Ya Know?

"My wife likes to get on me about my health. She says I have an addictive personality. You don't know how to do anything in moderation, Stan. You're going to die and leave me all alone just because you don't know when to stop!" He imitated the sound of his wife's voice, gesturing to the other men and women seated in the circle. It was his fifth anger management meeting.

"I try to tell her I'm fine, but she worries. That's all she does. She just lays there some nights in bed, and I can just hear her thoughts, ya know? She's always thinking, thinking, thinking. I can't stand that kind of loud silence. Sometimes I leave the room to go sleep on the couch, but she will follow me asking what's wrong and is our marriage ok, and I don't know how to answer her. I don't think it has ever been ok."

He looked up to see some nods and a few frowns.

"Anyway, it was after one of those nights. I just didn't sleep well. I woke up and my back was hurting. I walked into the kitchen and there she was standing in her night gown, leaning against the sink, her arms crossed in front of her, just ready to go at it.”

Stan shifted in his seat. It creaked loudly in the church basement. He cleared his throat and continued.

"I really didn't mean to do it. Ya know?".

Nods were given from around the room.

"She just made me so mad. I’d had enough. So, I back handed her. I told her it was too early for that shit.” Stan sighed heavily before looking into the eyes of the group’s facilitator. “I just…” he paused. "I need coffee. Especially in the mornings. Ya know?”