Pull up a chair, friends. Let’s talk about the time I almost got divorced over towels.
A dozen or so years ago, I was more on the “monster control freak” end of the anxiety spectrum instead of the milder “control enthusiast” end I mostly inhabit these days.
Jesse and I had been married less than 5 years. We were living in a house we loved, I had a business I loved, he was building a career he loved, we had three dogs and two or three cats we loved—everything was great. Except for the part where I was a complete fucking nightmare to be around because everything had to be done my way all the time, no exceptions, no matter what, or you were going to regret it. Yeah, I was a real treat. Just ask my husband, who somehow managed to stay married to me despite my best efforts to the contrary.
After approximately the millionth time I completely eviscerated him for “folding the towels wrong,” Jesse threw his hands up, told me (with remarkable self control, considering the circumstances) to go fuck myself, and didn’t fold another towel for, no joke, 10+ years. I’m guessing he wishes he had done that sooner, because him blowing up at me that made me realize I was so worried about being RIGHT that I completely forgot about being happy, being kind, being helpful, being generous—being anything that would make anyone want to be around me or that would make me want to be around myself.
That was what cued me into the fact that my anxiety was 100% running the show, and it was gonna run me into the ground if I didn’t get it under control. And, thankfully, I did. I still live with anxiety every day, but I’ve got it to where it’s one thing about me instead of THE ONLY THING. Like, case in point, I’m not even twitching despite the fact that not all of the towels in this meme about folding towels the right way are folded correctly. Trust me when I say that’s a big deal, and no, I’m not exaggerating.
I don’t know what your thing is—maybe it’s towels, maybe it’s the dishwasher, maybe it’s stuff that’s crooked, maybe it’s certain sounds, maybe it’s a million little things that if they’re not exactly right it feels like death by a thousand papercuts every day—but I do know that if it’s getting in the way of you being happy we should chat.
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No bullshit. No toxic positivity. Just peace.