As I cycled into the office this morning, through the wonderful bright spring sunshine – knackered after a terrible night’s sleep (I always sleep badly after counselling – or any conversation with my husband for that matter), I reflected on last night’s couples counselling.

I feel frustrated that I cannot immediately respond to what he says, and I also sense his frustration with me as I require space to think, and even that doesn’t always result in answer. Frustration with the demands placed on me to respond in certain ways – my responses don’t always match what’s expected when they do come: he has a lot of anxiety around what I am going to say next. That’s not nice for him.

Sometimes, it’s as simple as my emotional response not being what you might expect: I might not get the correct emotional content from what is said to me, or how I think I feel doesn’t align with normal emotional responses. I might find something funny that really isn’t, or I’ll smile because I think I have seen a smile, or there may be no emotional response and instead the response will be a logical one.

Something I have noticed from what I have written above: “how I think I feel” – working out how I feel often takes a lot of thinking. I often think that I am feeling fine, but my husband will pick up on something and will say “do you have a migraine?”, which often makes me realise that I am in pain! Or, perhaps, that I am in a mood. He learned long ago not to use the ‘m’ word (mood) with me because, for reasons unfathomable, that would really irritate me!

Our counsellor spotted a couple of weeks ago that I say “I think” whereas my husband says “I feel”.

Recently at work, my boss noticed that I wasn’t my usual self. He sees me as a cheerful person. We talked about recent changes at work. He asked me what I felt and what I would like. Straight away the gears in my brain started to grind as I attempted to work out what was upsetting me and what I actually wanted. It was a week before I was able to give any sort of answer. He’s recognised that certain kinds of questions will do that to me. Ask me anything practical about my job, and my responses are as quick as lightning!

I think that my cheerful face is a mask that I have grown so accustomed to wearing that it rarely comes off in public. At home, at the end of a day performing, this mask is known to slip – guess to gets to see what’s behind it?

In yesterday’s counselling session, I went to speak a couple of times and my husband said “I am still talking.” I don’t always know when its my time to speak. The trouble here is that when I get that statement from him that my mind retreats into itself a little. I realise that I don’t always get these communication cues right with husband or with colleagues – I do seem to start talking over them sometimes, unclear on when they have finished speaking and there is an opportunity for somebody else to start.

What I am realising is that all this frustration belonged with me – my poor husband would usually be the recipient of it: he feels that a lot of my “default” reactions are angry. I’m thinking now that they’re not really angry reactions, maybe just frustrated – and not always with him, mostly with myself and my own limitations.

This insight enables me to own my frustration. I shall apologise to my husband for him being at the receiving end of it all these years.

Developing this insight might help improve my behaviour, even if I still can’t work out what I am feeling!