Because right now, I am right. I WAS right. And it really sucks that I was. My husband just got an emotional kick in the crotch (forgive the visual, but really, can't think of any other way to describe it) and he is pretending like it doesn't hurt. At least not that much, and is keeping it all to himself. I'm giving him his space and told him I won't talk to him about it until after church on Sunday. Hopefully I can stick to that. I almost said something last night, but with much effort, refrained. I wrote about 4 pages in my journal last night. There will be more added tonight I'm sure.
Years ago, like around 5 or so, I said that if we didn't do this thing, that it would come back and bite us in the rear. He assured me that we didn't have to do that thing, and things would be fine. Over and over again. I stopped saying it. In fact, I almost forgot about it. And yet, here we are. I hurt for him. I don't hurt at all for myself. Or for my kids. What kicked my husband, only touched me a little. And doesn't even touch the kids.
I haven't said the words "I told you so" at all. Not helpful. My concern right now is helping him deal with this. Sigh. Really, being right is not always good.
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