Donna reminded me the other day that, while I spend a good deal of time bitching about my current problems, I rarely talk about what she feels is a more likely candidate as the root of my problems... my parents. I've mentioned my mother from time-to-time before. Her neglect, her awkward boundary issues and even how she got knocked-up back in the summer of love. So this time, let's give my dad a turn.

My father is what some would call a compulsive groom. A serial marrier. He just can't manage to stay single no matter how hard he tries. He falls into marriages, despite his obvious lack of matrimonial ability, with surprising ease. My brothers and I have run out of ways to address all of our mothers.

First, of course, is Mom. Our biological mother. That one is pretty obvious.

Donna has had a pretty rough week, in a grumpier-that-the-people-around-her-care-to-talk-about kind of way. For some reason or another she seems to have been not quite herself. She's been barking at the kids and refusing any kind of attempts to help her cheer up.

Then today, after Twitter dumped a whole bunch of messages from her tweets, I got this desperate text message...

...read the rest...

Last week, after I got back from New York, I was flooded with a rush of emotions. Some of which had everything to do with my trip and my personal regret about not having followed my dream to be the cliche struggling actor, scraping by in the city. Others had been festering for a while and just came along for the ride once the gates were opened. Still others were nothing new and are the same old things that always get thrown into the mix.

It's no secret that Donna and have more than our share of painful history together. It's also not news to any regular reader of this site that, while each of us has done a lot of work and come a long, long way, it's very likely that there will never be a time when we are free from the burden and hurt of those common experiences. There are some issues that no amount of therapy will help us overcome.

The long and the short of it is that while Donna is a terrific person for whom I have a great deal of love I most often feel like we each spend a lot of time disappointing each other. And while that's certainly not unique to our marriage, the combination of those incompatibilities and our rocky history might make it hard for either of us to get close enough to each other for either of us to ever be as happy as we might be apart. Does that make sense?

It's been a primary frustration of mine for quite some time that Donna seems to be, sometimes deliberately, unaware of key moments and opportunities for intimacy and closeness. I'm not talking about sex here either. Well, not specifically.

What I mean is all the moments that pass us by where we could have taken advantage of time together alone. Birthdays forgotten. Vacations spent sober and celibate in expensive hotel rooms in swanky east coast cities. Friday nights spent arguing about why neither of us plans for a sitter instead of shopping for underwear.

Yesterday was an understandably anxious day for me. I was stepping back on stage in front of a live audience for the first time in quite some time. For most people, performing for a large group of people is simply impossible. They simply could not do it in just the same way that I could never stand upright and casually watch an appendectomy. And while I have come to accept and even enjoy that uneasiness on stage in the same way many people enjoy riding roller coasters, it still very much takes a great deal of concentration and effort to keep from being overwhelmed by the experience.

Donna and I have a very bipolar relationship. Duh. We swing from manic to depressive states, sometimes very suddenly, in a shockingly regular cycle.

Obviously, the past few days we were in the valley of the wave. For a few brief moments yesterday, perhaps buoyed by the excitement of watching number 756, we each let down our guard. Not much, but enough to thaw the ice just enough that we were able to have a brief but civil exchange about this most recent obstacle.

"I just need you to know that no matter what else has happened, I have the right to participate fully in raising our children. I need you to understand that the way things were handled hurt me. I would accept an apology if you had a sincere one to offer."

There's no doubt in my mind that the anxiety Donna feels about me is justified. I've given her plenty of reasons to mistrust me and put her guard up. Having her mistrust and anger aimed squarely at my nuts has certainly done enough to build a few barriers on my side of the equation too.

That's all well and good when it comes to blame-placing and finger-pointing but doesn't do us much good in the world of everyday, you know, actually getting along and trusting each other. Sometimes all the years of jabbing with one hand and blocking with the other make it just plain hard for us to even muster a civil amount of decorum, let alone intimacy. It's a strange dynamic given the fact that we are both widely regarded as personable, easy-going, charismatic people.

So what's the solution? How do we both take the gloves off and stop playing defense with our fragile, damaged emotions? Playing nice gets us by on any given day, but it's just that... playing. The best coping we've come up with so far is just to ignore the hurt for a few days or weeks at a time while we grit our teeth and smile. But that only works for a little while. Eventually, it stacks up and one of us does something to let the other know that we're hurting. Something, anything at all to say, "hey, this still isn't resolved and no amount of pretending will make me as happy as I want to be."

I hope most of you deduced that Friday was our wedding anniversary.

A week or so ago, I asked Donna if she wanted me to try to score some free tickets to a show at the theater where I used to perform. The same theater I'll be performing in again very soon. Little did you know that I'm a former C-list local celebrity. On the charts I fell somewhere between drive-time traffic reporter and back-of-the-phone-book attorney. I'm a powerful and important man. People know me.

"Sure. Get four and we'll double-date with the Bradfords."

I am not beautiful enough to do anything I want.
She is.
The more I beg, the less I get.

...read the rest...

As much as Donna is able to hold a grudge, she knows exactly how to show me when she's over it.

Last night, she came to bed in her Kasey Kahne t-shirt and Hanes Her Ways. I knew she meant serious business. Without hesitation, we got right down to it. She actually even kissed me while we made love, so I know she meant it.

Then today, right as I got back to my desk from lunch, I heard the theme song from The Office from my back pocket. It was Donna calling.

"I was talking with a couple of my friends the other day about you making beer."

"Oh yeah?"

"They asked if you 'get drunk and stuff'. I couldn't help but laugh. You hardly drink at all and when you do, it's not even a big deal. Just one or two beers now and then."