Expectations of Perfection

There comes a time in every writer's life where 1) they have to be willing to make themselves vulnerable in their writing and 2) they have to write about the people they love...and the people you love have to learn to accept being written about;) I'm less than confident about calling myself a writer, but technically, I guess I am on some level. I'm having a slightly glum day. I had a fight with my husband last night. I'm really trying hard to settle into my new home, as well as be a good wife...and I've only been a wife for a little over 9 months, so I have very high expectations of myself, on both fronts. Sometimes I feel like I fail at it, and of course, I don't always think it's entirely my fault;) I grew up without any relationship role models, since my dad died young and my mom never got into another relationship, but I'm sure most young marrieds don't really know how things are 'supposed to be'. Majority of the time I can really pat Steve and myself on the back for how well we do, and how much we've grown over our time together, moving continents while entering new and different stages of our relationship. But when we have a bad moment, I get a feeling in my chest somethiang like heartburn...and I felt like that last night. I decided to go to a Meet In pub meet (on my list of to do items below) and I invited Steve's ex, as she's been in and out of the country for quite some time and I thought she might enjoy meeting some new people as well. As most of my friends know, I have had a very difficult time adjusting to Steve's friendship with his exes. This one is very nice and I enjoy her company, though, plus I know she is important to Steve and I want to make an effort. Given that, I still find it a hard transition to get used to the idea and a lot of what we talk about at this point has to do with Steve, and she and Steve, and Steve and other people, so I ended up on 'information overload' last night, although I didn't realise until I got home, at which point I had a bit of a go at Steve.... "Why didn't you tell me this? Why did I have to hear that from someone else?" (You can't always go the route of "Gee dear husband, I have something on my mind. Can we please talk about it rationally and calmly?") But of course, since men love that sort of behaviour, it got me nothing other than an icy silence from my man. Since I was already feeling a bit crap, I had lots of nightmares and would prefer to be hiding under the covers at home rather than be at work today. Every couple argues, but when me and my man do, it always feels like such a waste of energy and time, as I'm sure it does to...well, every couple who argues. Sometimes I think being an expat (can I blame it on that?) means one needs to lower their expectations of perfection for themselves. I'd like to be the perfect wife, settling in perfectly to her new home, and being perfectly professional at work, not bothering anyone with her imperfect problems.