So, I give this radio interview on relationships, a Valentine’s Day thing, a few weeks ago. I’m feeling good, enjoying clever banter, offering some sweet expert advice on connecting and availability in relationships:

“Look each other in the eyes,” I suggested.

“Consider one another in your thoughts and decisions,” I laid out, um, expertly.

“Remember what you loved about each other in the first place.”

“Re-discover your connection by dating again.”

And so on. Good shit, yes?

Well, I feel like I’m on a roll. Book written, radio show “in the can”. I’m working and promoting and writing and talking, all of that.

And my wife Julie has been awesome, helping me with each bit of tedium my new career requires. So one recent morning, I start going on with her once again about how we have got to get Availability out there, help families and couples re-connect. We need PR and Marketing. We need a plan for publishing. We need to fix the blogs so they don’t just ramble on and on. And on.

I want to make plans. Now.

So I turn around, and Julie is looking at me. Just looking, not saying anything. But I know her, something’s up. She looks hurt, angry.

ME: (empathizing)”What?”

JULIE: (something like this) “I’m mad at you, John? Where have you been? You don’t talk to me about what’s going on. You don’t look at me. I don’t get it. It’s like you’re totally unavailable.”

ME: (in my head) “Unavailable? Hey, that’s my thing!

Busted.

She was, of course, completely correct. And my periodic lack of availability to her can be quite liquid, seeping from the corners of our lives into the center. I might, for example, just be unavailable on days when I see clients. That takes a lot of energy, right? And I can make up for it on other days. Except those days when I have to return phone calls, okay? And some days are for preparation. Sundays, for example, I need to make sandwiches for the days when I see clients. Or make phone calls. Or, gasp, both. Julie certainly cannot expect me to be available, then, on Sundays.

And so the absurdity of my anxiety-laden thinking goes. Eventually, I disappear altogether until Julie points out I’m gone.

That, I can see in my own eyes.

Truth is, I miss Julie on those days when we do not connect. We work best when we communicate. My life feels better, richer on those days. And please keep in mind, this is not work. It is my joy to connect with her. I love talking to her. She ‘s fun. She’s funny. She helps me keep my head straight.

Still, I miss a lot, too much, because I’m somewhere else other than in the moment, with Julie. This I intend to change.

I suppose that if I keep harping on Availability, then maybe, one day, I’ll finally get it. Until then, I hope to serve as your humble, imperfect expert.