Arms folded tight across my chest, my jaw jutted out (Chase does a great impression of this) I was thinking, “I’ve got him. I’m beyond right, I’m brilliant.”

Often, I was. But is that the point?

I grew up an only child, caught in the crosshairs of a civil divorce. What they say is true, a great divorce is still a divorce. Luckily, I’m close to all my parents. But one of the aftereffects of this was my uncanny ability to relate to people older than me. Add to this the fact my mom worked at a college campus where I spent many of my post-school hours and summer days. I was surrounded by them: grown-ups.

After kindergarten I’d go straight to the president’s office (the father of my mom’s best friend) and schmooze him with my charm. He’d give me snacks. I returned daily.

I hung out with 20-something’s on a regular basis, was really good at P-I-G because I had a basketball rim at my constant disposal, and knew all the professors on a first-name basis, though I still said Mr. Then I’d go home to my mom, another grown-up.

It was a couple years into marriage that I realized my husband didn’t have the same appreciation for these stellar relational skills. In fact, he thought they were downright annoying. Recently I’ve also learned that I tend to communicate aggressively when things don’t go my way. Said husband would also say this is not a becoming quality of mine.

But so became our toxic dance.

“You come home and just check out.”

“Nothing’s ever good enough for you.”

Round and bitterly around we went for a long time. I was the parent who was always picking up the slack. He was never reaching the bar.

We both wanted to be seen. I wanted him to know that when he was in the room, I still felt alone. He wanted me know that all his hard work all day long was for us. I wanted him to know that connecting was important to me. He wanted me to know that he was doing that the best he knew how.

“He’ll always fail you, you know. He can’t really fill you. No human can,” said an oh-so-wise woman to me once. 

Huh. Are you sure? Because I’m pretty certain if he acted exactly like Westley in The Princess Bride everything would be fine.

Of course she was right. People let me down, all the time. They’re people, I’m people and that equals mess. I haven’t mastered this perfect balance of give and take, love and let live. It turns out, grown-ups can think for themselves. It turns out, so can I. And when I do, I have a lot more to actually offer.