Shame of the Second-Hand Drinker

My wife, Sheri, tells me often that I walk around like I’m carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. In fairness to me, I spend most of my time writing about some pretty weighty topics and communicating with people who are trying to keep their heads above water in the deep end of the pool. The work I do is incredibly rewarding and totally fulfilling. But my wife is right, it’s not very jovial nor lighthearted.

Sheri tells me she needs to see me be jovial and lighthearted more. It is not unusual for a person to talk too much about work with his spouse, and it’s not an unreasonable request for me to flip the switch and joke around with my wife. I’m working on it. Part of parenting is flipping that switch to protect our children from exposure to our heavy burdens, so I’ve been quite good at laughing with my kids for as long as I’ve been a parent. But now I’m learning to give my wife that same warm and comforting easygoingness that she needs. It’s a struggle for me to stop constantly unloading my worries onto her, but I’m getting better at it.

Here’s the thing: Sheri can’t listen to me talk about my struggles as an innocent observer. She has been with me for twenty-five years now. We are in it together. My struggles are her struggles. And if they aren’t her struggles, they sure remind her of her struggles. And she just doesn’t want to struggle all the time…