I'd wanted to play a board/card game since I walked in the door. (Not because I'm particularly fond of this game we're playing these days, because I'm not. It's ok, and I hope I'll grow to like it, but so far it doesn't appeal that much to me.) I wanted to play, because it's a good way of interacting with you. Spending time with you, focused on a common project. I enjoy that. Enjoy being with you. Playing a game I'm shitty at, loosing to you and growing frustrated with myself.. That's easily worth it, just to spend time with you.
We play a single game, lasting maybe 15 minutes, and you tell me you don't want to play anymore tonight. I tell you I miss our longer game nights,when we used to play for at least a couple of hours at a time. Spending so much mental effort (/emotional labour), just to get you to play for 15 minutes, doesn't feel as worth it to me. I want to spend time with you, after all. More than just a few minutes.
You tell me (here I'm quoting what I remember you saying): "If you didn't have so much anxiety, maybe we could play more. Once you get better at this game, maybe you won't have so much angst, then we can do several games in a row."
I get really confused, unsure if I heard you correctly. I ask if that means that the reason you won't play is because I'm not a good enough player? You bite my head off, saying that's not at all what you said. Still confused, I ask if the problem is that I've got too much anxiety when we play? So I make the game less fun for you? Again you bite my head off, accuse me of willfully reading something into your words that you hadn't said. Tell me you can't argue with me, you don't have the spoons.
I grow increasingly confused, saddened and more frantic. From what I understood, if I'd just get myself together and not display my feelings when we play, or simply become a better player, we wouldn't have a problem. And you'd play more with me. Stating that, I'm again rejected. Told that you don't have the spoons to argue with me.
I'm not trying to argue. I'm trying, desperately, to make sense of what you just said. To figure out what you meant, or didn't mean, so that I can learn what you want from me. What do you need, so that we can play more? What can I do to make you happier or more comfortable? I just want to spend time with you, after all. Right now, it feels like the answer to what you need when we play is "less of me", and that makes me sad. I highly doubt that's what you meant, but you refuse to try to straighten this out.
I start to formulate a reply, beginning with "I don't try to argue, I just...". Then I stop myself. You said you didn't have the spoons for this. And you're right. You don't have the spoons for this.
If I keep pushing, I'll push you over an edge. You'll dissociate for a day, maybe two, and we'll both be miserable for even longer. I'd vastly prefer if you'd help me untangle whatever just happened. Help me make sense of it all, so I don't feel so sad and guilty and confused. But you are doing your best, and that sort of help just isn't on the table tonight.
Yes, your comment caused this confusion in the first place. It might be considered unfair to throw something like that out there, and then leaving it up to my tired, mentally unstable brain to interpret (all on it's own) whatever you tried to communicate.. That's bound to go badly. However, the cracks in my spirtitweb aren't your responsibility. You've got plenty of your own to deal with.
So I bite my tongue, and swallow my anxiety and confusion and sadness. I will not get enough words from you to untangle this mess, no matter how much I might wish otherwise. So I will keep being dysregulated, at this point that's a given. And it's better that just one of us is fucked up.
So I stop, like you ask. I stop. And I write.
If we can't co-regulate, I have to deal with my own shit. And this is how.
