sandwiches

If there's one thing I've noticed about living with a man, it's that I suddenly find myself eating a lot more sandwiches. 

Deli sandwiches. Subway ones, too. Even the classic peanut butter and jelly has been making a frequent appearance in my diet. I'm going to use my amazing female intuition and posit that men love sandwiches (seriously, you have to click on that link) because they are delicious and the most low-maintenance of foods: simple to prepare and even simpler to devour. I'm right. You know I'm right.

Now that I've moved with my boyfriend, we've been eating a bunch of our meals together. If he's eating a sandwich -- and he is a lot of the time -- then I am too.

But it's not just the sandwiches that are different, it's other things, too. Things that are so much more challenging than consistently consuming meals in which no utensils are required.

The thing about living with a roommate who's so much more than a roommate is that you want to be at your very best all of the time. But when you live in the same space with someone (in our case, a very teeny-tiny space), you just can't do that.

Sometimes I'll come home from work and be a total grumpy-grumperson, the very worst version of myself.  You have those days too, right? When all you want to do is commandeer the sofa all night long with a spoon and jar of Nutella, watching enough reruns of Say Yes to the Dress until those women with the questionable priorities start to make you feel better about yourself?

I tend to make these situations drastically worse because I'm embarrassed and mad at myself for being so "off" in front of the person who I love and adore. So I externalize this anger and do things like snap, complain, accuse him of eating the last of the hummus (the other thing he eats beside the sandwiches). Ugh! I get so frustrated with myself when I'm like this!

And that's where When Things Fall Apart has been enormously helpful. Here's an excerpt that I find myself reading over and over again:

It's a transformative experience to simply pause instead of immediately filling up the space. By waiting, we begin to connect with the fundamental restlessness as well as fundamental spaciousness.

How does this apply here with the sofa and TLC and all the spreadable condiments?

Because it's helped me to relax. I've recognized my frustration and "restlessness" as my desire to want to be my best self in front of my boyfriend even though sometimes that's impossible. And instead of "filling up the space" so to speak with embarrassment and anger, I've made an effort to pause there on our couch and think: "I've had a really shitty day. I'm going to be quiet and sit here with bad food and atrociously bad TV and I'll be back to my regular self in a little while."

The number of shitty days hasn't decreased, but at least the spiraling out is a least a little more under control.

How do you deal with bad days?