just a cigar.”
So said Ernest Hemingway in response (or defense maybe) of “all” the symbolism in his writing. Sometimes there wasn’t any symbolism at all. Sometimes…
But what about when the cigar is not “just” a cigar?
Or the empty kitchen kitchen trashcan liner-box is not JUST an empty kitchen trashcan liner box?
The last two days have been horrible, as evident by my “rapid” succession of posts. (Misery does make for prolific writing.) But like any volcanic eruption – the firey, molten lava kind or the emotional kind – after the violence comes a strange calm. The release of energy – again be it of the raging hot-rock variety or the emotional varity – is cathartic. Maybe not for the villagers at the base of the volcano or the children who live with the “volcano” but certainly for the volcano/”volcano.” And so now that I am purged of that intense build-up of angry energy and resentment, I can seem to go back to relatively “normal” living.
So I decided to clean out the pantry.
And in that pantry I found…
The empty kitchen trashcan-liner box.
Seems innocuous enough, right?
Except that box represents everything I have been screaming about for the past two days.
No one does ANYTHING around here…including throwing out an empty box.
(I do realize that my husband actually PUT a trashcan liner in the kitchen can, hence the empty box I have to deal with but I think we all know that’s not the norm…)
Now of course I would sound like a lunatic and a bitch should I start screaming about that empty box. And because I had an emotional eruption over the past two days, I don’t even feel the need to scream.
But you know what that box is?
It’s the beginning of my next eruption.
It’s the dormant magna that will one day become the explosive lava, ash and rock of my emotional volcano.
I know this is unhealthy for me and my children.
I know I should find a way to never let the volcano build up in the first place.
I know that my tactic of simply sucking it up for months until I lose it over “just a cigar” is hardly a joyful way of living.
I just don’t know how to do things any differently.
QuietRagingWaters 
I totally get this. I go along for so long and then I erupt like a total lunatic. It’s like the “empty box” just was the very last straw. I can see why someone maycome home- find a sink full of dirty dishes and say ” that’s it- I’m out” and just like that a 30 year relationship is done. It’s not the empty box or sink full of dishes. It’s the culmination of years of no help, no teamwork and blatant disrespect. I have been trying hard to not take things personally and work on not feeling resentful. I don’t want to be that miserable old nagging wife and mother. But I am dumbfounded by the fact that one person carries the load of all that needs to be done. The rest just reap the benefits. My alcoholic husband used to do things around the house. He used to cook. We used to do things together here and there. Now he just drinks, watches tv, smokes cigars, sleeps, makes messes and drinks some more. He says he’s “tired”. Well Mama’s tired too.
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Mine was a good handyman in his day and made some furniture as a hobby. I’m a practical sort too so we did spend some good times doing house and garden stuff. He gradually did less and less (partly through deteriorating health but mainly a deteriorating attitude to doing anything except drinking and reading the paper) and I did more and more, on top of supporting him. He recently threw something along the lines of “all the things he’s done for me, and all it cost me was a few meals”.
I was stunned. Glad I’ve left.
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Wow. I could see mine saying the same. Maddening. They’re delusional.
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