Giving Support

As much as I loathe my ex, I love and adore and cherish J a million times more.  But he is a better man by those millions.  Sometimes having such a strong, devoted, caring, selfless husband means I can't help him when HE needs it.  We are facing that crisis right now, although he would deny there is an issue.  J is struggling in the same way that I was- no balance in his daily existence- all work and no home life.   He is not taking care of his health at all.  He says he doesn't have time for a doctor's appointment to get his prescriptions refilled- the same excuse I had, the one that landed me in the hospital.   He is leaving the house at 6:30AM and getting home at 8PM.  Skipping lunch because he doesn't have time.  Reading emails in bed before he even gets up for a shower.  And in between he is doing his job and in many cases the projects he should delegate to others.

Of course I was working those same hours along with him.  The company is making cuts in personnel and pushing the rest of the loyal souls as hard as they can, and every day they expect even more.  Especially from the salaried folks like my husband.  At least I made extra money for my long hours, in overtime pay. This past year, they even cut J's bonus potential down to half, that was his reward and what he worked so hard for.  And I know that's the American way these days. Most people don't even get a bonus at all.  As hard as he works, he is one man who absolutely deserves his bonus.  J may be upper management, but he started off at the very bottom 16 years ago, and he does not ever forget that.  He is as likely to roll up his sleeves and do the real physical work, as he is to sit and waste his time on a boring conference call in his office.

I am not here to gripe about how every year, others go on the company's vacation trip or cruise for executives, while J has never been anywhere on the company dime unless it was for meetings.  I am here to say how disappointed I am for my ever-dedicated husband, that he has to do so much hard work and give up so much at home, but doesn't get to play on that same game field as some others.  And how very hard that fact is on him, and how hard it is on me to watch it and not be able to offer any solutions or options for him.  I would do absolutely anything in my power for that man, I love him without reservations or limits.

I don't blame any one person for my husband's stressful job because I know at the end of the day, most everyone there is just as stressed out as J is.  But I see how it is tearing down my husband so that makes me mad and defensive.  And yes, biased. J has always had fire and passion about his job, about the company. That is, until last year when he was passed over for another promotion, once again in favor of someone from outside the company.  Ever since then, J can barely tolerate his job and the company.  To say he is still bitter, is an understatement.  To say he now feels trapped, is putting it mildly.  Most mornings J does not even want to get up, and he's never been like that before.  Recently, it's getting worse.  This morning he said if he was lucky, he would die and wouldn't have to go back.  Those are the kinds of things I was saying, before I quit working there.

I blame the entire company.  They have a slave master mentality, everything they do is for the bottom dollar.  And they are not sharing it with anyone else but the investors. Certainly not the people who are actually creating the profits.  Once, when we were owned by another entity, the company had a family atmosphere and it was a generous place where everyone loved to work.  Now with our new owners entrenched, long time employees are running out the door as fast as they can. Again, I am digressing into a rant against the company, but right now they are my enemy because they are changing my husband into someone I barely recognize anymore.  It's to the point, I don't care about the great salary- that money isn't making a difference when J can't even smile anymore.  And right now, I desperately want J to quit working there, the sooner the better.  But it won't happen.

As many times as I've encouraged J to go look for a job at another company, he says he can't.  And that is where I feel helpless.  He makes enough money that he was able to support me leaving, but it doesn't work the other way around.  He can't just quit.  And the company has dangled enough carrots in front of all their donkeys- stock options, etc.- that he feels like he has to stick around.  When his bonus got cut this year, they exchanged the annual payout for a future incentive bonus, but one he won't get for another 4-5 years.  The stock options he's been accumulating, are "ghost" stocks because our company is privately held- they are useless and have no value unless we become publicly traded.  And J will get to benefit from this crap, these worthless promises of potential money, only if he stays with the company for several more years.  If he left now, he would lose it all.  I said, what would you lose, you don't "have" anything. You get a paycheck, that is it.  All jobs give out paychecks.  What else can this company do for its dedicated employees, to keep them from going to the competitor, to keep them from looking for more lucrative employment?  The days of promising "future" money is something from another generation- good workers need to be rewarded now.  Still, J looks at all of this as our retirement.  Potential retirement, since none of those stock options may ever be worth one single cent.

It pains me so deeply, that I can't take care of my husband in a way that would allow him to step back from the stress.  That was his sacrifice for me, so that I could get away from it.  He tells me, everything he does, is for me and all he wants out of life is my health and happiness.  It makes my heart swell with love for this man, but makes it break with sadness at the same time.  He can't escape the burden, because he has to continue on in order for me to stay home and get my health back.  In the meantime, I watch his health- both physical and emotional- suffer even more.  And I feel powerless.  I've thought about going out to get another job, but he said no, not yet. And even if I did, it wouldn't matter, this isn't about me having a salary or not.  He wouldn't leave the company, and he can't back off from the grueling hours and all his duties as long as he stays there.  He said his plan is to stick it out there until he is 50, and that's almost four more years.  I am not sure he can last that long, but I know J, and I know he will continue to push himself every day, to get in there, to do what he gets paid to do and more, to handle whatever tasks he is given.

I want to rescue my husband.  I want him to be around for our old age together, and the way things are going, I am not sure J will be alive in 10-20 years from now.  His blood sugar, his cholesterol, his blood pressure, his weight.  Thankfully he quit smoking, and drinks only rarely.  But, the stress is eating him alive, and that's as dangerous as any pack of Camels.  What is the point of me getting healthy again, if he is not going to be there with me?  I don't want to live without him.

MISS GEE

Hallmark Memories

I divorced my first husband over a coffee cup.  Well, basically.

The coffee cup, which I still have and use today, was just a symbol of all the reasons I divorced him.  But, it remains a strong memory for me, and a lesson learned.  It was just a plain coffee cup, one I bought at a Hallmark store back before W and I were even married.  It came with a matching mug mat and two cookie cutters.  I bought it because it was cute, and decorated in Fall colors, which I can't resist.  I'm not a huge coffee drinker,  normally one large mug every morning. Sometimes two in the winter.  W and I had a cabinet shelf filled with coffee cups- ones we bought as souvenirs, ones family members had given as gifts, holiday mugs, the small and useless cups that come with a set of dishes.  But, this cup was my favorite, the one I used every day.  In fact, it was the only one I ever used.  Most normal people would recognize that and respect it.  But not W.  If W got into the kitchen before I did, he would invariably grab this cup, instead of picking one of the dozen other cups sitting right there.

I would ask him repeatedly, please don't use this one coffee cup, this is the one I always use, there were plenty of others for him to choose from.  But a few days later, as I would go to get my morning coffee, I would find he had already absconded with my mug.  At first I thought he was just careless about his choice, insensitive at the most.  Then one day it dawned on me- this was a power struggle.  This was a way of him showing his control over me.  He was 100% purposefully using the one coffee cup I asked him not to use.  Finally, he started telling me I was a selfish bitch for not letting him use this particular cup.  I told him he was being an asshole for not using any of the other ones.  One day, after he had poured his coffee into the cup, I can remember grabbing it off the counter angrily, dumping out the contents, and taking it away from him.  I am still shocked that this little cup never got broken over the years of our arguing over it.

I think I had been with W for at least 10 years before I realized everything he did, everything he said, was some form of control over me.  I was used to the put downs and name calling, the insults that made me feel as worthless as dirt.  I had accepted the fact that I'd given up all the things that had made me happy and whole as a single girl- like my writing and my art- all for him.  I was uncomfortable with his insistence that he did not want my family visiting, but I ignored him on that issue, and it caused huge fights.  There were weekends where my parents would come just for a lunch out on a Sunday, and he would leave the house so he didn't have to spend time with them.  I would lie to cover for his absence and my embarrassment- he had to work, he had to help a friend with a project. As much as he hated spending time with my parents, he hated seeing his own even more.  When we moved two states away, and would go back home for a visit, he wouldn't even let his parents know he was in town because they "will want to see me", he always said.  Eventually, going home was a journey of one- me alone on a jet plane because he said he never wanted to go back there again.  I guess he thought if HE wasn't going to go back home, I wouldn't either, but I had no qualms about vacationing without him.

The classic signs of control were always there- insulting me and crushing my self-esteem, making me feel as though I was lucky that at least he wanted to be with me, trying to alienate me from friends and family, completely ignoring me sexually, not ever depositing his paycheck into our bank account (instead he would "give" me a little cash to pay the bills with- in all those years I never once saw a check or even knew what he made), always insisting that everything was always my fault, telling me how stupid I was.  And I can't believe I fell for it, or allowed it to happen for so long.  I know, there are no victims only volunteers, right?  I am still trying to recover from the pummeling my self-esteem took over a decade ago.  I still have trouble believing I am good enough, or smart, or pretty.  That I'm not lazy, not undeserving, not unlovable.  And sadly, J has to suffer for what W put me through.  He doesn't understand why I haven't let it all go by this point in my life, why I haven't gotten over it.  I fear that how W treated me in my 20's, is still defining who I am in my 40's.  J is a polar opposite of W in every way possible, but I am still me, and I still have some of those troubling thoughts in my head, about how I view myself and how I think others view me.

I think that's one reason I'm struggling right now with my unemployment, even though it was by choice.  By not working, by not bringing home a paycheck, I am starting to float on a sense of worthlessness again.  I have no purpose, I serve no purpose, what is the meaning of my daily existence?  J would be incredibly hurt to hear me talk about myself like that, so I keep those thoughts buried.  I don't know what it's going to take, for me to be at peace with who I am and what I do. With my decision to quit my job.  Our decision.  J's support and understanding is the only comfort I find in it all.  I still go to bed at night, thinking about what reports I need to run in the morning, what vendors I need to work out a contract with for a certain customer.  It's silly I know.

Funny, I started off this post about how W used to control me and dictate how I felt about myself, and I've gotten terribly off track. Maybe that is all still part of it now, and maybe not.  I don't know why I even waste a single thought about a man I haven't seen in 8 years, who fills me with disgust and shame, but he pops up in my head all too regularly.  I feel as though I haven't yet overcome that part of my life, I haven't moved on mentally.  Maybe I've always had self-esteem issues and just didn't realize it until W so blatantly smacked me in the face with it.  J does everything in his power to keep my chin up, keep me going, take interest in my plans and hopes, support my desires.  Make me feel desired.  But some days it's just not enough- what he gives me externally doesn't penetrate the loathing I feel for myself on the inside.  I try not to let him see that though, I'm good at smiling at him and letting him know how much I love him for all that he does.

J and I have our own coffee cup collection that represents our travels together, but my cherished little Autumn leaf cup is still there, front and center.  Some days I use it, some days I don't- I just grab a mug.  If J happens to pull it off the shelf for his Sunday morning cup while we read the paper together, I don't even give it any thought.  It's no longer "my" coffee cup- it's ours.

MISS GEE

Where To?

I was going to post about something different today, but I just finished reading an article in the paper that sparked my interest.  And yes, we still get the actual paper delivered to our house every day, I know we are old-fashioned.  I have to walk down the driveway and bring it into the house!

I read a story about a grown woman who, 11 years ago, voluntarily got into a car with strangers and ran away- from her husband, her children, her life.  She ended up in Key West and barely scraped by, until the other day when she walked into the police department to turn herself in.  For what, I'm not sure- the article didn't mention she had broken any laws.  But she had been declared legally dead already, the police had even suspected her husband of killing her.  Her husband says he does not want to see or speak to her, the daughter says she hopes her mom rots in hell.  The article opined, haven't we all wanted to run away at one time or another?  I say yes, and what is so bad about that? I know fundamentally it's wrong to suddenly abandon your family and let them think you are dead, but the idea of just needing a break some days is part of us all.  Even though 99% of us don't act on it in such a drastic fashion.

We need breaks from our normal routine and life occasionally.  That's why we get vacation time at work, and why we live for the weekends.  It's why we take cruises or fly across the ocean, or drive down to Mexico for the day.  It's the reason Walt Disney built the Magic Kingdom, and why George Lucas put Star Wars on the big screen.  It's why we celebrate St Paddy's Day even though we aren't Irish. Our brains, our hearts, our bodies need to get away- for a week, a day, a few hours.  Even people who love each other beyond reason, can't spend 24 hours and 7 days a week with that person.  I couldn't be with J that much, and I wouldn't expect him to want to be with me like that either.  Even when we go on vacation together, we have pockets of alone time here and there.  He wants to go to the casino and I don't want to hang over his shoulder.  I want to go walk on the beach with just my thoughts and no one else to talk to.

During my first marriage I would run away, when W and I were fighting.  Sometimes I would just go to my parents' house for a few days.  Later on I actually got a hotel room a few times.  Some days, I would just disappear for the day and come home late that night, after shopping and eating out and a great movie- by myself.  W never cared.  And the fact that I was doing this to prove a point to him- that I was unhappy or mad- was not lost on him.  Most of the time, he wouldn't even bother to call me to find out where I was or if I was okay, and many times I would come home to find him asleep without a single concern or worry.  I would be irrational- how dare he not call to check on me!- when after all I wanted to just be left alone.  But, that was just my immaturity, thinking that by me coming home at midnight on a Friday it would somehow make W spontaneously change into a better husband.  He didn't give a damn.

I would never do that now, simply because J and I don't have that kind of relationship- we can talk about absolutely anything, and there is nothing in my marriage that I would want to escape from anyhow.  But, I do have that "running away" fantasy from time to time.  I just don't know where I would go and what I would do.  Everyone would know where I was at, I'd have to use my credit card.  Like an episode of CSI, I could easily be tracked and caught.  Hey boss, someone just used her Visa at the Target in New Orleans ten minutes ago, let's go canvas the area.  Frankly, I have travelled a lot over the years, to other countries and across the US, but I have never travelled alone.  I am not sure I would be able to manage very well.  But travel and truly escaping are two different things.  The running away fantasy of leaving everything and everyone behind, and starting a new life, is not like going to the spa for the weekend.

I am trying to view my time at home now as my escape from my old life of stress and a demanding sales team, and an unforgiving boss.  That's what many of us want to run away from anyhow- our jobs.  I also know that staying at home- the drudgery of housework and grocery shopping and pulling weeds- can become a thankless routine that grows into a life that many women wish they could trade.  My fantasy escape was always to run away and find a colony of artists- up in the green lush mountains, or out in the vast deserts of the West- so I could make and live off my art full time.  I've been given that opportunity now, but it's here, at home and in this crummy little town we live in.  It's my fantasy "life" now, to make art- just not the fantasy "where" part.  Right now, I've got to take that and run with it. I've been away from the job for almost two weeks now, and I've yet to break out a single paintbrush or brick of clay.  What's up with that?  J comes home every day to ask me, did you make any pottery today?  I rattle off the list of chores and errands that I did accomplish, but have to admit that I did not work on anything remotely artistic.  Sigh.  Escaping doesn't have to mean needing to drive a few thousand miles away- right now I can't even get myself to escape upstairs to make a sketch.  It's twenty steps away.  Why do I think I would do better living remotely up in the hill country?

Like the lady in the article, Key West would be a dream destination, it's certainly a tropical enclave of funky artists.  But not alone.  J and I got married on the beach in Key West, and we plan to go back shortly for our ten year anniversary.  If I had to run away to Key West, it would only be with him.  And yes, we'd have to eventually come back home.

MISS GEE

Suburban Habitats

When we first moved to our house, I wasn't super in love with it.  We bought this particular house for one reason only- the tall ceilings in the living room, so our Christmas tree would fit.  Yep, really.  Have you ever watched House Hunters on HGTV?  Our episode went like this- open front door, walk in, look up at the ceiling height and say "the tree won't fit", then leave.  Plus J wanted a basement, and although most homes in this area have basements, this one was the largest.  We bought right before the market crashed, although just barely.  The developer of our subdivision was going under, ours was the last house they built before they fell off the map, and they were anxious to unload it.  We were able to negotiate a few free upgrades- like granite countertops in the kitchen and stacked stone for the fireplace- and still got the house for a good price for 2008.  Of course now the house is worth $70,000 less than what we paid for it, yet we bought it for $70,000 less than its original asking price when it was first built.  Our subdivision ended up with 50 empty lots- two directly across the street from us- when the builder filed for bankruptcy.

Inside the house we've made only minor updates- ceiling fans and light fixtures- so for the most part the house is the same as when we bought it brand new. Everything is white and pale- white walls, ceilings, molding, light beige carpets.  Not my favorite.  I've referred to our house as a giant ice cave.  For a long time, we both regretted buying this house, J because of the loss in value, me because it can be very isolating here.  In hindsight, I would have given up the Christmas tree and purchased an older home with warm colors and charming character, in an established neighborhood not so far out in the country.  Just like our 20+ year old home we sold when we moved here.

But outside it's a different story.  Because we are in the country, we all have septic tanks instead of city sewer services.  And apparently there is some sort of minimum requirement here for lot sizes to accommodate septic tanks.  Hence all the lots in our neighborhood are almost 2 acres.  We are fortunate to be on a quiet cul-de-sac towards the back of the subdivision.  And beyond our subdivision there is nothing and more nothing as far as the eye can see.  The neighbor behind us has 8 acres and we have a mini-forest between us- and I can't see their home at all.  The space between houses here is priceless, and it's the one thing I wouldn't change. Although we have houses on either side of us, one house is way up the hill and the other, way down.  And we are busy planting more trees as buffers on both sides.  I don't live in the mountains, but sitting on my back deck and looking out across the endless miles of trees and hills, you would think we were up in the Blue Ridges.  When we first moved here, I felt as though this isolated me even more, because this is not the type of subdivision where you can get to know your neighbors- even if we are out working in our yards at the same time, we are so far apart you can barely hear each other shout hello.

We've met our neighbors at least once or twice, but have nothing in common with any of them.  The family up the hill consists of a very elderly couple who live with their grown son and his boyfriend.  The family down the hill are renters with older teenage children who are out of school but apparently don't work or have plans to move out any time soon.  Down the road are mostly younger couples with small children.  Most of the wives on my street don't work and are all at home during the day, but they all have kids too.  I see their garage doors open and cars in the driveways, but I never actually see any of them out in their yards.  So I assume they are busy in the house all day with laundry and vacuuming and cutting coupons and defrosting chicken for dinner- just like I am now.  I tried once to socialize with them, one night at their large monthly gathering where they drank a lot of wine, griped about husbands and schools and gossiped about people they all knew, and where they played Bunco which I thought was the most inane pastime I've ever seen.  That was my one and only get together with the neighborhood wives.  I couldn't wait to escape back over to my own sanctuary.

As much as I love going into the Big City on the weekends, I know I'm not cut out to live there on an every day basis.  I would like to think of myself as being hip and chic enough for the urban lifestyle of walking to the coffee house or Trader Joe's, or taking the train to the art museum, and I love to do those things on a Saturday- after we make the long 30 minute interstate drive to get to the city in the first place.  But the truth is on most days I would rather soak up the peace and fresh air of the woods behind my house, listen to the bird song, watch the squirrels and rabbits running around, enjoy the deer grazing along my property line, and be thankful for it.

MISS GEE

(The evening view from my back deck.)

Settling In

I am trying to settle in to my new domesticated life of hanging around the house, much like my lovable kitty-kids.  So far, so good I suppose.  I want to have the perfect balance of relaxing (reading), staying busy (pottery, gardening), and doing the tasks I have to do (cleaning, exercise)- all without getting stressed out.  I am trying to release the guilty feelings of choosing not to work for a regular paycheck.  I'll be 47 this year, who's to say that I'm too young to retire?  Who's to say that I can't be a full-time artist, and why do I even need a label on me at all?  I want my life- and my feelings about my life- to revolve around who I am, not what I do.  And yes, I can say these things because I have a husband who makes enough money for us both.  I don't take this for granted, and I also understand that circumstances could force me back into the workplace sooner than I would want.  But, it's Week One of my New Life, so I don't want to get too philosophical, or start fretting over what may or may not happen in the future.

My mornings have been slow as one of my new medications that I take in the AM, makes me extremely woozy, and I hope this is a temporary side effect that will fade.  I am keeping my same schedule, as far as getting up at 5am every day.  Not only do I want to spend the time with J before he goes to work, I also want to be ready for bedtime with him in the evenings- normally 10pm. I could easily stay up until after midnight reading every night and sleep in until lunch, but I want to stay in sync with J's sleeping patterns- and I'm also not a teenager!  Tuesday and Wednesday I was out of the house for most of the day, running errands in town and going to appointments.  Going into town is a big deal, as we live out in the country, so I plan to keep my city errands organized to one day a week.  Saving on gas- since I won't have a 50 mile round trip commute to work every day in my old SUV- is on the list of our "new" single-income budget. 

Getting into a regular routine will be the most difficult part for me, especially on the days where I won't be leaving the house the entire day.  I've been making daily to-do lists, to give me focus during the endless hours alone, but that almost seems juvenile.  Why do I need a sticky note on my kitchen counter to remind me to mop the bathroom today?  I've worked outside the home for 30 years, give or take a few months here and there, so staying home is a new frontier but I hardly think I actually need to write down my chores.  I have been cleaning up and organizing the "art studio", it's just been a dumping ground for awhile now. It's been at least a month or more since I made a new piece of pottery.  My goal right now is to have enough pieces ready to list on Etsy by mid-June.  I have an upcoming week away at a cabin on a lake with J and some of his family.  Then my parents will come to stay with us for a whole week- which is awesome because usually they can only visit on a weekend since I've always worked.  Then when they leave, I'm riding back with them to spend a week in my hometown on the beach.  J will come down the following weekend to pick me up.  That all gets me back here the second week of June.  I've decided it's pointless to list anything to sell at this time, since I won't be home to mail it.  No sense in starting off my Etsy career as that person who gets negative reviews for slow shipments.

When we moved here in December 2008, I didn't work for several months- until I landed the job I just left.  During that time period I suffered from deep depression- almost suicidal on some days- because I was in horrible, miserable physical pain and stayed jacked up on a regular regimen of prescription painkillers.  I had days where I couldn't move, but even sitting still on the couch in front of the idiot box, was more pain than I could handle.  Physical, mental, emotional- I called it my dark pit.  2009 was year four of chronic pain, and contemplating even one more day of it, seemed like too much of a burden.  I hated life at that point.  J remembers that time, and he remembers how he would come home after a long hard day at work and the house was a mess, I was a mess, and I couldn't even cook dinner for him.  But thank the stars those days are over.  After countless doctors, pills, medical procedures that never helped, one specialist finally suggested massage and even sent me to someone in particular.  Let me just say that, despite years of the best efforts of traditional medicine, the massage therapy cured me of all the pain within a few visits.  I still go once every 4-6 weeks, as I get a bit achy now and then.  It was my salvation.  I am a different person now, 99% pain free, and I know I won't go back to that black hole of misery at home this time around.

I admit I still can't spend hours working in the garden without paying a price later in the evening, but I toss that up to my age and being physically out of shape. I've spent the last few years sitting motionless at a desk or in my car for the majority of my waking hours.  I understand that, taking care of a house and yard and ME, requires me to stay off my ass as much as possible.  And sometimes, things happen that are out of my control, and I've got to just let it roll off my back. Today I had planned to work in the yard, but it's turned out to be a very cold, cloudy, blustery day and so I gave myself permission to stay inside instead.  I don't have a boss to answer to anymore, and I don't have deadlines hanging over my head waiting to crush me.  And yes, I wrote down "work in flower bed" on my Thursday to-do list.  But if I don't do it, who cares!  No one even knows what my plans were for today, so no one is there to fuss or judge me if I never get around to it.  If I decide to dust shelves today instead, then that is what I will do.  If I decide to sit down for an hour and read a cookbook, that's what I'll do.  If I don't get back out into the yard to work until Sunday, well, so what?

If I don't get to a single thing that I wrote down on my list of goals for today, then that's the way it will be.  And I'm really working on being "okay" with that.  My new motto- no stress, no guilt.

MISS GEE