Thursday, November 7, 2013

It's Not About the Nail

Programming Note: Please watch the following video before reading the text of this post or none of this is going to make sense.  Seriously.  You'll think I've gone loony tunes. 

Dear Husband,

It's not about the nail.  Yes, I realize that it makes precisely zero sense, but that's just the way it is.  I love you and I know that you love me too, which is why you want to act swiftly and decisively to solve my problem and yank that nail right out so I can be quickly be cured of what ails me, I will stop my complaining and we will jump immediately in the sack.


Except it's not about the nail. 

It's about how others respond to me when I walk down the street with the nail.  Can they see it too?  Do they think less of me because of it?  Are they judging me?  Perhaps they too are dealing with a nail or maybe its slightly less obnoxious cousin, the thumbtack.  If they handle it better than I do, does that mean I'm weak?  Or stupid?

It's not about the nail.

It's about the frustration that the nail causes.  It's about the insecurity I feel about having acquired the nail.  It's about how I feel like I'm the only one in the whole world who is dealing with this kind of nail.
If you go in there, hammer blazing, and take that thing out in a hot minute, I will be left feeling stupid or foolish for not having the strength or the courage to do it myself.  Or what if ripping the nail out only makes things worse?  What then? What if the nail hole left behind is even more difficult to you really want that on your conscience? 

It's not about the nail.

So I'm going to keep snagging my sweaters, dealing with the achy head, and struggling with the relentless pressure that I'm scared will never end.  It's not that I want you to ignore the nail or pretend it doesn't exist, it's just that I want you to acknowledge that dealing with the nail must be super-difficult and then treat me to a pedicure or a surprise date night because you're so in awe of my nail-enduring tenacity.

Unless of course the nail gets in the way of you getting lucky, in which case I realize I will probably wake up to find you prying away at my forehead with the claw end of a hammer.

Your crazy wife

(And just so we're clear, I think the video is an hilariously accurate representation of multiple conversations exchanged between my beloved and me.  That's why I had to share it!)

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