He just needs a little room to breathe.

Mark called me from Salt Lake City yesterday afternoon to let me know that he had gotten caught in an avalanche.

I'm still in shock.  I just cannot believe he would betray me like that.

Yes, betray.   "Don't get caught in an avalanche!" is one of those basic rules of conduct that every good marriage is built on.  

One of those things that countless couples, to their eventual bitterness,  leave unsaid.  

I thought we were immune to such things.  We've never been the type to leave things open to chance, to the possibility of misunderstandings about the important things.  I know enough not to sweat the small stuff.  But... you see... "Don't get caught in an avalanche" has been out there, on the table, since the very beginning of our marriage.  

He has always known how I feel about that one thing.  I've always made a point of making it really, really clear.

I guess I've been taking it for granted.  Maybe I say it so often, it's become... just one of those things you say, you know? Like, thanks for making dinner, or don't forget to take out the recycling.  Mundane.  Every day, or at least every ski trip, it's the same thing.  Have a great time, dear.  Don't get caught in an avalanche.  

It's only natural.  Before long the words lose their meaning.

I suppose I shouldn't be angry.  Really... I should view it as a cry for help.  

Perhaps, although I always struggle with being more flexible, always afraid of taking steps in a new direction... perhaps it's time for us to open dialogue.  Maybe I've been too constraining.  Maybe he needs a little more freedom.  

Maybe it's time I step back, and rephrase it to, "As an alternative to NOT GETTING CAUGHT IN AN AVALANCHE, know that I trust you enough to allow you the freedom of hunkering against a wall while hundreds of pounds of ice thunder down past your head and vital organs.  I understand, too, that you are a man with needs, honest, human needs. Including perhaps the need to deploy a personal pressurized-canister airbag snow flotation system."

Of course, a crucial component of any serious work on a marriage with this kind of problem is and always will be communication.

So I am reminding myself that I should be sure to validate his impulses in that direction, particularly impulses to, say, purchase a set of advanced digital search-and-rescue beacons, and maybe to read the instructions before the next ski-and-ice-climbing trip.    

After all, it's the little ways of getting through to each other that often mean the most.  Sometimes, a man says "I love you" by taking out the trash or stopping to pick up a bottle of wine on his way home from work.  Other times, he says it in a series of beeps with variable frequency and volume that give an indication of distance, direction, and depth of burial.

No matter what, it's important for both of us to learn from the mistakes of the past, and move forward.  

Preferably at less than 80 mph, and not straight toward any really big rocks.

Comments

[4ddintx]

Gosh! I'm so glad he's ok!

[bearing]

You and me both.

I was feeling fairly lighthearted when I wrote that, but now that I've gotten off the phone with him a day later, having had enough time to hear a more detailed account of what happened, I'm rather shaken.

[mrsdarwin]

Terrifying! Thank God he's all right. I hope you're feeling better as well.