Here, look at her. Look at how amazing she is. This is definitely a brag. I’m bragging about my wife right now.

She’s everything I need, all the time. She’s my support when I need a solid rock in a shifting day. She lets me be her provider when she’s tired and frustrated and sad. She cares more about me than I do, and tries to keep me alive longer than she should. She’s patient, soft-spoken, humble, caring, and gorgeous. All the time. And what’s constantly amazing to me is how much she loves me. And I know she does, because she shows it. I can’t say the same thing for how I treat her all the time, but she is better to me than I deserve.

You can’t have her. She’s mine. But you CAN be her friend, and she’ll be yours. It’s a solid arrangement.

The post My Wife appeared first on Of Psychology and Psychosomatics.

It’s strange that I’d be satisfied sitting around anywhere, doing nothing, yet here we are. It’s comfort and control, peace and power. We are together to be whole, and now we find ourselves whole. Can I complain?

This is a good life. I’m excited to see what happens next.

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The fragile existence of any calm moment is liable to be instantly destroyed by a succession of minute annoyances, which means my wife is affected most negatively and most severely. Now that I’ve officially declared war on my anger, it seems to rear up increasingly and with malice at the tiniest details crossing my wrathful way. I must shame myself into being a better person. Don’t let me get away with anger. If my wife sees this, she should know that she has full permission to throw heavy things at my head if I ever get angry at or around her.

Don’t forget it.

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It was too my wife, and she already knows, so the experience could have been worse. Still, the relief of relaying that information was immense, and only the simple act of straightforward communication was required.

Don’t get to a therapist’s couch before you start talking. Say what you need to say.

Say what you need to say.

Say what you need to say.

Say what you need to say.

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Every time I wrote something, it always came back to something she did, or how she looked, or her smile, or her fingers and hair. I was soundly dismissed as a non-listener and bad test-taker.

Here’s the problem: All of that is very much connected for me. I wouldn’t love my wife the way I do if she was a dude, or a giant Amazonian, or a hobbit. I wouldn’t feel the way I feel every time I look at her if her hair was always neat and orderly, or her fingers were big ol’ Megan Fox-sized toe-thumbs. And of course I love her personality, and her joy, and the way she thinks and speaks and fiercely loves the people in her life. But my wife is not my wife without all of those aspects put together.

I told her once that the only way I can describe her is like a hurricane. She doesn’t like that, because she thinks hurricans are scary. They are. And so is she. But they are both also wild, and untamable. They are fast, and break on you with power and intensity. They can ruin you, or make you laugh as you run through her in the rain and the flood. She crashes above you and demands your attention. She flies over you in waves, from the ocean to the mountains. And she is peaceful, calm, tranquil, and rests with me.

Hannah, Hannah, Hurricane.

The post Why It’s So Hard to Describe My Wife appeared first on Of Psychology and Psychosomatics.

Okay, daily recap– work is awesome, and busy; I hate street parking; my wife is a jewel and I need to treat her better; debating new computer purchases, and will probably write something about it soon; am I even using these semi-colons correctly?; Memorial Day weekend is coming up, and the question of the century is Netflix & Chill or HBO and Smash?; okay, I’m seriously starting to doubt it’s acceptable to put a semi-colon right after a question mark; don’t stop, make it hot, dee-jay turn the speakers up; listening to Drake’s new album today reminded me why Chester Bennington is one of my favorite artists; if this blog becomes any more self-aware it will turn into a gigantic Austrian man and show up naked in my alley; okay time for bed.

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You are you for a very good reason
Because you are very good in general
And incredibly strong in particular

I don’t know anyone who could do what you do
As often or as determined as you do
Without ceasing to be, in part or in whole, you

Every step we’ve taken up to his moment
Each day we wake up in a strange and exhausting place
These are pieces of you

Your love for your family always
Your frustration with me nearly as much
These traits create beauty in your soul

Each moment I spend with you reminds me
Your love is undeserved, uncompromising
And nothing I have to offer is worthy

My life does not belong to me
Your key is largest in the door of my being
And as long as I can, I will keep it locked.

The post Unlocked appeared first on Of Psychology and Psychosomatics.

Anyway, expect plenty of media from my respective channels tomorrow through Monday. I’ll link to them below.

Facebook
Periscope
Instagram
Beme

And finally, my Snapchat:

Las Vegas, here we come!

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