Abuse Hides in the Dark. Turn on Your Light.

Mountains From Molehills

When my husband tells me I am making mountains out of molehills, it means HE is the one doing it.

Will and I tried to finish our money conversation last night. It didn’t go well EXCEPT for:

  1. I was able to tell him that I decided to return the stupid $30 calendar because I designed one for myself that will work a lot better.
  2. I was able to tell him that I didn’t think the school supplies were going to be so much money. I only put in the cart what was on Marc’s list – the things he needed. When the total came to $115, I figured I’d just tell Will about it when we got home. There was nothing to be done. (Well, I COULD HAVE returned the calendar right then, but I needed one.)

He said he was still mad and “Why didn’t you tell me this last night instead of dragging it out into a shit-load of drama?”

When my husband tells me I am making mountains out of molehills, it means HE is the one doing it. I told him that he wouldn’t let me answer the questions last night. He had already decided what my answers were going to be and wouldn’t hear anything else. And that when I did try to answer his questions he cut me off with insulting comments and mimicry.

I told him that his behavior made me angry and therefore, conversation with him was impossible for me last night. He said that he understood how that was possible.

Then he started in on why I bought the “Heavy Duty” binders for $16 instead of the regular ones for $8. I told him that I used to buy the cheap binders, but ended up replacing them half-way or sooner through the semester. The heavy duty binders are a better deal.

He said that he could understand buying the expensive binders for himself or me, but not the kids because they tear everything up. I agreed that they are rough on things, but my experience showed that it was better to buy the more expensive binders.

He said, “Have you ever TOLD them not to be rough with their school supplies?!” I should have just said, “Yes,” but I said, “They KNOW they’re supposed to take care of their school supplies,” and gave him an example of how I knew.

“Yes,” he said, “but the question was ‘have your ever TOLD them?’ and you said you hadn’t.” “Hence,” he continued, “you shouldn’t have bought the expensive binders!”

I thought, oh my God, here we go again. “Will, you just took my experience and made it worthless. I do have more experience with buying binders, the children DO know they’re to be as gentle as possible with their school supplies, and I DO believe I bought the correct binders.”

“What you’re saying is that my experience and conclusions mean nothing because I haven’t (or maybe I HAVE) at some point, told the kids in your words to be easy on their school supplies. I do not appreciate being told I’m wrong because I did not follow YOUR idea of how to decide on what binders to purchase.”

“There you go again, making MOUNTAINS out of MOLEHILLS!” he yelled.

I said, “Okay. I’m done. You’re being abusive,” and I left the room. Fortunately, he didn’t follow me. Instead, he went to the garage, grabbed some beer, and went to the neighbors house.

*Photo from Shawn Olsen Creative Arts

this post is an excerpt from Kellie Jo Holly's book