I’m always blamed

Just like the time I came home from work to see my 2nd husband’s friend with a sour look on his face. “What’s the matter?” I asked. He replied, “You should know.” I should know? I had no idea. He pointed at the bedroom door.

There inside against the wall, all curled up, was my 2nd husband. The room was dark. The husband’s friend gave me no explanation and hubby couldn’t speak. Apparently, from what I now remember — I had triggered a break-down because I had asked him to kill a spider on the wall.

That was the beginning of the next months-long, odd marriage journey, but I don’t really want to go back there.

Today, many years later — and pretty reclusive myself — I would never want a spider to be hurt. I let them live in the condo whenever they move in. Even black widows. Well, I do move the black widows to an abandoned cabin on a hillside.

I guess the point of my story is that sometimes we trigger someone without meaning to be insensitive. It still happens to this day. My jokes come across to some as hurtful when I think they are playful. I’ll be having fun one minute and then I’m crying the next because I’ve offended someone. That has been my issue throughout life.

The 2nd husband’s friend was right. I should know. I never want a person to be hurt. I should know. Still trying to figure it out. I blame myself for being an idiot still.

And it’s hard to tell a normal story.