How My Husband Tempered My Tantrums

Christine Walker shares how her husband’s grace and acceptance brought them trust, and allowed her to let go of her fear and anger.

The night I got engaged, my family sat down to discuss how much they were morally obligated to tell my fiancé about me. I was notoriously difficult to get along with, and no one had ever known me to back away from a fight. Ultimately, my family decided the most ethical thing to do would be for my mom to give my fiancé a gentle warning. She pulled him aside, and said, “I want you to know that if I had to describe Christi in one word, it would be: intense. I’m sure in the throes of romantic love, my husband heard her and thought Yes, and that’s one of the reasons why I love her, while he smiled and gazed at me across the room. He had no idea what he was in for.

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Our first year of marriage was more or less idyllic. We lived in a gorgeous part of the country where the sun always shines. We both finished work around four o’clock and had virtually no external obligations except to spend time together. We laughed, we played, we travelled; life was good. I’m sure there were things we disagreed about. There had to have been some, but I don’t have those memories.

Honeymoons never last forever though, and ours didn’t either. Gradually, fights crept in. I quit a job I loved to stay home with our children, and we moved across the country to pursue my husband’s career. Doing this was my choice, but I wasn’t prepared for how lonely and unhappy I would be. I blamed my husband for the way I was feeling and our fighting increased and intensified. I think we both wondered if our marriage was going to last.

Then one night, everything changed. We went out with friends and my husband made a witty comment he intended as an affectionate jab; but I was humiliated and insulted. As soon as we got home, I accused him of being insensitive and unaware. He was surprised and defensive. I loudly explained that I was hurt, but he didn’t seem to appreciate my pain. He continued to insist I was wrong. I used words and metaphors to clarify my explanation. He still didn’t get it. My desperation increased and so did my volume. If I couldn’t get him to understand, I would be sentenced to a life of public humiliation, so I tried even harder, shrieking loud enough to rattle the door frames. It didn’t translate, and he maintained his innocence. My frustration overflowed, and I ran downstairs. Luckily my keys were not on the key hook or I would have left and driven away, and I can’t say for sure if I would have come back. Instead, I grabbed a shoe and shattered a mirrored wall in our basement.

My husband heard the noise, ran downstairs, and grabbed me from behind in a bear hug. He lifted me off the floor and pulled me away from the broken glass, the he set me down. He turned me around, took a deep breath and said, “Please believe me. I didn’t want to hurt you. I’m not lying when I say I was just being playful and flirtatious. I still have no idea why you interpreted that comment to be hurtful; but if you did, then you did. I can accept that, even if I don’t understand it. If you really want me to stop teasing you, then that’s what I’ll do.”

Immediately, the pressure in my head subsided and I bit my bottom lip to hold back the tears. What I deserved was a lecture on how much it was going to cost to fix the wall. At the very least, I expected a cold, silent distance. Instead my husband addressed my fear.

I committed myself to him the day we got married, but I devoted myself to him the night he proved he could love me at my worst.

I wasn’t sure how to respond. I had never met anyone who could be targeted by one of my meltdowns and still show me they loved me, ever. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d walked out, but he didn’t. I committed myself to him the day we got married, but I devoted myself to him the night he proved he could love me at my worst.

Since that night, he’s proven over and over and over that even my deepest, most intensely guarded feelings are safe with him, and I like to think I’ve done the same for him. There are still plenty of things about me he doesn’t and will never understand; but that’s OK. I could say the same about him.

He’s not a stay-at-home mom and he’s never going to understand the challenges of that, but he knows what it’s like to have a hard day. If I tell him I had a hard day, he will pitch in and lighten my load. He’s a private person so he doesn’t know what it’s like to write something personal, like this, online and get criticized by strangers, but he knows what it’s like to feel personally attacked. If I fall into his arms and say people are being mean to me, he’s going to stroke my hair and suggest we watch a movie so he can hold me until I’m ready to try again. And yes, I do the same things for him.

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I wrote an article several weeks ago about how women unknowingly communicate contradictory expectations for men. A man I know responded by saying, “You just realized that women are nuts. Guys tell each other that all the time. We spend a lot of thought cycles trying to figure out how not to cause the next random meltdown. I know that sounds massively sexist, but it’s basically what it feels like being married; you learn to tune it out though. Either that or you go insane.”

To any men who can relate, I recommend reading this article by Jay Blevins, Weathering Her Emotional Storm. He spells out what you need to know to respond to a woman’s emotional storm, and I concur. I would also tell you this: I spent almost two decades consciously trying to control my emotions. I read every book I could find, and visited multiple therapists trying to fix myself, but nothing helped cure my tantrums as quickly and as completely as finding someone willing to see through them.

If you are experiencing torrential wind and rain within the walls of your home, there’s a good chance that what you’re really encountering is a tender soul desperately trying to protect herself.

The most important thing to remember when you’re facing a storm like the one I described is that those meltdowns are how some women defend their most sensitive feelings. As my sons would say, “The best defense is a good offense,” right? If you are experiencing torrential wind and rain within the walls of your home, there’s a good chance that what you’re really encountering is a tender soul desperately trying to protect herself. Identify what she’s trying to protect and accept it. Look her in the eye and offer to support her if you can. In time, the storms should start to subside.

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My husband and I still disagree all the time. There’s no way to escape differences of opinion when you’re raising four children together, but we haven’t had a screaming fight in over ten years. I’ve lost the need to defend myself around him. I know he will honor everything I feel, no matter how silly or insignificant it might seem to him. That knowledge makes my temper an unnecessary part of our marriage.