising me on how to start creating that relationship. He looked truly excited. He ran to his saddlebags (he rides his bike everywhere with 30 lbs saddlebags of books and materials on it). He brought back a stack of cards. They were a game that he likes to play called, the Un-game. On each card there was a simple or - not a very simple - question. What the players do is, each take turn in answering those questions. That makes for a nice way to find out about each other and have an easy give-and-take together. My assignment was to get Taka to have a cup of coffee with me and play the Un-game. Mr. P. trusted me with seven of his precious cards (he counted them out and made me swear that I will bring them back to him). 
     As I came home, I was ready to try . I went straight to the bedroom/office where Taka works with his favorite wives, the computers. "Hey, do you want to go get a cup of coffee somewhere?" - I asked airily. "Why?" - he asked showing me a mug on the table - "I already have a cup of coffee!"
     "It's alright!" - I kept telling myself while retreating to the kitchen, and then cited to myself Mr. P.'s quote: "Expectation breeds frustration." "Do not expect him to change, do not try to change him." I was a little disappointed, but - there's always tomorrow!