Closing Out 2013

Probably my last post for 2013.  My year is ending on a downer, it is spiraling and I can't seem to slow the ride.  Not in a horrible way, just my depression eating away at me a little more than normal.  I feel better, but I don't feel "right".  Not as right as I want to feel.  It's just everything I suppose- the weather, the season, staying at home, family, friends, this town.  Everything.  I'm amazed at how easily I get overwhelmed, by nothing.

I came across an old journal the other day, one from about two years ago.  I found so many entries about hate and anger, even a few written on my worst days. There were entries detailing how I looked online about committing suicide with Tylenol PM.  There were entries about wanting to drive my car off a bridge the next time I went out.  Too many entries about how much I hated myself.

I haven't had days that bad lately, but I am feeling the walls of the pit caving in on me.  I haven't found the will or energy to climb up out of it these last few weeks.  The tears come for no reason, at the most unexpected moments of the day, and my heart hurts.  I'm looking forward to a few positive changes coming at me, to kick off 2014.  I have plans.  I will make them work out.  I will make my life work out.

2013 wasn't a bad year, things have improved.  Just not as fast or as much as I had hoped.  I am impatient.  J is my rock and my light, as always, but he can only do so much to fix me internally.

I'll be back soon.  Just no words for right now.  There's a happy ending out there for me somewhere.  I'm still searching.

Whichever holiday you celebrate, I hope you have a wonderful one.  I will do my best to do the same.

Love- MISS GEE

Sigh

I haven't much felt like blogging lately.  I haven't much felt like doing anything lately.  I'm not sure why.  My brain and body have shut down recently, at a time when I need them the most.  I have started SO many posts over the last few weeks, and set them all aside.  I can't seem to finish a single one.  I can't remember what I wanted to say, or my interest quickly wanes, or I just don't want to think about the subject anymore.  I've been writing serious posts, about family relationships and the ex-husband.  I'll finish them one day.

We are hitting the busy part of the year, when I will only have tiny spots of time to myself here and there.  We were on vacation last week, the last big one for a very long time.  As soon as we got back this week, I've been in a frenzy because we have company coming in just a day or two.  As soon as they leave, then we get on the road for Thanksgiving, where we have to split our time between J's family and mine.  Then the same Sunday we get back after that holiday, we literally have more company coming to stay for a few days.  In December, we will have the weekend of the 7th home alone, and that is it.  We then head off for a five day visit back to our old hometown.  Then we have company at Christmas for several days.  New Years we also go off, since that is my birthday weekend. January we know we have at least one trip back to the mountains to visit J's family.  February is already full of plans as we celebrate both our wedding anniversary and then J's birthday.

My best friend once told me, our schedule makes her dizzy.  And she raised two sons!  She said we never stay home and when we are home we are busy with company visiting or big projects around the house, she said she wouldn't be able to stand that.  I told her I didn't think we were that busy, but I guess maybe we are.  I don't know what she does on the weekends, I know some people just like to sit around and do nothing and relax.  J isn't that way, if he stops to sit on the couch for five minutes, he falls asleep so he's always up and doing something.  I try to keep up, but J's energy surpasses mine by a mile.  We had a hard freeze at home while we were away on vacation, we came back to a completely brown yard and most of the plants dead, and all of the trees barren of leaves.  I know I should be out doing yard work, but every day I find some excuse not to get out there.  And it's not like I'm doing anything in the house that takes up all my time.

My days have been slipping through my fingers lately, and I have nothing to show for it.  I am not sitting around or watching TV, so I'm not sure how it goes from 7am to 2pm in the blink of an eye.  I know sometimes I snuggle in and read too much, but if I have to have a vice, getting absorbed in 19th century literature is not a bad thing to be addicted to.  J is busy at work this week.  His department had a big project that his boss was supposed to handle while we were gone on vacation, and of course the boss mysteriously disappeared from the office for three days last week.  So, nothing got done. J left the house this morning and said, don't make dinner tonight for him, it will be 8pm or later before he gets back.  He has until Monday to get it all done, and it requires him traveling to all the offsite locations to meet face to face with supervisors and employees about some new- very very serious- corporate policies.  There are eight of these locations, and he now has only four days to visit them all.  Some of the locations are more than a two hour drive, one way.

I haven't worked on my pottery in a long time.  I've only made 8 sales on Etsy, so it hasn't exactly inspired me to lock myself away in my studio.  I should be working on it nonetheless.  I have a friend I promised to make two dishes for, to give as Christmas gifts, and I haven't even started them yet.  She has to have them by December 15th.  My studio is a mess.  J built wonderful storage cabinets for me, but the problem is I have so many jars of glazes and rubber stamps and whatnot, I have to dig out anything I want to use.  My work table (and the surrounding floor) end up littered with tons of junk, because I'm so lazy I don't put it all back when I'm done with it.  My goal is to get it cleaned and organized this week before our company comes, yet at the same time I know I have to get in there and work on making new items.  It's no one's fault but my own.  I'm not complaining, just trying to figure out why I am the way that I am.  Perhaps I should just give up the battle in this one area of the house- I can't seem to merge "creative" and "organized" together in one workspace.  The devil on my shoulder is saying just keep the door closed.  It's the bonus room upstairs, no one ever goes up there anyhow.

Despite my attitude, I do love all the visitors at our home and trips away, to spend time with all of our family and friends.  I am trying to not be so grumpy right now, and recognize that it is my favorite time of the year, without a doubt.  I am just having trouble transitioning to it right now.  Last week, swimming with my baby in Cozumel.  This week, alone and cold and surrounded by housework.  It's enough to make anyone pause and say, damn.  I know by the time the doorbell rings for the first time this week, I'll be happy to see everyone, happy to bake, happy to decorate, happy for the holidays, happy to be me and be alive.

MISS GEE

Keep Your Eyes Forward

This weekend J and I were able to escape to the mountains for a few days.  We needed it.  He needed it to get his mind off work, I needed it to get some alone time with him.  Shocking to say, as we have no children that I would complain about needing his undivided attention.  But the truth is, during the week we get into a rut and routine just like everyone else.  At night, at home, he still has duties to fulfill and chores to attend to.  Yesterday he had to get up at 4am to go in early, so that he and the HR manager could meet with some third shift employees before they went home.  He was able to come home early- for him that meant 6pm- and we had a nice walk in the neighborhood so we could chat.  Tonight is one more night alone for me- he won't be home until 10pm or later, due to yet another meeting offsite.  He said this should be the last one for this year- he and his boss try to visit the many outlying offices twice a year, to reach out and make face to face contact with employees they wouldn't otherwise ever see.  They may not be under the same roof, but these are still employees that J is over and responsible for.  This meeting and dinner is almost two hours south, so it'll be a late one, and even though he gets a break for a few months, I know they will start up again next year.  This morning he was sitting on the edge of the bed, quiet.  I jokingly asked him if he was meditating.  He said he was trying to think of a good reason for calling out of work.  He was being honest, but wasn't really contemplating it.  In the 16 years with the company, he's never called out sick once.  Ever.  Not to say he doesn't have colds or the flu or headaches and backaches.  He just takes his responsibilities extremely serious.  But we have a week-long vacation coming up, the holidays, and then a super long weekend in December where J will use up his last vacation days.  We've got more alone time on the near horizon, so I'm not fretting about his work schedule right now.

It was cold up in the mountains this past weekend, freezing, refreshing, spirit-mending.  22 degrees and bright blue skies.  I was getting all sorts of crazy stares as I wasn't wearing any kind of coat or sweater.  Every time we stopped to take photos of snow or icicles, J stayed in the truck with the heat on, he gets cold easily.  I love it, I stayed out there until my hands and cheeks were numb.  Back in town this week, it's in the 60's.  Yesterday I was out running errands in a short-sleeve T, and I saw others bundled up in wool coats and scarves.  Yes, seriously.  I suppose I was the one this time giving them the "what are they thinking??" look.  I rarely wear a coat in the winter in the daytime, no matter what the temp is.  The only time I ever bundle up is when the wind is strong and biting, or if it's evening and I know I'll be out in it for awhile.  Winter is too brief down here.  We've gone two years without any snow now.  I wait for it like an excited little kid every year, J dreads and curses it because of how it disrupts work- employees calling out, his drivers having accidents, our customers closing up.  Of course, where I grew up on the beach, there was no winter.  I think they are still having 80's right now in my hometown.  I don't miss that at all. I wish J and I lived in a place that had truly serious snowfall. My dream life is a self-sufficient log home in the mountains, where we could stock up on all our essentials and plenty of firewood, and snuggle in for the winter.  But only as a retirement option, only if neither of us had to leave and get on the roads.  J and I are old-fashioned, we still like to read real books and magazines, play board games and cards.  I could see us getting snowed in somewhere and relaxing.  It probably won't ever happen, J abhors cold weather (and sitting still), so I don't ever see us moving much farther north than we already are.  And we're on the 33rd parallel, not north by any stretch of the imagination.

I am a bit nostalgic this week for some reason, still.  I think it's the approaching holidays.  When Halloween rolls around, I start thinking about childhood and my hometown, friends and old memories.  When I was a little kid, I can remember that one day every year, coming home from school and my mom would be hanging the Halloween decorations.  She had a big paper scarecrow she would put on the front door, with posable arms and legs, we would move him around every day to a new position.  In the windows she would hang these little dancing witches and monsters, made from cardboard and string and tissue paper.  I don't know how to describe them, I don't think they make them anymore and I can't find them online.  Even though it would be warm outside, she would open the windows to make them blow around in the breeze. We usually made a ghost by draping a white sheet over the lamppost in the front yard.  After Halloween came the paper and cardboard turkeys and pumpkins and pilgrims all over the house, and her wooden carved bowls shaped like acorns which she would fill with all sorts of whole nuts in their shells.  I loved picking out all the hazelnuts and cracking them open, they were always my favorites. Then it was a short jump to Christmas, and our spindly little tree with handmade ornaments from construction paper and glitter, and the fake cardboard fireplace with glowing orange and yellow lights to mimic the flames.  Our tree had the big old-timey bulbs, the ones that got super hot to the touch and made noises that sounded like crickets chirping as they blinked off and on.  My little sister and I would just sit by the tree every single night once it went up.  I can remember how we would take off pieces of tinsel and hold it stretched out across our thumbs and blow on it, making whistling sounds that were annoying, but my parents never once told us to stop. So for three months our house stayed decorated in some fashion.  I try to do the same here at my house, but my decorations are shiny and new and don't give me that sense of joy and wonder like the ones from my childhood.  Unless you grew up in the 1960's, you probably don't remember decorations that were made from assorted papers, and not plastic.  I miss those times.  Now Halloween is dinner out with J so we (he) can avoid all the kiddies, I spend Thanksgiving with my in-laws, and at Christmas my parents come to our house every year.  I haven't returned "home" for the holidays in many years. And it wouldn't be the same, even if I did.

Maybe I'm also a bit nostalgic because on Facebook this week, I saw some friends of mine celebrating the birth of their first grandchild.  True, plenty of my friends have grandkids already.  But, this was my old boyfriend, the one I dated on and off and on again from 8th grade all the way until I settled down with my first husband in my early 20's.  He went off to college, but would reconnect with me whenever he was back home.  Even when I was with W, I used to dream about this guy all the time, and in my dreams he always showed up to rescue me from my crappy marriage.  This is the boy I always thought I would marry one day.  Red hair, an easy smile.  He's a well-respected doctor now, still in our hometown.  He's the reason I got on FB a few years ago, I desperately wanted to see what he looks like now.  And he looks the same, completely the same, completely handsome.  My dad sees him every once in awhile around town.  He eventually married another girl we went to school with.  She was divorced and had two small children by then.  They never had kids of their own, although they've been married for so long, these girls are very much his.  So the oldest daughter just had a baby.  I saw the photos of my old boyfriend, sitting at the hospital waiting with his wife, then photos of them holding the baby.  I can't describe how I felt seeing those photos, not jealous because his wife was my friend once too, but it was a weird unexpected feeling, and I don't know that I could even put words to it. It's odd, my hometown is bigger than where I live currently, but was small enough that plenty of my high school friends just stayed there and married each other and started raising the next generation.  Life was good when we were all kids, riding our bikes to the beach, going to football games on Friday night, meeting for pizza and video games at the mall.  I had a damn fun childhood.

So maybe I'm just thinking about the old me, the first half of my life me, the one who existed before W got into my head.  I wonder what my life would have been like, had I not met him.  The week W and I were moving into our new apartment, the old high school boyfriend and I went out to dinner to talk.  He wanted to reconcile- we were off and hadn't been "on" for awhile.  It was over 12 years of back and forth with him, but it was done now, I knew.  He tried to woo me, he spent hours trying to convince me to give him another chance, but I was already with W.  But I think about it now, knowing what I do about how the relationship with W turned out.  What if I had stayed in my hometown, what if I had given the old high school flame another chance.  I think about all it means, how it turned out for me, having left my hometown. A strained relationship with my mother, a nonexistent one with my sister.  Missing out on my nephews growing up.  People who were best friends with me thirty or twenty years ago, but wouldn't recognize me if they saw me walking down the street today.  I don't actually miss living my old life, it was wonderful but also as awkward and unfulfilling back then as it is now.  But I just wonder sometimes.  Who would I be now, instead of the person I am at this moment?  Or would it have mattered where I lived or who I was married to, if I had kids or not, a career?  Does any of that really define me now?  Would I be happy or still struggling with depression?  I would like to think that no matter what I would still be the same person, I would still like the same books and music, I would still have the same favorite color and favorite movie, I would still have the same dreams for myself, the same sense of humor.  I would like to think that my very core, my soul, would not be unduly influenced by the people and places that surround me. Even so, it doesn't stop the what if's of life that pop up, or the pangs of yearning for the old days.

Of course, leaving my old life and my hometown was the only way J would be able to come into my world.  And I know nothing could be better than that.  If J was my destiny, then all the choices I made- good and bad- were the right ones.

MISS GEE

How Do I Hold Up My Head?

Another long day here at my house.  It's a little after 7am as I start this post.  No idea when I will finish it, I usually leave my posts up all day and come back to them throughout the afternoon.  It is gray and very foggy out this morning, I can hardly see across the street right now.  I am sitting here in the office, watching the SUV's and minivans go up and down the road, all the stay-at-home moms taking their kids to school, then coming back to do their mom thing, whatever that is.  Probably the same thing I do- laundry, dishes, vacuuming, cleaning toilets.  We've had a few days of overcast skies but no rain.  Still too much green and too much humidity for me to feel like autumn has arrived, so we're still in summer mode.  Shorts, T-shirts, sandals.  I'm ready to break out the big woolly sweaters. I'm ready to crank up the fireplace.  Last night our backyard was covered by a herd of deer- moms and babies.  This morning it's a blanket of huge black crows out there.  You know, there just isn't really anything to complain about.  Why do I feel like life is such a burden right now.

J left for work a half hour ago.  He won't be home until 10pm or later, as they have an off-site meeting tonight.  This has been a rough week for me.  I hurt my back again on Sunday, so I've been creeping around in pain, shuffling around like an old lady who lost her walker.  J and I planted two dozen small trees (about 2-3 feet tall) in our back and side yard, hoping to create a living wall to block out the view of our neighbors.  They have decided to use their own backyard to throw all their junk- a wrecked car, broken dog crate, old basketball equipment.  Total violation of the HOA policies, which we pay quite a bit yearly to have enforced.  We've reported them several times, but so far, no actions have been taken.  So we planted fast-growing hybrid willow trees (photo from online catalog below) and hope that by planting so many of them, they will shoot up and out and we won't have to keep looking at the red piece of shit car with the crushed front end.  I try not to let things like this bother me, but it seems like we get notices about everything- leaving the garbage can out when it isn't trash pickup day, letting a few weeds at the curb grow too tall- but when we call the HOA to complain about something it appears they don't have time to send the same nasty letter to our neighbors.  It makes me angry, but to no avail.  Oh well.  Life isn't fair.

I think I've put out about all the fall decorations that I'm going to this year.  As I stated last year around this time, J doesn't celebrate or like Halloween.  He grew up in a very religious and very strict home, and Halloween was just absolutely forbidden.  So he's not a big fan of it.  When I was a kid- back in those good ol' days when our mom could turn us out all by ourselves in the neighborhood- the excitement of Halloween night was next to Christmas morning as far as we were concerned.  We looked forward to it SO much, my sister and I.  The first year J and I were married, he gave it a gallant effort to make me happy, but he just didn't enjoy Halloween one bit.  He tried to get into it, buying a funny mask and even going to the door to see all the kiddies.  But he said he just doesn't want to partake in it anymore.  I understand.  He doesn't have all the wonderful childhood memories I have of this holiday, he's not sentimental about it.  But, I let him have this one.  I decorate for fall, but on Halloween night we usually go out to dinner and come home late.  One year we kept all the lights off and just watched TV down in the basement.  The constant doorbell ringing drives our cats crazy.  I love fall decorations though, and try to buy ones that are not Halloween specific.  I buy "pumpkins" but not "Jack-O-Lanterns" so I can leave them all out from October through Thanksgiving.  And I especially love this time of year because all the stores have black kitty trinkets.  Since we have a house full of black cats, I can't ever pass up a black cat statute or painting or sign.

J and I always seem to be moving forward in our life together.  Whether it's home improvements or financial planning, working on our health or making new memories.  When it's the two of us, it seems as though there isn't anything we can't accomplish when we work side by side.  He motivates me to push onward, and I give him a reason for wanting to do something in the first place.  But I am still stuck in my personal life.  I can't seem to get any momentum going.  I'm almost to the point where I'm ready to throw in the towel, as far as staying at home.  J isn't ready for me to go back to work yet, and I'm starting to think he may not ever want me to.  The other day one of my former coworkers asked him what I was doing, and he told me he proudly said I was at home taking excellent care of our family.  I'm not sure where he came up with that, since family is just us two.  But he told me he's very very happy to have me continue to stay at home.  What he doesn't realize is that some days, that puts even more pressure on me.  Before, when I worked long grueling days, it's almost like I got a free pass- I came home pissed off, grumpy, tired, I didn't want to cook, didn't have energy to clean or exercise, and was growing fatter every day because of the stress eating and fast food lunches.  Now that I'm not dealing with any of that, I feel as though I have to be perfect.

I have nights where I have to put on that fake smiley face for J, and I don't like that.  He's always loved and accepted me no matter what.  But I feel that somehow we struck this unspoken deal- I got to escape from the awful job but in return I have to be happy from now on.  He doesn't understand that, although that job was breaking me, it wasn't the sole cause of my sadness or anger.  So much of it is still inside of me.  I've been able to let go of a great deal of the anger, but the heavy sorrow and listlessness continues to knock me down.  Most days I can get back on my feet well enough, but there are some days where I just can't find anything to grasp ahold of in order to lift myself up.  I thought my pottery would save me, I thought that being free to be creative and work on my art every day was my ticket to happiness.  But it just gave me something else to fret over (why isn't it selling?) and something else to get depressed about (everyone must hate it).  Instead of just enjoying the creative process and falling in love with my art, I instead constantly obsess over the minutiae of the business side of it.  I just can't let go, with anything.  I never stop worrying, I never stop wondering what's going to happen next instead of taking in the moment.  I never stop questioning if what I'm doing or feeling or thinking is the right path for me.

Perhaps my real issues are stemming from anxiety, and not depression.  The anxiety seems to always come first, and it sometimes ends up as depression.  I've suffered from panic attacks for a long time now, and maybe I need to devote a post about that subject.  I have always been a very anxious person, very controlling, very type-A.  If I'm not perfect, then I tell myself I suck as a human being.  I even look at my blog too critically.  I'm not sure if it's even helping me at all, the way I hoped it would.  I know I said I was writing it strictly for myself, but I find myself sometimes worrying about what a potential reader will see or think.  I'm whining, I'm lazy, I'm spoiled, I'm a moron.  If I was keeping this in a private journal, I would probably write the same things.

I know one of the things J wants me to work on, is my confidence level.  He sees my anxiety as a symptom of not believing in myself, in my actions, in my dreams.  He thinks if I were more confident, I wouldn't question absolutely everything, I wouldn't second guess every little thing, I wouldn't drive myself so crazy and I could relax and enjoy my life.  I wouldn't talk myself out of things I want to do, because I'm afraid I might fail.  I could cook a new recipe without worrying if it'll be good or not.  I could go hike without worrying I might get tired and not make it to the end of the trail.  I could keep painting without worrying if anyone else buys it.  So what if dinner isn't great, I tried and I'll find another recipe to try out.  So what if I don't make it all the way until the end of the trail, I'll walk as far as I can then turn around, having at least walked part of the path.  So what if some stranger doesn't want to purchase my art, at least I've enjoyed making it and I'm doing what I've always dreamed about.

Maybe J is right, maybe by not believing in myself, I've created the anxiety, the stress, the depression, the panic attacks, the defeatist attitude.  But where do I gain this confidence, since I've never really had any before.  J can't give it to me, the world isn't going to drop it in my lap, I can't buy it.  I've got to dig deep and find it- somewhere.  Could the answer really be that simple?  Could a low self-esteem really truly create all of my negative issues?

MISS GEE

(The trees below are only four years old!  Hope we'll get to see ours get that big.)

Hands Are For Holding

When I was growing up, I thankfully had no insights into what an abusive relationship looked like.  My parents didn't have a perfect marriage- absolutely no one does- but their squabbles were minor.  Slightly raised voices whenever they had polar opposite opinions on how to do something.  Stuff like that.  I always thought of my parents as being "old", but of course now that I'm closer to 50 than anything else, I realize that when I was in high school and rebelling against them, they were only around 40.  I thought they were old farts and didn't understand young teenage love, and had no life outside of just being mom and dad.  I forgot my mom was 19 when they got married.  But when I was 40, I spent my days and nights in love with J and our marriage was about fun weekends and flirty emails at work, kissing and snuggling in bed at night.  I am sure my parents probably felt the same things about each other, I just didn't see it because I was too immature and, because they were my parents and (gross!) I wasn't watching for any shared smiles or secret winks.  They are still happily married after 50+ years together, and managed to survive raising two spoiled bratty daughters.

My younger sister got married straight out of college, to the boy she dated during her last two years there.  She was married and a homeowner long before I even met my first husband.  Soon came two children of her own.  They've been married for over twenty years now.  They don't have a perfect marriage either. They argue a lot over minor things like my sister needing help with the housework when her husband wants to go watch TV out on the patio instead, or can he please go take their oldest son to soccer practice because she has a meeting at work.  I know for a short time a few years ago, things were tense and their line of communication shut down, and they went to counseling.  She told my mom that things are much better now.  They are still the "fun" couple, hosting BBQ's and taking vacations and making time to go out to dinner sans kids.  I see my brother-in-law playfully hug my sister, and while they may still yell at each other (their household is so noisy with two boys I think "yell" is the normal volume level) they also still laugh together.

When I met W, I just assumed things between us would fall into those same lines.  I'd had plenty of boyfriends, but he was my first serious adult relationship. At 13, do you really expect to marry that boy who passed you a love note from three rows over?  Go to the school dance with him, yes, but marriage?  W was the first man I dated that I thought, okay this is a guy I could marry.  And I did.  And up until that point, I thought an abusive marriage was that story on the news where the guy looks like a derelict as he snarls in his mug shot and she has a face covered in bruises and a busted bloody lip.  I was one of those misinformed women who said, geezus why is she still with him, how could she let him put his hands on her that way?  That would never happen to me!

I know I've posted before about the verbal abuse and growing physical abuse in my first marriage, and how I can't shake it off and let go of it, even though I'm now married to a wonderful man who adores me.  J has more than once told me that if I need to see a therapist about it, he wants me to go.  I am not against it, but I really don't think a stranger can offer me the insight that I need.  I know logically that none of it was my fault, that whatever happened was about what my ex had going on in his head, and it wasn't anything I said or did, it wasn't how I acted.  For a long time, I would tell myself that I provoked W into the fight or pushed the wrong buttons.  I knew his triggers, yet I didn't always avoid them.  Why was I the one tiptoeing around, couldn't he restrain himself and his anger?

When I look back, I knew probably from the first few weeks that this was not a man I should get involved with.  But I also thought that passion and drama somehow just naturally mingled.  All the times he ditched me to go get high, all the weekends he acted like he was still single, all the moments he made me cry and didn't feel bad for one second.  And that was while we were still just dating.  Sometimes that drama made me feel alive and excited, and I confused it with real love.  I did truly think that once we were married, he would settle down and grow up, but frankly his behavior just got worse.  Maybe things got a little better the first year or two, when work meant wearing a suit and tie and going on interviews at NASA (yes, really).  But he fell into a downward spiral at an alarming rate, and he intended to take me down with him.  I don't do drugs, I don't drink, I don't party.  I just wanted a normal life and a happy marriage, I just wanted my husband to be a responsible, caring partner.

The marriage fell apart over a decade later for all the reasons I've listed in previous posts.  But many marriages disintegrate yet stay intact.  I overlooked the screaming at me and the poisonous names he called me for a very long time.  At that point, I didn't see it as abuse when he told me how fat and stupid and lazy I was.  I just thought I was a terrible wife and he was stating facts about me, as painful as they were to hear.  How could I be those things when I was working two jobs while he sat on the couch smoking weed?  I didn't see it at the time, I just told myself if I tried harder, things would get better.

I don't remember the first time he laid hands on me.  It was much much later.  His anger and depression and drug use were all out of control.  The physical abuse started off with him pushing me into the wall, or throwing me down on the furniture, or grabbing my arm to jerk me around.  Usually when he was yelling at me and wanted to make certain I was paying close attention to his every word.  It became more frequent during the last two or so years of our marriage, until we couldn't have a rational discussion about anything without him rushing towards me like a bull seeing red.  He would raise his fist and shake it in my face.  I knew within a short matter of time, if I allowed him to push me around without consequences, that given the next opportunity he would escalate to a slap or punch upside my head.  I've posted before about him instead punching the wall or door next to my face as he pinned me against it and screamed at me.  I have no doubt whatsoever that he was capable of even more brutality, and I knew that was the road we were headed down.  Once he told me for the final time that he would not seek counseling, I knew it was completely my choice.  Did I want to continue to stay and hope that things would get better, or was I going to wake up and see him for what he was?  Was I going to be that woman on the evening news with the battered face, telling everyone he didn't really mean it, he's really a great guy, I said something that made him mad and it's all my fault.

Now I would never in a million years judge any woman caught up in an abusive relationship.  I am unbelievably fortunate to have a solid family support system, who reached out over the miles to help me legally and financially when I was ready to break away from the marriage.  And I was even more lucky that I met J at the time I was trying to move forward.  Without any of that, I may have taken the path of least resistance and stayed with W, simply because it was familiar and I would have been scared to do otherwise on my own.  Add in the fact that there were no children involved either, so I could escape without looking back.  I can understand how a young woman with little kids, no job, no other family could give in and overlook the faults of a man who takes care of her yet abuses her at the same time.  It was so easy for me to make excuses for W, it was easy to tell myself it wasn't abuse because I didn't have a black eye.  But any time a person lays hands on another in anger and intimidation and causes any kind of pain, that is abuse.  It doesn't always have to draw blood or leave a visible bruise or warrant the police showing up in the middle of the night.

I know there will be people out there who say what I went through was not true abuse, W was just a dick and I should get over it.  I am in a secure happy marriage now, and that other part of my life is best left to the dark shadows of the past.  I agree with the getting over it part, but for some reason it's still with me.  J of course makes me feel loved and safe and wanted, and when I'm with him I am certainly not brooding over the jackass I divorced nine years ago.  I am not for one instant second guessing any of the decisions I made.  I did the best that I could, and in the end, it worked out for me.  For so many women, it won't. I wish there was a J out there for every woman, but sadly there are way too many W's in the world.

Maybe I dwell on the past because I'm still the same me, and perhaps that scares me.  Did I truly save myself back then, or did I flounder and allow my family and J to rescue me?  What does that say about my strength, my weakness?  If I found myself in another bad situation, would I be able to take care of myself?  I can sit around and hope that nothing terrible ever happens to me in the future, but that would be irresponsible and unrealistic.  One day my parents will be gone, one day J may not be around for me.  It will just be me in a showdown.  Do I have enough self-preservation to survive, or do I submit because it's easy?

I don't know what kind of person I really am.  W used to tell me all the time "you're fucked up" and who's to say I'm not and I just don't realize it.

MISS GEE

More Of The Same

J left for work at 6:30 this morning, and won't be home until 9pm.  He has a big shot from corporate trailing him all day long, doing an audit, one that will continue tomorrow.  Actually, this is a "pre"-audit audit, to gauge how prepared his department is for the actual big week long audit at the end of the month. The audit is to get some kind of new certification, and although it's an internal audit, it's still the weight of the world on his shoulders right now.  J says he isn't ready, but I also know how self-deprecating he is when it comes to important projects at work that he has to head up.  Still, I heard him throwing up not long before he left.  I asked him if he was sick, he said no.  I think he's just like the kid who gets the tummy ache because he doesn't want to go to school.  J's been with the company for 16 years now, so it's not like he's expecting an ambush or bad news.  He just hates it that much.  I can't convince him to go work somewhere else, or even think about it.  He gets unsolicited calls from headhunters all the time, but he never returns them or even considers it.  People at the company who have been there longer, are heading for the front door in droves to go work elsewhere.  I don't know if it's J's loyalty that keeps him there, or it's just he's comfortable bunking with the devil he knows.  In 30 years this is only the second company he's ever worked for since he was out of high school.  I'm not sure he would know what do to with himself at a new job.  I don't think he wants to work for a new company, he just wants a new location.  This weekend he remarked how it was almost a year ago that his dreams were crushed when he didn't get his promotion.  Honestly, he's just never been the same since then.

As much as I loathe it, I am dedicating myself to housework this week.  No pottery, no reading.  Just a quick blog post this morning while I finish my coffee.  I had one of those moments last week.  During a phone conversation with my girlfriend back home, she told me she was going to use two of her vacation days this week to clean her house.  I realized with shame that every day right now presents me with that same opportunity and I ignore it.  I surface clean- just enough to wipe away the crumbs and vacuum up the cat hair- and our family deserves so much more.  Yesterday I started on one side of the house, and managed to get three rooms done and damn if it didn't take all day.  Everything.  Scrubbing baseboards, cleaning windows and ceiling fans, dusting every little knickknack, washing out garbage cans.  I even took each light bulb down and washed away all the crud that somehow gathers on the surface.  Who knew?  I cleaned areas that I wager I haven't touched since we moved in here.  I cleaned things that no one else but me will ever see or even notice, but that's not the point.  I wasn't looking for J to come home and say oh wow honey, you cleaned behind the toilet, that was so thoughtful of you!  So as soon as I finish this post, I will be giving the same top to bottom treatment here in the office.  Somehow I will clean around J's paperwork- it looks like a big mess to me but I'm sure he has it organized in a way that makes sense to him!  And no, my kitty isn't comatose, he just likes to keep me company when I'm typing away.

I am feeling better this week, my depression doesn't seem as severe.  Last week, I'm not sure what was wrong with me, nothing was really going on that would put me so down in the dumps.  But I was.  I even skipped my weekly support group meeting on Friday, and got an email from my leader saying they all missed me and hoped to see me this week.  I didn't tell J that I had skipped it, he would fuss at me with concern.  I have more blood tests this week, and two doctor's appointments next week.  My one doctor said, if my blood work looks better, she'll let me go three months before I have to come back, instead of monthly lab work.  That would be lovely.   Between the hospital stay for my liver, all the ongoing lab work, my broken tooth, and the hand surgery- all of them unrelated to one another- I've been poked with more needles since April than I ever have been in my entire life. Thankfully we have decent health insurance, we've needed it this year.  Who knows what the future holds though?  I am trying to stay blissfully ignorant of all the current political hubbub, and I couldn't tell you the first detail about Obamacare.  Oh, I read about it and watch the news, but depending on the slant of the paper or channel, I couldn't tell you if any of it's truth or party-related opinion.  Our household is divided- J and I are of opposite political parties and we coexist happily with no conflicts when it comes to that subject matter. We joke and say we just cancel out each other's vote at the polls anyhow.

The weather has been helpful this week too.  We had a big rain come through on Sunday afternoon and evening, and the temps dropped.  I am grateful for it. The trees haven't started to turn yet down here, but I am seeing hints of pale yellows and a blush of light red here and there.  Pumpkins are appearing on doorsteps all over the neighborhood.  The crows descend on our yard every day, and my cats sit patiently in the windows to watch their noisy antics.  Yesterday I was able to open the windows in the morning and leave them open the entire day, for the first time this season.  Normally I have to close them up in the afternoon and turn the AC back on.  I've been getting out the autumn decorations but more than likely no one will enjoy them but me.  My parents were supposed to come for a visit next week, but my father hurt his back and doubts he will be up for traveling by then.

J and I had "the talk" this weekend.  No, not the one you had with your parents when you were turning thirteen.  The money talk.  An update on how we're doing since I stopped working five months ago.  It wasn't a bad talk, and certainly not an argument.  There are a lot of places we started saving money the instant I quit my job, as in the gas it took to fill up my SUV for the 1,000 miles a month I commuted to the office.  Now I barely drive 20 miles a week going into town for errands.  But on the downside, I no longer put 25% of my paycheck into a 401K with matching contributions from my company.  Bummer.  J just said, we need to do a better job of cutting back expenses and sticking to a budget.  Uhm, what budget?  Yes, that's the problem, we haven't really set up one yet. And he did mean we.  And the biggest hunk of our expense pie that needs to be trimmed, is our traveling.  The actual cost of our travel is hard to figure out. We fly for free and stay at hotels for free, all because of points earned on credit cards and gambling at casinos.  We are platinum for the airline, platinum for the hotel, diamond for the casino, VIP for the cruise line.  Points and points amass.  We've flown to the West Coast for free, we've flown first class for free, we get free upgrades to suites at pricey hotels and on ships, we go to the head of the line at the casino restaurants and eat for free.  But guess what you have to do to earn all these freebies and points?  Spend!!!  So how free is it??  Exactly.  J said it's been a nice ride, but it's got to stop after this year, and he swore it has nothing to do with me not working right now.  He said we can still travel, but not at the expense of trying to keep up our "status" levels.  Since I don't gamble, if we never went to another casino ever again, I am great with that.

J and I went to a big arts and craft fair over the weekend, and it made me realize I am nowhere near being ready for that step with my pottery and painting.  I will continue to concentrate on my online business instead, and that's okay.  There isn't anything wrong with dreaming or making plans, but being realistic is also nothing to be ashamed of.  I know it's just a hobby, and just because I have business cards printed out with my "business" name on it, I don't see myself working the southeast craft fair circuit full time.  I talked to people on Sunday who do nothing but travel to shows every weekend, no matter where they are located.  I thought about just the expense of the travel, the cost of the booth space.  I would never recoup that with my small items.  I make and sell "supplies" to other folks, and most people who come to those fall festivals are looking for the finished product that they can immediately display or wear when they leave with it.

At this point, I don't expect any big changes for either of us for the rest of the year.  We'll go on our planned vacation in November, we'll see family and friends over the holidays.  We'll both celebrate turning 47 in the upcoming weeks.  J will continue with his long days at work.  I plan to keep plugging away at my art- and do better with the housekeeping. We'll go find fun local outings to attend on the weekends.  So unless something dramatic happens that I need to report, you can assume life goes on here as it always does.  It's time for me to get this blog back to where I originally intended for it to go- deep in my head to work out the many longstanding and unresolved issues that I continue to dwell on, the ones that continue to shape my daily thoughts and decisions.

MISS GEE

Swimming Through Cobwebs

My sadness continues and I don't know why.  I've started three other posts this week, only to abandon them because I couldn't get my thoughts together enough to say what I wanted to say and still sound coherent.  I have serious brain fog.  I have serious melancholy.  I have day after day after long day, free to do whatever I want, free to get my shit together and I can't seem to do it.  My horoscope this morning said that I needed to bring more optimism into my life.  All I could think was, having optimism doesn't actually make anything better, it just makes you think it's getting better.  And frankly, I'm sick of my whining.

I asked J this weekend about me going back to work.  It's been five months now since I left my job, and other than getting my (non-selling) pottery listed on Etsy and losing 30 pounds, I haven't accomplished a damn thing.  J said he really does not want me to go back to work right now.  Our old company would love to have me back, other departments said they would take me and I wouldn't have to deal with my horrible ex-boss.  I am flattered, but J said even if I do go back to work, he doesn't want me coming back to that place.  Long time employees are jumping ship, and newbies are fleeing within months of starting.  It's just turned into a terrible atmosphere.  J would get gone if he could, but he's toughing it out at least until our house is paid off in three years.  Not having a mortgage would free him up to find a less demanding career, perhaps doing something he wants to do, instead of something he has to do in order to be a fiscally responsible provider and head of household.

I do have a guilty conscience that I am now at home and J has to continue to work.  It's not as though I'm at home raising children- or chickens or goats or anything.  The cats are very independent and prove it to me every day by strutting away to go sleep in the nearest sunny spot.  J is now doing all the heavy lifting in this marriage.  I worry about him becoming resentful, but after all, isn't "retirement" the desired outcome of people our age?  I doubt most couples both retire on exactly the same day. My mom never worked, even after we kids were no longer under foot.  J's mom stopped working decades ago.  I may not be a mom, but I'm still a wife and a partner, I can still claim "home maker" or "house wife" as my title if I have to, as lame and unnecessary as that might be.  I worry that even if J really wanted me to go back to work, whether for the money or to keep me sane, he would say he wants me at home because he thinks that's what I want to hear from him.

Perhaps my most recent sadness stems from the post-surgical pain that is still lingering.  It's not horrible, but it is constant.  I still wear my brace when I need to, and I have been icing down the site every day to help with internal bruising, swelling, and pain.  The surgeon assured me it's perfectly normal, that while he was repairing the tendon he had to move aside many of the nerves, therefore they got pretty beat up in the process.  The pain I was having before the surgery seems to be gone, so once the nerve pain ends I hope that my depression lightens as well.  It's been a long year.  Many of the major things I planned to do once I left work- gardening, painting, cleaning up the basement- were put on the back burner.  I have to believe that being pain free physically, will also help heal much of the emotional pain and self-hate as well.  I haven't had a pain free existence for about seven years now, it would be remarkable to experience it, to not even have to think about it anymore.  Pain makes me feel worthless, hopeless, less than a whole human.

I feel as though I have NO RIGHT to complain about anything, pain included.  I feel beyond fortunate, and I get mad at myself for feeling anything other than spiritual bliss and complete gratitude. I may not have won the Powerball, but I've won the lottery of life.  But that's been the point of my blog.  I have all the comforts that this world has to offer, but I am still always so miserable and so very unhappy.  Why?  Besides untreated depression.  I've tried to start a daily gratitude journal, but I don't keep at it for very long.  I haven't tried in a long time, and perhaps it would be a good project to get rolling again.  Last year, when I was going through a rough patch, J gave me a stack of blank index cards and every day for a few weeks he had me write down five good things that happened that day, or five things I was happy about.  He said I couldn't repeat anything from day to day.  Every evening I had to give him my card and he kept them all.  I know he meant well and it was just an exercise much like a gratitude journal, but it just showed me how much I had to struggle just to come up with five happy thoughts for one day.

J still says that the only thing he wants out of life is for me to be happy and healthy, which was the number one reason he wanted me to quit my job and stay home.  But he also said he expects to see results and improvements, to make the financial sacrifice of my job worth it.  Every night when he gets home, he asks me two questions.  Did I take all my medicines, and did I get on the treadmill.  Those are his chief concerns about my day.  If I answer yes to both of those queries- and by that I mean did I actually truthfully do those things and I'm not just saying yes to appease him- then everything else in his world is okay.  All the hardships and frustrations he endured himself at work, are worth it so that his wife can take care of herself.  That's the type of husband he is.  And of course if I'm not doing those two things, my blood pressure monitor and the bathroom scale will tattle on me.  Not that he looks at or keeps track of any of those numbers, but I do.  If walking two miles on exercise equipment in the basement sends my husband over the moon with joy, then I would be a pretty big idiot not to do it faithfully.  If I forget to unload the dishwasher or take out the trash, those are offenses he can and does overlook.

I don't want to go on prescription medications for depression, I already take enough pills every day for all my other physical ailments.  I don't think I could stand adding more to my routine.  I've turned to the web for help.  At this point I'm open to anything.  Herbs, tea, yoga, meditation, organic, vegan. I don't care. Just something to clear away the doleful dust bunnies in my brain and get me back on the right road.

Yes it's dawn as I write this and a new day, but sometimes that fresh start is the hardest part for me to deal with, it puts so much pressure on me.  Sometimes it's the very end of the day, when it's all over at least for just a little while, that I look forward to the most.

MISS GEE

Eventually

I had started another post but deleted it.  I found it to be hollow and very fake.  I think I was trying to cheer myself up, but I'm not sure that is really what I want- or need- to do.  I reminded myself yet again, this blog is supposed to keep me honest, this is my blog for my real feelings, no matter what they are.  The "phony happy" stuff is for my other blogs that the family reads.

I think I'm just super down right now because J is in Philadelphia for the week on business, and after a few weeks of sunshine it's back to being rainy and dreary again here.  Combine the two and I'm just mopey.  J thankfully doesn't have to travel overnight much, and seldom for this long.  So our nights apart are few. And in being honest, there is a little piece of me that is somewhat relieved for a night or two alone.  I can miss J at the same time that I enjoy the evening to myself.  I can shuttle aside the domestic duties of dinner and a clean house, in favor of frozen pizza and reading for hours in my pajamas.  Truth be told, even five months of staying at home now, and I still can't stand doing the housework thing.  It's just not my forte.  I am growing to love my pottery more and more, but when I have to push myself away from my work table and clay and glazes, to go empty the dishwasher, I do get a bit annoyed.  And that's just me being selfish.  We have a beautiful home that I absolutely do not take for granted, and I should be ashamed at myself for not wanting to keep it at its cleanest.

Anyhow.

I've talked before about being alone and being lonely, and the difference between the two.  I am still doing fine as I go through my days alone.  Even to make a small pottery piece there are so many steps involved- shaping the wet clay and firing it once it's dried, glazing it and then firing it again, photographing it and listing it online, packaging and shipping it.  Yes, even just for one tiny bead or charm.  As an artist, being alone most of the time is the key to creativity, and there really isn't any other way to spend your time if you are working on a project.  And I'm okay with that, and my personality is perfectly suited to working by myself.  I see J every morning before he goes to work, we talk at least once a day on the phone, and then he comes straight home every evening as soon as he can.  Usually by 8pm, but that's a part of our marriage that I've learned to accept.  With the new responsibilities he took on when we moved here, later nights at work are just part of the normal routine.  Nothing I do or say is going to get him home to me any sooner.

I have been feeling a bit lonely these days.  Okay, really lonely.  I've come to realize that other than J, I am alone in my current world.  Maybe that's being a bit melodramatic, but it's how I've been feeling.  I've been talking to my long-distance best friend again, having our marathon chats on the phone.  Despite her severe depression, she's been my best friend for almost 13 years now and I just don't want to give up on her, no matter how much she brings me down.  I've about convinced J to take us "back home" for a weekend visit soon, so I can see her.  She was overjoyed at just the thought of having lunch with me.  But she and my other closest friend, are both 300 miles and 5 hours away.  I don't have anyone here.  

Recently I had lunch out with one of the ladies I used to work with here, and tomorrow I'm having lunch with another former co-worker.  But you know sharing an hour with someone, talking on the phone or having a meal out, just isn't the same.  They are barely more than acquaintances, not the type who would drop whatever they are doing at that moment to come pick me up if I was stranded.  I don't really have anyone like that now in my life, except for J.  And lately that's made me sad.  I miss my friends from my past life.  I miss my old city.  I deeply miss my old house.  I miss all the places that I used to go- alone, with girlfriends, with J.  Truthfully, there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about our old life.  J confesses that he is the same.  I know he has been equally as unhappy in our new life.  He too left behind friends and favorite haunts.  Neither of us has really connected with anyone new here, even after five years.  He tells me at least once a week, he has never been more sorry about anything than he is about taking this job and moving us.

But that situation is not going to change.  We are not going to move back to our old town.  Even if we did, we couldn't have our old house back and probably couldn't even get into our old neighborhood.  It wouldn't and couldn't ever be the same.  Even the little bagel shop we used to walk to every single Sunday morning, has closed down.  It's funny, I lived in that town for 13 years, and I complained about it all the time.  Truth is, it had nothing to do with where I lived. It was who I lived with.  When I was with W, I was miserable, so I blamed a lot of my unhappiness on the town- he moved me from my hip hometown on the beach to a little hick town for his new job.  I took out my anger at W, on the town instead.  For ten years I put it down, I told everyone how stupid and backwards the town was and how I hated it, and hated living there, and I just wanted to get away.  Substitute the word "town" for "husband" and you see where I was coming from.  Yet once I was with J, my world changed from the inside out and suddenly that little town wasn't so bad after all.  Suddenly I grew to love it, and now here I sit, removed from it almost five years ago, and I miss everything about it.

Our routine was basically the same back then.  We worked together, we took lunch together when we could.  I worked a crazy shift- 4am until 1pm.  I went home in the afternoons and got the chores done, worked on my art or relaxed with a book, then he came home later in the evening and we had dinner.  On the weekends we ran around and did fun things like estate sales or went up to the mountains.  Pretty much nothing has changed for us.  Except our home, our neighborhood, our friends.  We do the same things here, but it isn't the same.  I don't like this house, I hate this neighborhood, we don't have real friends.  This time, when I say I hate this town, I really AM talking about the town.  But, this is where J and I decided together to move.  J isn't crazy about this town either, but we are stuck here for a good long while.  We are trying to make the most of it, but it's been rough going.  If J and I didn't have each other, I'm not sure what either of us would do.  J leans on me as much as I do him.  Moving here made our relationship stronger, but it also made our world so much smaller.

I know it's my fault I haven't made friends.  I had plenty of opportunities when I was working, to make a friendship stick.  I just didn't meet anyone I truly clicked with.  Finding a good friend is like falling in love, you know it the instant you meet the person.  Friendships shouldn't be forced or contrived.  And having things in common with another person, is not a guarantee that a relationship should be formed.  Not one person I worked with, actually lives in my town.  I drove 25 miles to get to the office, and everyone lived all over the map, none of them close by.  I know there are websites devoted to bringing couples together, or seminars on how to meet that special person.  But, where is the help in finding a friend?  Where is the local hangout for folks looking for friendship only?  Will I meet her at the dry cleaners, the grocery store, the garden center?  Those are the places I go.

I already have my soulmate, I just want someone to meet for coffee on Saturday afternoons.  Someone who doesn't live 300 miles away. 

MISS GEE

Our old house- I cry every time I see the photos.  Our life was perfect there.

Can't Stop Falling

This is almost my favorite time of the year.  At least it's getting close.  And I am ready for summer to be over with.  I am not a summertime person, and I never have been.  Even growing up on the sandy gulf beaches, I hated summer.  I'm not prissy by any means, but I hate to sweat, I hate bugs, I hate the heat.  I hate summer.  In the summer I rarely want to go anywhere or do anything, if it means going outside.  I know, I have my yard and my flowers, but once I get all of that going in the spring I usually enjoy the views from inside the house.  In the summer, I am lazier than any other time of the year.  I have a tendency to move less and I don't wander too far from the nearest ceiling fan or AC vent.  Every year when summer arrives, I am ready for it to fly by and be gone.  I have heard of SAD- Seasonal Affective Disorder- and I know I suffer from it. Most people get it in the winter- being cooped up inside, growing plumper, shorter periods of daylight.  I get it every summer, and have for almost my entire life.  I've always chalked it up to my aversion to heat, or perhaps I have an aversion to hot weather because I have SAD.  Not sure which is the chicken and which is the egg.  

We had a mild summer this year, for the Deep South.  Very few days that reached the 90 degree mark.  Right now the mornings are cool enough to open up the windows, but just briefly before the humidity creeps in.  It's just a tease.  For me, any day above 60 is too hot!  Yes, I should live in North Dakota or Maine, you are right.  In fact I'm ssssoooooo ready for summer to be over, I've already started bringing up my autumn decorations from the basement and placing them around the house.  J came home last night and said, why is there a giant pumpkin sitting on the hearth?  Right now he's consumed with baseball and golf- sports of summer- and I'm already thinking about what I want to bake for the holidays.  I'm much more active in the colder months, as far as exercise goes, I want to go hike or walk in the neighborhood.  Normally my depression lifts in the winter as well.  I lose more weight, socialize with friends more, and I just feel better about my life and myself when the thermometer drops. Go figure.  At the same time, my spirit is much more calm and content in the winter.  Nothing says settle down and relax for awhile like a good book, a fire, and a cup of cocoa.  Seriously.

But another problem I have in the fall and winter, is restlessness.  Not truly "cabin fever", as in I'm stuck in the house and can't get out.  We get one nice little snowfall here every winter, and that's it.  I get restless because I love the cool weather, the trees turning, the local fall festivals, the holidays.  I want to do and see and take it all in, and I know I can't.  On any given Saturday in the fall, there are 3 or 4 festivals or fairs nearby, and I feel like I want to get to every single one.  This Saturday I'm taking in two, and I'm already mapping out where to go next Saturday.  My restlessness also causes me great frustrations too, and I do get that caged animal sensation, like I just have to go do something.  Most of the time, it's just wanting to be outside in the crisp air and looking up at the immaculate blue sky.  Unlike summer, when I want to blink my eyes and make it go away, I want autumn and winter to get here soon and hang around.  J will walk around a street fair with me, but he doesn't really care about them- he goes because he knows as an artist at heart, I love getting out there to see what other folks are making and thinking up.  I don't rip off people's ideas, but I do get inspired to go back home and create my own art.  And I buy a lot at festivals, too.  :)

My depression has been horrible lately, and the last few weeks I have really been struggling.  Stumbling and Aimless.  I feel as though as soon as I make strides in the right direction, I have a month or so when I slide backwards and can't seem to dig my claws in there to make the descent stop, or at least slow it down a bit.  I land back at the bottom with a thud.  It takes me awhile to pick myself up and start to climb out of that pit again.  Most of the time I've convinced myself that I will never reach the top, no matter how hard I fight or how long I keep fighting.  Hell, I'm nearing 50 and I haven't made it yet, so what makes me think I ever can?  I have a pessimistic nature, and I'm sure that goes hand in hand with depression.  I want to shake it off, and anyone with truly deep depression knows that it's not that easy.  I go to bed every night making a mental list of the things I want to accomplish the next day, and in the reality of that tomorrow I might get one or two checked off.  J told me I make it hard on myself by being too ambitious.  Some days I understand he's right.  Some days I worry he really means, I can't keep up with the normal people so don't even have the hope of trying.  I've never been like this at work, I've just always been this way when it comes to "me".  I've always been the superstar employee at every office, but a total slug outside the walls of my employers.  I don't know why that drive, dedication, energy and pursuit of perfection, does not carry over into my personal life.  It's all "me", so why do I seem to have a split personality?

I've told myself repeatedly over the last week, that as soon as my wrist completely heals, things will be better once the pain subsides.  But since 2006, there has been some piece of my body at all times, that is in chronic pain and has required surgery.  As soon as that area gets better, something else on me breaks down.  I feel as though J has not known me to be in any state other than pain.  Sure I was already beginning to struggle with depression and loads of self-esteem issues when we started dating in 2003.  The years we dated before we married, he only saw me on weekends, and I think the euphoria of being in love carried me along whenever I was with him.  During the week, when I was at home alone, the depression, the general aches and pains, the feelings of doubt consumed me.  But come Friday nights and until I left his company on Sunday evenings, I wore my happiest face for him.  And I wasn't faking, it was real overwhelming joy to be at his side.  Once we were married, I couldn't keep that up 24/7 anymore.  Don't get me wrong, I still feel that sappy love for J, that will never change.  I just have a harder time pushing through the rest of the crap.  I can't smile all the time anymore.  And I apologize to him constantly because of it, which I know annoys him but I feel compelled to do it nonetheless.  It's just been hard these past few weeks, watching him have to come home and do some of the housework, because I was in too much pain to do it.  He tells me, that's what he's here for.  I'm like, to load the dishwasher?  He's often talked about getting someone to come in once or twice a week to do the cleaning, but as sweet as his offer is meant to be, it just makes me feel worse about myself.  As in, I can't keep my own friggin' home clean, how pathetic am I?  Sometimes I feel like J's needy kid, not his wife.  And dammit, I'm older than him!

I am hoping to soon put this summer behind me.  The latest pain that's plagued me since January, and the recovery from the surgery.  The way I am still questioning whether or not I should have quit my job in April (and by the way I just found out my replacement already quit, she hated my boss too).  My floundering about without any sense of direction for my daily existence.  It's very unbecoming, to be my age and at this stage of my life, without knowing what I want to do or where I want to go- and end up.  I want to get over the loneliness and anxieties that all the big changes this year have brought into my world.  I am trying to go against my nature and instead be optimistic.  2013 is winding down.  2014 has just got to be better.  I have just got to be better.

Oh man I'm ready for the next snowstorm.  Bring it on.

MISS GEE

Recovering

Today I literally have all day to get this post done, and that's a good thing, because it will probably take that long.  My surgery was two days ago, and even though I'm wearing the brace I can still use my fingers.  Slowly.  It's not as painful as I expected it to be, and hopefully when I get my stitches out next week, I will start to see improvements.  Right now, I just have to be careful.  It's small things, like remembering to set my coffee cup on the left side of the desk so I don't accidentally pick it up with my right hand.  Doctor's orders are one thing, but natural reflexes are hard to hold down.  So right now, I'm just supposed to be taking it easy.  The surgery was on the tendons attached to my thumb, but I'm not to use my right hand at all except for scratching my nose or petting the cats.  I read online that total recovery can take up to six months.  My doctor told me 2-3 months, so I'm putting my faith in him and not the web.  The surgery was the quickest one I've ever had- I got to the surgical center at ten minutes before noon, got called back before I even sat down, and we were leaving for home shortly after 1pm.  I came out of the anesthesia before they even got me back to my room.  And so far, no pain, just a twinge now and then if I bend my hand the wrong way.

So I have all day to blog (both write and read!) because J has to work late tonight.  It happens once in awhile.  Not an hour late, but late late. It's hard watching him walk out the door before sunrise, knowing he won't be home until close to midnight.  When he kissed me goodbye he said, see you tomorrow, because he knows I will probably be in slumberland by the time he gets back home.  But the 400+ employees that he is over, are scattered over several shifts and a dozen departments.  Occasionally he has to stay during the night shift so he can see those guys, and more than that, be seen.  He usually will take dinner with them, and their dinner break is at 10pm.  Next week he will have another late evening, because he has to go meet with another group of his employees who work out of a satellite location.  The week after that, he will be in Philadelphia for three days for corporate meetings.  I'll be missing him a lot in September it seems. But since I'm not doing much around the house right now anyhow, I guess it's as good a time as any for him to take care of work.

We had a nice trip to New Orleans.  I actually hurt my back several days before we left- one of those old age things.  I leaned over to pick up something off the closet floor and wham!  I pulled a muscle or pinched a nerve, because here it is 2 1/2 weeks later and I'm still shuffling around with a backache.  So we didn't walk about NOLA as much as I had hoped.  Enough to see plenty of sights, but not nearly enough.  There's a lot in that city to take in.  I've been going there all my life, and haven't seen half of it.  But yet it's small enough that when you're there, you don't feel swallowed up.  If you've never been it truly is worth at least one visit.  It really is the Big Easy.  Outdoor cafes and shops, museums, a trolley that for $1.25 will take you from one end of the city to the other, a leisurely ride down the great Mississippi on a paddleboat.  Culture and art and music everywhere.  And oh my god the food!  The city can be whatever you want it to be, and no one there looks at you when you walk down the sidewalk as though you don't belong there.  In New Orleans, they want you there with them!  As far as I'm concerned, if you'd never heard of Hurricane Katrina- you would never know it had happened.  The city is as clean and colorful and alive as it ever was.  J had never been pre-Katrina, so he was surprised on our first visit together a few years ago.  I never tire of visiting there.  Even the most dilapidated building oozes charm.

This past weekend, I was a frenzy of activity, getting the house cleaned up from top to bottom, and prepping a few meals in advance.  I had several custom orders to make from my Etsy shop- including one lady who ordered seven pieces of pottery- and still two more to fill as well.  Unfortunately the things I already have listed are still not selling, but as I said before, I know I'm not going to get rich ten bucks at a time, nor do I plan to even try.  I asked the doctor about getting back to my pottery, and he said it would actually be an excellent therapy to help build my hand strength back up.  Hopefully he will give me the go ahead next week at my follow up appointment.  Anyhow, I just wanted to make sure that I had taken care of everything that I could, so that this week I could set any worries aside and just rest.  J is wonderful about helping with the housework- the man was single for over a decade when I met him so he knows how to clean up after himself.  He swears he has forgotten how to do laundry, but I'm sure I could give him a crash course if need be.

Even amid all the housework for me and extensive yardwork for J, we managed to have our typical fun as well.  Saturday morning we had to go run an errand in the next county over (J has a particular place where he buys all his fertilizer and such), so we stopped in at their farmers market.  It was small but bountiful!  I stopped to look at each and every booth and I thought to myself, wow I could almost do all of our grocery shopping right here, and wouldn't it be so much healthier.  The market was full of the things I expected to see like veggies and fruits and herbs.  And I was delighted to see items like bacon, beef, fish, eggs, milk, butter, cheese.  I found breads, pastas, cakes, cookies, salsa, jams, honey, nuts, pet treats, teas, soaps, flowers, wine, beer, even a locally made coffee. Someone was even selling pottery, and there was a colorful little food truck making crepes for breakfast.  We have a ton of farmers markets in the area, I just don't normally go to them, I am always taken in by that buy one get one free ad from the big chain grocery store instead.  And the farmers market in our town is actually pretty small and we've been disappointed the few times we've gone.  But the next town over is a bit more affluent, yet is not too far to drive to get the freshest and healthiest, wholesome ingredients.  And the farmers market there is right next to the organic grocery store, which we sadly do not have in our little town.  I know the frozen diet dinners are low in calories, but am I really doing my body any favors by digesting all those unpronounceable chemicals?  I asked J, what do you think? Can we meet all our needs at the farmers market?  He said he would leave that decision up to me, but wondered what we will do for our condiments like mayo and ketchup.  Okay, so maybe I would still need to run into the store to grab up a few things.  Pardon me as I stole these photos from their wonderful website.

We took in our favorite auction on Saturday night, where I picked up a few new vintage kitchenware items and a spectacular oil painting of a lighthouse in a beautiful frame that I got for $10 because no one else wanted it.  I got two Longaberger baskets, which I've collected since the early 1980's, for $5 each because no one bid against me on those either.  Even the smallest of these baskets, sell for $45 new and the ones I bought were dated 1987.  The latest item that I've been collecting are old washboards with glass inserts, and I was able to snap up another one for $10.  I've seen these selling on Etsy for $40.  J added to his coin collection, and also bought a box of vintage beer steins, he said with intentions of reselling them online.  We are still mulling over how to start up selling all our vintage finds.  Etsy and eBay are bombarded with folks doing the same, and unless we repurpose the items into something fresh and never before seen, I'm not sure online is the route we want to go.  There are plenty of antique stores and shows around here, but again, everyone else is doing the same thing.  I have a friend who I lunched with last week, and she does this as a side business.  She has a booth set up at an antique mall, but she says she pretty much breaks even every month.  To me, that wouldn't be worth the time and energy.  I wouldn't mind doing a show or festival now and again, at least that's something interactive and a great day spent outdoors.  We'll see, J and I are tossing the idea around for 2014.

But for this week, and for the next day or two, I'm just bumming around the homestead.   We've got a baseball game on Saturday night- looks like our team will make the playoffs this year and J is banking on being able to go to the World Series- but for now I've promised to go with him this weekend as the season is winding down.  I was able to make some pottery this morning- just new beads because I don't have to use my wrist or thumb- all I do there is gently roll the clay around in the palm of my hand. But I'm going to keep at it, and eventually I know they will start selling.  I already have the clay, the glaze, the kiln, and the time.  It doesn't cost anything but the nominal listing fee on Etsy.  I do confess that since we returned from our trip, I've been tearing through paperbacks pretty quickly.  I think I've read four since last week, and will probably finish another one today.  I will read just about anything, but I have a strong preference for non-fiction.  History, biographies, true crime.  Truth really is stranger- and vastly more interesting- than fiction.  I "inherited" several boxes of paperbacks from J's grandmother before she passed away, but she read light romances.  She made me promise her I would read them, that I just wouldn't haul them off for trade at the used bookstore.  So they are sitting amid my collection in the basement, and eventually- when I have nothing else to read- I will get around to Granny's Danielle Steel and Debbie Macomber books.  Who can callously go back on a promise made to a dying grandmother!

I've been spending the last few days in my favorite spot, the chair in the corner of our bedroom.  It huddles next to a window overlooking our backyard.  After J brought me home from my surgery, I asked him to please fill all the feeders and put out fresh water for the animals.  Sunflowers and seeds for the birds, corn and peanuts for the squirrels.  I littered the yard with old bread.  Sitting in my chair I can see most of the feeders.  I can see the two scraggly "trees", really just overgrown bushes that J mows around.  It gives the birds someplace quick to dart off to, after they steal a seed or two from the feeder.  Soon it will be cool enough that I can actually open the windows and feel the breezes and become engulfed in the nonstop birdsong.  But even so, with the windows closed, I can hear the unmistakable chatter of the chickadees and the caw caw of the crows.  Yesterday I sat and watched as the big black birds chased away our neighborhood red-tailed hawk.  We have dozens of species of birds in our area, some seasonal, some taking up residence in one of the many birdhouses we have all over our property.  Nothing is as sweet as watching a baby bluebird poke its head out, waiting for mom or dad to return with a snack.  But we also see plenty of deer, raccoons, possums, armadillos, bats, foxes, coyotes, owls, turkeys, rabbits, chipmunks, wood rats and mice.  Not to mention the non-fuzzy fellows in my flower gardens like snakes, giant frogs, skinks, gorgeous bees, turtles, dragonflies, and more types of spiders and butterflies than I can keep count of.  You name it, they are in our little backyard habitat.  We welcome them all.  And it's always an "oh my gosh come and look!" moment for us.

But there's also something magical about that old chair in the corner.  Whenever I sit down in it, whether to read or just watch the suburban nature show for awhile, the cats seem to always find me.  They can be sound asleep upstairs, but let my butt touch that chair cushion and here they come.  All of them.  I've had as many as three at one time in the chair with me.  One behind my head, one in my lap or on the armrest, and one on the ottoman draped over my feet.  There is always a fourth one left to sit on the floor and look up at me, trying to figure out where he can squeeze in too.  I'm not sure I would want to stay home if it weren't for the company of our feline family.  And frankly, I don't trust people who don't have pets.  I don't mean my awful neighbors who keep their two pitbulls on short chains behind their house, I want to kill those people (I'm afraid to complain to the authorities because I worry they would put the dogs down simply because they are pits, but they are friendly pups).  I mean, people who just don't have any kind of affinity for animals- or reptiles- at all.  It's something I don't understand.  I don't think mankind was meant to live separate from the rest of nature.  I'm all for the urban uptown condo bike to the coffee house lifestyle, but there should be at least one fat fluffy cat or yappy terrier in that highrise home.  Even J, when I met him, a big gruff single guy in his 30's managing a warehouse of other men- came home to his sweet kitty every day.  She was all he had, the one who cuddled with him on the couch to watch TV, the one who greeted him at the door after a long rough day.  I can't imagine not having pets, even if it is just a tank full of bright and happy fish.

Is there anything more wonderful in life, than a wagging tail or a soft meow?  I think not.

MISS GEE