Gone from our lives, but always in our hearts. We still miss you.
MISS GEE
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
One Is Not A Lonely Number
I am trying to be happy today, because the vacation countdown is officially less than a month now. All the arrangements have been made, and J has tasked me with getting online and finding fun things to do while we are there. From the photo above you'd never guess our big splurge vacation this year is to Canada! I don't much care where we go these days, I just look forward to the uninterrupted time I spend with my husband. I don't get that at home. I can kiss weeknights off, because J gets home in time to eat dinner, pay bills online, and fall asleep on the couch. Weekends we spend together, but it's most always taking care of household errands- the garden center for mulch, running the vehicles through the car wash, looking at new down spouts for the gutters, going from store to store to price BBQ smokers. That sort of stuff.
And although I'm "with" him, I definitely don't have his undivided attention. His mind is usually concentrating on things like how many bags of fertilizer he'll need to cover the yard or looking out for who has the cheapest gas. Not to say that we don't ever do anything fun on the weekends. We love flea markets and antique stores and auctions, we go to odd but interesting places like railroad museums or wild bird sanctuaries or civil rights monuments. Things others would find weird or unworthy of their precious Saturday afternoon, I'm sure. And things I wouldn't do alone. But with J, even something like a behind the scenes tour of a local TV news studio turns out to be more enjoyable than I could have ever expected. We prefer to steer clear of the chain restaurants and seek out local eateries on back roads or side alleys. We like quirky. Together. And it's always an adventure for us, no matter what we're doing or where we're at.
Now that I'm staying home all day, J worries about me not having a social life. I, however, do not worry about this. Going to work every day at a job I hated, around people I barely tolerated for years, is not a social life anyhow, so what exactly did I "lose" there?? The only socializing I did at work, was going out to lunch once or twice a week with J. Most of the hobbies I have, are best left as solo ventures. Writing, reading, pottery, painting, gardening. Sure, I could go to one of the local "art party" places and pay money to sit in a room with other people I don't know and paint a landscape. But why would I, when I have my own comfortable space here, all my own supplies, and the peace and quiet I prefer. And I don't drink alcohol at all, so anything revolving around wine or cocktails holds zero interest for me. I find that a lot of those "social" situations like painting parties or girls' night bunco tournaments, are not so much about being around people- it's more about getting away from the other people you already spend day in and day out with. For me that's J, and rarely do I ever want to be away from him, and I wouldn't exchange an evening with him for all the free hors d'oeuvres in the world.
If I want to go to the nursery and look at flowers, if I want to stroll at the farmers market, if I want to go have a fresh salad and bread at the bakery- I don't need company and I am perfectly content to do these things by myself. I know people who would rather die than go out to eat at a restaurant alone. Seriously? I don't understand why. Embarrassment at being seen alone? Just being uncomfortable with your own company in a public environment? I know people who wouldn't even go to a gym alone, they have to have someone else on the equipment beside them to talk to.
Before we moved here, I did have a few very good and close girlfriends. Even so, we only got together occasionally for dinner or Saturday morning coffee. Just to sit and chit chat. I like that, I like sitting and talking with someone without distractions or commotion. But activities? Not so much. Once not long ago, I tried spending the afternoon out shopping with a friend, and I wasn't too into it. With J it's different, we can look at something and say, wow wouldn't this look great in the living room, should we get it? With someone who is just an acquaintance, activities together just don't hit all the right buttons like it does with J. J has talked about taking family vacations, as in, a cruise with our parents. Never! Even when I spend the holidays in a cabin with family, I am ready to escape by day three. He somehow thinks a cruise would be more enjoyable for me, if I had my mom there- really? My favorite thing to do on a cruise is sit on the balcony and read- how does having my parents there enhance that situation? So, I've more than once put the kibosh on a family vacation.
I do like dinner out with another couple once every so often, and I don't mind if J invites his best buddy to meet us for lunch in the city, again just occasionally. I do not want other people around us every single time we walk out the door. And I don't need other people around me all the time. There is a huge difference in being alone and being lonely. I am alone all day long now, and I am fine with it, and it's been wonderful. But at work, surrounded by people for 12 hours a day, I was incredibly lonely because it was the type of place where everyone kept their heads down and stayed inside their little cubicles, and people rarely spoke to one another. That was the essence of loneliness, and day after day, year after year of it. But although I like being alone during the day now, I'm sure I would not want it for the next ten years, and when I'm tired of being home by myself I will know it's time to go get another job. But, not because I'm "lonely" at home.
I know people who have a social calendar that is filled, and I'm thinking about my sister here. Dinner parties and cook outs and kids' play dates and family gatherings and business luncheons and community organizations. Always with someone, never a moment alone. Always on the phone, always texting. These are the people who say they never have a minute to themselves, they never get to do what they want to do, they never have a second of peace. They pay lots of money to go to the spa just to sit for an hour or two in a quiet atmosphere, alone, to do something "nice" for themselves. Sometimes people choose the chaos in their lives. They say yes to another BBQ at a neighbor's house on Saturday, when what they really want to do is sit by their own pool and read a magazine alone. Every year for Mother's Day, my sister's gift from her husband is- he gets up early and takes the kids off for the entire entire day, so my sister can be alone. That is what she wants, the gift of being alone for awhile. And maybe this is all easy for me to say because I don't have children.
I don't think I'm weird or antisocial for preferring to be by myself during the day! Am I??
MISS GEE
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Doing What You Do
Today has been a "good" day, so I thought I would blog while I was in a rare positive mood. The day started off with an 8AM mammogram, which I had been putting off for over two years because I was too busy. Yes, that's a crappy excuse. It took ten minutes. I've been getting mammograms since I was 35, because my mom is a breast cancer survivor and of course I worry about my likelihood of getting it as well. Mammograms do not hurt, I don't care what anyone says, so please don't let that scare you away from them if you are at that age. Two seconds of discomfort, in exchange for peace of mind, is a small price to pay.
As soon as I got home, I unloaded my kiln which was full of all the jewelry pieces I've been making over the last two weeks. Just in the bisque stage now, but I think glazing is always the most fun part anyhow. I am anxious to see how everything will turn out, especially the buttons and beads. I've seen so many great handmade ceramic buttons selling on Etsy. I had been thinking about making buttons and beads for a long time, so when I saw lots of them on Etsy, I was very encouraged to know there is a market out there for them. I don't sew, just a little cross-stitch here and there, but I know a one of a kind handmade button should appeal to someone out there for their projects. And with my very very small kiln, that is what I'm going to concentrate on for the time being. I will still make my tiles and small dishes, but the buttons and beads have been so much fun.
I spent the remainder of the morning working in the yard, and that is a huge effort for me. I planted eight perennials in our newest flower beds- they've been sitting around in pots and since it's rained the last few days and the ground was super soft, I took advantage of this cloudy morning to get digging. It's a bit of a strain for me, since I have to wear my wrist brace whenever I work in the garden. Even so, I would have to come inside and rest after every other plant. I was planning on scheduling my wrist surgery soon, but the other day my doctor revealed the outcome of my latest round of blood tests from last week, and some of the numbers were not good at all. She recommended postponing the surgery until I can get some of these numbers to come down. She said surgery at this time- even a minor one- would be too great of a risk. So alas, I will have to deal with the debilitating pain in my right hand for awhile longer. Most days I can down a few Motrin and keep going with the brace on. Some days, that's not enough, and the pain stops me in my tracks.
I am finding that I still struggle with grading myself and my moods, on what I did or didn't "DO" on any given day. It's ridiculous and I want very much to stop this behavior, because it's digging away at me, and at how I feel about myself and my overall life. Or rather, this newest phase of my life. Today I label this a good day, because I was productive and had somewhat good energy, because I finally planted the flowers that have been sitting around outside for a few weeks now, because I filled a box with fired pottery as solid proof that I am indeed working on it, because I've already marinated the meat for dinner and chopped up all the veggies I will roast in the oven tonight. All because I wanted to.
Yesterday was an unhappy day. Although I did all my housework- wiped down bathrooms, washed all the clothes, cleaned all the cat litter boxes, vacuumed the entire house, took out all the garbage- I did it all very slowly and with little energy. It took me the whole day just to do those few things. I judge myself cruelly because it would have taken a normal woman 2-3 hours to accomplish all of that, and then she would have moved on to something else more important or enjoyable. My "enjoyment" never came yesterday. I was tired, achy, and down, and I never had the time or stamina to do anything but the housework. True, I took many many breaks during the day, where I barely had the energy to read a magazine. But it was one of those days where I could not keep going for more than 15-20 minute stretches before I was in pain and somewhat exhausted.
Monday, to me, my day was completely miserable and I spent the day hating myself and hating my life. All because I woke up not feeling well. I didn't even get up with J to see him off to work, I physically couldn't push myself to do it. I slept late, then just stayed in bed watching TV until late in the day, when it was with tremendous effort that I simply got up to shower and get ready to make dinner. I don't have many days that are that bad, but I don't even cut myself any slack when I do. I still feel like I have this timetable hanging over my head, where I must achieve goals or produce work in order to justify my staying at home full time. Of course that's ridiculous, and no one has those expectations but me.
I don't know why I can't simply tell myself, stop for a minute. Today I am going to sit in my favorite chair and finish the paperback I've been reading, and that evening I will say wow, I had a wonderful relaxing positive good day today. Even if reading was the only thing I did for the entire day. Who do I have to answer to for that? No one. No one is going to say, you are fired! You suck as a human being because you decided to read instead of scrub all the baseboards today. Why can't I be okay with a day here and there where I don't accomplish anything that is task-oriented. The only thing J stipulated in our agreement for me to quit my job, was that I work on improving my health, and by that he meant not only physical but mental and emotional as well. I do not have to be physically on my feet and moving every minute from the time I wake up until the time I go to bed, I do not work for a corporation anymore.
I know I am going to have low days, where my medication makes me feel sick, or my pain slows my movements down to a crawl, where I have a crippling migraine and I can't function, and I know my moods may not always be spectacularly happy. But I don't want to continue to criticize myself so damn harshly on those days, when I don't do a lot. I don't want to tell J at the dinner table those nights, I had a bad day. I did not have a "bad" day!
As soon as I got home, I unloaded my kiln which was full of all the jewelry pieces I've been making over the last two weeks. Just in the bisque stage now, but I think glazing is always the most fun part anyhow. I am anxious to see how everything will turn out, especially the buttons and beads. I've seen so many great handmade ceramic buttons selling on Etsy. I had been thinking about making buttons and beads for a long time, so when I saw lots of them on Etsy, I was very encouraged to know there is a market out there for them. I don't sew, just a little cross-stitch here and there, but I know a one of a kind handmade button should appeal to someone out there for their projects. And with my very very small kiln, that is what I'm going to concentrate on for the time being. I will still make my tiles and small dishes, but the buttons and beads have been so much fun.
I spent the remainder of the morning working in the yard, and that is a huge effort for me. I planted eight perennials in our newest flower beds- they've been sitting around in pots and since it's rained the last few days and the ground was super soft, I took advantage of this cloudy morning to get digging. It's a bit of a strain for me, since I have to wear my wrist brace whenever I work in the garden. Even so, I would have to come inside and rest after every other plant. I was planning on scheduling my wrist surgery soon, but the other day my doctor revealed the outcome of my latest round of blood tests from last week, and some of the numbers were not good at all. She recommended postponing the surgery until I can get some of these numbers to come down. She said surgery at this time- even a minor one- would be too great of a risk. So alas, I will have to deal with the debilitating pain in my right hand for awhile longer. Most days I can down a few Motrin and keep going with the brace on. Some days, that's not enough, and the pain stops me in my tracks.
I am finding that I still struggle with grading myself and my moods, on what I did or didn't "DO" on any given day. It's ridiculous and I want very much to stop this behavior, because it's digging away at me, and at how I feel about myself and my overall life. Or rather, this newest phase of my life. Today I label this a good day, because I was productive and had somewhat good energy, because I finally planted the flowers that have been sitting around outside for a few weeks now, because I filled a box with fired pottery as solid proof that I am indeed working on it, because I've already marinated the meat for dinner and chopped up all the veggies I will roast in the oven tonight. All because I wanted to.
Yesterday was an unhappy day. Although I did all my housework- wiped down bathrooms, washed all the clothes, cleaned all the cat litter boxes, vacuumed the entire house, took out all the garbage- I did it all very slowly and with little energy. It took me the whole day just to do those few things. I judge myself cruelly because it would have taken a normal woman 2-3 hours to accomplish all of that, and then she would have moved on to something else more important or enjoyable. My "enjoyment" never came yesterday. I was tired, achy, and down, and I never had the time or stamina to do anything but the housework. True, I took many many breaks during the day, where I barely had the energy to read a magazine. But it was one of those days where I could not keep going for more than 15-20 minute stretches before I was in pain and somewhat exhausted.
Monday, to me, my day was completely miserable and I spent the day hating myself and hating my life. All because I woke up not feeling well. I didn't even get up with J to see him off to work, I physically couldn't push myself to do it. I slept late, then just stayed in bed watching TV until late in the day, when it was with tremendous effort that I simply got up to shower and get ready to make dinner. I don't have many days that are that bad, but I don't even cut myself any slack when I do. I still feel like I have this timetable hanging over my head, where I must achieve goals or produce work in order to justify my staying at home full time. Of course that's ridiculous, and no one has those expectations but me.
I don't know why I can't simply tell myself, stop for a minute. Today I am going to sit in my favorite chair and finish the paperback I've been reading, and that evening I will say wow, I had a wonderful relaxing positive good day today. Even if reading was the only thing I did for the entire day. Who do I have to answer to for that? No one. No one is going to say, you are fired! You suck as a human being because you decided to read instead of scrub all the baseboards today. Why can't I be okay with a day here and there where I don't accomplish anything that is task-oriented. The only thing J stipulated in our agreement for me to quit my job, was that I work on improving my health, and by that he meant not only physical but mental and emotional as well. I do not have to be physically on my feet and moving every minute from the time I wake up until the time I go to bed, I do not work for a corporation anymore.
I know I am going to have low days, where my medication makes me feel sick, or my pain slows my movements down to a crawl, where I have a crippling migraine and I can't function, and I know my moods may not always be spectacularly happy. But I don't want to continue to criticize myself so damn harshly on those days, when I don't do a lot. I don't want to tell J at the dinner table those nights, I had a bad day. I did not have a "bad" day!
MISS GEE
Monday, June 10, 2013
Carrying On
Yesterday started off as a normal Sunday at our house. We quietly shared a pot of coffee while we sat in the kitchen and read the paper. J worked on his laptop for a bit. I watered the plants on the deck. We stood on the front porch watching the much needed rain- loving it because our yard is full of colorful lilies right now but dreading it because we know we have a small hole in our roof where it's leaking into our sunroom. We talked about where we wanted to go out to dinner later that night. Then we had to get ready to leave for the day. J looked so handsome in his dark suit and tie, and I was able to find the one dress I own that still fits. I fussed with my hair, my makeup, pairing up my necklace and bracelet. I remembered to move everything from my brown purse into my black one, to match my dress and shoes. We both took great care to look groomed and appropriate. We were going to the funeral of one of J's employees.
Not just any funeral, but that of a young man, several years younger than us. A man who died unexpectedly while on vacation with his wife and four children. I admit I don't like funerals and rarely go to them. But J needed the support, so I went. I'd never met the man, he worked in a department that I never came into contact with at the company. J said he felt ashamed he didn't know the man better, but J has 400 employees under him, I told him it's impossible to be able to really "know" them all. The service was two hours long, and at least 200 people were crammed into every seat in the small funeral home's sanctuary. I'm not a religious person, I couldn't relate to all the talk about this man being in a better place, or how the ceremony wasn't a funeral but a celebration of his passing into heaven. The only thing I could relate to was the stabbing sobs of the woman he left behind, the wife who loved him and now would have to carry on without him, who repeatedly draped herself over his casket, unwilling to let him go.
Even before the service, in a receiving room filled with grieving family and friends, I instantly knew which person was his wife. She sat unmoving and staring blankly amid all the animation of hugs and handshakes. She wore no makeup, her hair was tied back in an unkempt ponytail, she wore glasses when all the surrounding family photos showed she clearly wore contacts on a normal day. She didn't even have a dress on- just a simple pullover shirt and pants, like she was carefree and headed off to the grocery store. And even though I'd never seen this woman before, I recognized her as the widow because I thought, that would be me. If I lost J, my grief would eat me alive and I in no way could be bothered with my appearance or even pretending to care about it. I am not sure I would even be able to function at all. I am not sure I would be able to stay alive long enough to attend the funeral.
I don't think I could live without J. People say that all the time, "I can't live without you" but I actually literally mean it. What joy and happiness that I do have in my life, is all because of J and our existence as a couple. Without J, I doubt I could even get out of bed in the morning. There is no other reason for me to push daily beyond my depression and chronic pain, except for J. He is already my "second chance" at love, and I don't believe there would ever be anyone else. I'm sure I could one day meet someone who might give me a semblance of comfort, but never the passion and love and devotion that J and I have for each other.
Does that mean there is something wrong with my life, that I wouldn't want to keep going without my husband by my side? I have no children, my parents are elderly, my one sibling and I speak to each other only at holidays. My few good friends all live in other states and have their own lives. I don't belong to any organizations, I have zero ties to this community, I don't even have a career that I could get lost in. So what else is there but J? Everything else, without him, would be a pointless existence. I would be going through the motions only, dead inside. And for what? For who?
I don't like to think about losing my husband, but sadly I know plenty of young widows my age. And I know it happens in the blink of an eye, and you are never ready for it. One friend my age lost her husband of 20 years on a normal workday, when he and coworkers went out for lunch, and a speeding car hit them at an intersection. He died instantly. When I kiss J goodbye every morning and send him to the office, I never think to myself, this could be the very last time I see him alive. And I don't want to think about that. But I know it's true, and I know it's always a possibility.
J and I try to make each and every moment count when we are together. I think that's why we go and do so many things on the weekends, why we eat dinner together every night, why we've adopted each other's interests as our own, why our morning ritual is for me to rub his back and our nightly ritual is for him to rub mine. And even though we like our quiet time apart and alone, when we are together we make it count and make it real. We met late in life, we know that for us there will never be a golden anniversary. My mom tells me that J and I have done and seen more together in our short decade, than she and my dad have in their fifty years of marriage. It's just how we are, and I can't imagine it being any other way.
More than that, I can't and won't imagine a life without my husband in it. Our love is my life.
Not just any funeral, but that of a young man, several years younger than us. A man who died unexpectedly while on vacation with his wife and four children. I admit I don't like funerals and rarely go to them. But J needed the support, so I went. I'd never met the man, he worked in a department that I never came into contact with at the company. J said he felt ashamed he didn't know the man better, but J has 400 employees under him, I told him it's impossible to be able to really "know" them all. The service was two hours long, and at least 200 people were crammed into every seat in the small funeral home's sanctuary. I'm not a religious person, I couldn't relate to all the talk about this man being in a better place, or how the ceremony wasn't a funeral but a celebration of his passing into heaven. The only thing I could relate to was the stabbing sobs of the woman he left behind, the wife who loved him and now would have to carry on without him, who repeatedly draped herself over his casket, unwilling to let him go.
Even before the service, in a receiving room filled with grieving family and friends, I instantly knew which person was his wife. She sat unmoving and staring blankly amid all the animation of hugs and handshakes. She wore no makeup, her hair was tied back in an unkempt ponytail, she wore glasses when all the surrounding family photos showed she clearly wore contacts on a normal day. She didn't even have a dress on- just a simple pullover shirt and pants, like she was carefree and headed off to the grocery store. And even though I'd never seen this woman before, I recognized her as the widow because I thought, that would be me. If I lost J, my grief would eat me alive and I in no way could be bothered with my appearance or even pretending to care about it. I am not sure I would even be able to function at all. I am not sure I would be able to stay alive long enough to attend the funeral.
I don't think I could live without J. People say that all the time, "I can't live without you" but I actually literally mean it. What joy and happiness that I do have in my life, is all because of J and our existence as a couple. Without J, I doubt I could even get out of bed in the morning. There is no other reason for me to push daily beyond my depression and chronic pain, except for J. He is already my "second chance" at love, and I don't believe there would ever be anyone else. I'm sure I could one day meet someone who might give me a semblance of comfort, but never the passion and love and devotion that J and I have for each other.
Does that mean there is something wrong with my life, that I wouldn't want to keep going without my husband by my side? I have no children, my parents are elderly, my one sibling and I speak to each other only at holidays. My few good friends all live in other states and have their own lives. I don't belong to any organizations, I have zero ties to this community, I don't even have a career that I could get lost in. So what else is there but J? Everything else, without him, would be a pointless existence. I would be going through the motions only, dead inside. And for what? For who?
I don't like to think about losing my husband, but sadly I know plenty of young widows my age. And I know it happens in the blink of an eye, and you are never ready for it. One friend my age lost her husband of 20 years on a normal workday, when he and coworkers went out for lunch, and a speeding car hit them at an intersection. He died instantly. When I kiss J goodbye every morning and send him to the office, I never think to myself, this could be the very last time I see him alive. And I don't want to think about that. But I know it's true, and I know it's always a possibility.
J and I try to make each and every moment count when we are together. I think that's why we go and do so many things on the weekends, why we eat dinner together every night, why we've adopted each other's interests as our own, why our morning ritual is for me to rub his back and our nightly ritual is for him to rub mine. And even though we like our quiet time apart and alone, when we are together we make it count and make it real. We met late in life, we know that for us there will never be a golden anniversary. My mom tells me that J and I have done and seen more together in our short decade, than she and my dad have in their fifty years of marriage. It's just how we are, and I can't imagine it being any other way.
More than that, I can't and won't imagine a life without my husband in it. Our love is my life.
MISS GEE
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Agendas
Oh I have to apologize for my previous post, I don't want people thinking I hate my family. I don't. I was just tired, frustrated, and venting. It was a stressful situation that just brought out the worst in me. J said how people respond to stress shows a lot about their character, so I must really suck as a human being.
But this has been a good week, I am still trying to find a regular routine and rhythm for my days at home. It is harder than I thought it would be. I was so great at time management and organization at the office, but now that I'm at home every day, it's like I can't even put my thoughts and actions together long enough to concentrate on making breakfast. I don't know what it is, but my days have not been very productive. But I guess that depends on who you ask. If you ask J, he will say it's all been good because my stress is down, my weight is down, my blood pressure is down. Those were his goals for me. But I had my own goals in mind and I am just not quite getting to them.
I've only been at home since the beginning of May, and one of those weeks we were out of town, and another week I spent at the hospital with my parents. Even so, I feel as though I should have accomplished more in this time period. I have been working on pottery this week, but only for 1-2 hours a day. I really envision myself making pottery full time, and maybe I will get there. I still think about my old job a lot, and feel its shadow hovering over me, although I will never be back there again. J said to stop wasting a single brain cell on that place. I frequently wake up in the morning, having had a vivid dream about the office. I suppose those will end one day. Mentally I still feel like I am on a temporary vacation, instead of trying to focus my energy on making myself a full time stay at home entrepreneur. I don't know if selling art on Etsy really qualifies me as self-employed or not. It seems as though I've been working on my notebook of ideas, more than I have actually been making the pottery.
J really wants me to find a place where we can rent a booth and sell antiques and my art. That seems to have become popular again lately in our area. But I don't know if that's something I'm interested in doing or not. We have several places here in town that take antiques on consignment, and plenty of fairs and festivals to get booths at. I don't feel that organized yet, but I suppose it's something we could look at. It's not really for the money, I think he's just trying to help me find something to focus on. I don't know anything about antiques- I know we go to auctions and estate sales, and we buy what we like. My tastes are very specific, such as vintage pottery and original oil paintings. I buy a piece because I find it attractive, and I buy things without knowing their true monetary value. Of course, I usually buy something to go into my home, not to turn around and resell it. I don't know if I have enough knowledge to buy items cheap at yard sales and auctions, then try to mark them up for profit at an antique booth. But, I'm still giving it some thought. In fact on Saturday we're headed up to the starting point of a 90 mile long yard sale, that goes along an old highway through a dozen or more small towns. I know J is going with the intentions of scoping out deals for selling.
The new medication I'm on since getting out of the hospital in April, still makes me quite sick and slows me down, but some days I feel like I'm just using this as an excuse. This morning I fell with a thud into the large dresser in our bedroom, J came rushing in to ask if I was okay. I was. I just have extreme dizzy spells and sudden weakness in my limbs, and I can't stand up too quickly if I've been sitting for a bit. I know it's the blood pressure medication, because my BP was so high two months ago, the doctor gave me the strongest meds she could to get it lowered. Now I think my BP is bottoming out and causing the weakness. It's kept me from working in the yard (I get sick every time I go out there), and kept me from exercising as much as I would like to. I have an appointment in two weeks with my doctor, and I will discuss all of this with her, to see if she can lower my dosage.
The bottom line for me is, I am still feeling lost at home and grappling with putting purpose into my daily life. I didn't quit my job to stay at home and vacuum all day (which literally does take me all day to do because I get very weak after just 2-3 minutes, I have to stop and rest frequently). Until our upcoming vacation at the end of July, there should be no interruptions to my being at home alone every day, to work on whatever I want to work on. Be it pottery, exercise, gardening, or even my three blogs. I feel like I am just whining on here, about all the negatives. But really there are NO negatives in my life right now! J graciously opened up a huge doorway into the future for me, to be and do whatever it is I truly desire, to have all the time and tools and opportunity to create the life I want for myself. Not many husbands can do that for their wives. And I don't want to squander it away. J is usually gone for 12 hours a day, sometimes more, and I have absolutely nothing to do except for what I put on my list for the day.
It's almost too overwhelming. I feel like a little girl who still hasn't decided what she wants to be one day when she finally grows up. But hell, I'm no kid, I'm almost 50! Why haven't I figured it all out yet?
MISS GEE
Monday, June 3, 2013
I Am Horrible
Over the last week, I came to realize that the outside world might regard me as a terrible person. My parents came to see us recently. They were going to stay a few days then I was going to leave with them for a quick visit back to my hometown. But on the very first day, my dad took a tumble and broke his hip. He was rushed to the hospital and had surgery the next morning. Of course I felt awful for my dad- he is in his 70's but he is very healthy and extremely active and still works full time by choice. For the next few days, he was in pain and stayed pretty much in a drug-induced stupor. He slept constantly, waking up only briefly as nurses came and went. The first physical therapy session the day after his surgery consisted of him walking over to a chair and sitting down. I was impressed- after my recent shoulder surgery, I couldn't move my arm for at least two weeks and dad was up walking across the room two days after his hip replacement.
I shuttled my mom back and forth from the hospital so she could be with my dad. Some days I stayed there for hours on end, sitting. Some days I would stay for a bit then tell her I had to go back home to take care of things, and I'd be back in awhile. If that had been J, I would have spent every moment at his side- but that was not my husband in the bed, it was her husband. To me, dad was simply sleeping after a very common and successful surgery- there were no life-threatening issues, and the doctor said he would be moving about independently using a walker or crutches, in two weeks. My mom likes to hover, I do not. A 24-hour a day vigil was not needed, although that's what my sister did, sleeping there in my dad's room for her first two nights in town. I'm sorry that by 7PM I wanted to go back home for the evening and had to take my mom with me- we'd been there since 6:30AM to see him off before his surgery. I was tired, I was hungry, my back hurt from sitting in his room all day, I wanted to go home and my mom was depending on me to drive her back and forth to the hospital. She had to leave when I was ready to leave, and I physically couldn't stay there a minute longer. That must make me a total bitch.
Yes, my sister couldn't stand it anymore and drove the 500+ miles here. Basically to take over, because that's the kind of person she is. To her, me sitting with my parents at the hospital while my dad slept, was tantamount to doing absolutely nothing useful, and that wasn't good enough. As soon as she got here, she convinced my mom to stay in a hotel with her, instead of at my house, because I was a 20 minute drive away compared to the Hilton that was around the corner. My dad was moved to a rehab center, where they said he would need to stay for another 2-3 weeks for physical therapy. My sister was hysterical, both she and my mom cried the minute they put him in there. Because there were "old" people there in wheelchairs, and there was an assisted living facility in the same building, he shouldn't "be" at that kind of place. Whatever. In a moment of wakefulness, my dad said to me "well you know your sister and your mom are drama queens, but don't say anything to hurt their feelings." By the next day, my sister had called in favors and arranged private transport for my dad, and got him admitted to a rehab center back home. Today, Monday morning, after 9 days of back and forth to the hospital and rehab, they are all gone.
And I am horrible for being very glad of it. I love my family, and maybe it's because I left my hometown almost 20 years ago and my sister still lives there, but I can only tolerate being around them for very small doses. My mom and my sister talk incessantly. They talk to each other about people back home who I don't know, and when they chit chat I am always left out of the conversation. Being alone with my mother is torture for me, she can't let there be one second of silence. And she speaks in a baby talk tone to me, which actually makes my stomach ill. She has to fill the void with words, many of them pointless. If we are in the car and I'm not talking, she will read street signs and billboards and store names to me, just to have sound in the air. I can't stand it. I am very comfortable with not speaking for periods of time, and having quiet around me. Even when J and I are together, we are okay with not talking. And I don't speak if there is nothing to say. It hurts my mom because I don't want to talk nonstop, but that's just how I am and I don't mean to be disrespectful. I listen, I just don't always feel the need to comment back to her. And my mom has a tendency to repeat herself multiple times, to the point where I have to say "yes, you told me that already" when she's started the same story for the fifth time. I just can't take it. And I know I should be more kind and patient with her, but I'm not. And I get stressed out too, I just don't always externalize it.
I'm glad that my dad could go spend his recuperation back home- he will have family and friends galore come visit him, his own doctors to take care of him. If it was me, I would not want to spend a month away from home either. He was fortunate that he has a good friend who owns a private ambulance company, and that his doctor has political pull to get him into a prominent rehab facility at a moment's notice. I am glad that my mom will be back in her own home again, comfortable. I'm sorry that I didn't weep over my dad's hospital bed like my sister and mother did. It doesn't mean that I don't care. I just don't necessarily equate sobs and hysterics with love and compassion. I rarely cry, about anything, but I don't want others to see me as cold and unfeeling. It just means that my eyes don't leak saline at the drop of a hat.
If my dad had to stay here in rehab for a month, and my mother had to stay at my house for a month, and I had to drive her back and forth for a month, and if I had to spend my hours sitting in a hard chair every day staring at my dad in bed for a month- I would have done it. Not with overwhelming joy in my heart, but with the dedication and responsibility a child has to help out their parents in a time of need. Although I am honest in saying all this, it also makes me feel like a selfish and ungrateful turd. I'm sure that's exactly what my sister thinks of me right about now.
I'm sorry that I'm relieved and happy that today my house is completely quiet and empty, and I'm not obligated to be anywhere or be around anyone, and I can sit down long enough to finish a cup of coffee and get a load of laundry done. My dad is where he should be, and his wife and other daughter and grandchildren and friends will all dote on him, instead of him being stuck here with me where no one would come to visit him. I know my limitations, and here in this town I have no contacts, no influence. Whatever the doctors said to do, wherever they wanted to send my dad, however long they wanted to keep him there- I could only dutifully show up and drag my mother with me. Even if I didn't cry over his pain, everything turned out for the best. And my lack of tears had nothing to do with it.
I shuttled my mom back and forth from the hospital so she could be with my dad. Some days I stayed there for hours on end, sitting. Some days I would stay for a bit then tell her I had to go back home to take care of things, and I'd be back in awhile. If that had been J, I would have spent every moment at his side- but that was not my husband in the bed, it was her husband. To me, dad was simply sleeping after a very common and successful surgery- there were no life-threatening issues, and the doctor said he would be moving about independently using a walker or crutches, in two weeks. My mom likes to hover, I do not. A 24-hour a day vigil was not needed, although that's what my sister did, sleeping there in my dad's room for her first two nights in town. I'm sorry that by 7PM I wanted to go back home for the evening and had to take my mom with me- we'd been there since 6:30AM to see him off before his surgery. I was tired, I was hungry, my back hurt from sitting in his room all day, I wanted to go home and my mom was depending on me to drive her back and forth to the hospital. She had to leave when I was ready to leave, and I physically couldn't stay there a minute longer. That must make me a total bitch.
Yes, my sister couldn't stand it anymore and drove the 500+ miles here. Basically to take over, because that's the kind of person she is. To her, me sitting with my parents at the hospital while my dad slept, was tantamount to doing absolutely nothing useful, and that wasn't good enough. As soon as she got here, she convinced my mom to stay in a hotel with her, instead of at my house, because I was a 20 minute drive away compared to the Hilton that was around the corner. My dad was moved to a rehab center, where they said he would need to stay for another 2-3 weeks for physical therapy. My sister was hysterical, both she and my mom cried the minute they put him in there. Because there were "old" people there in wheelchairs, and there was an assisted living facility in the same building, he shouldn't "be" at that kind of place. Whatever. In a moment of wakefulness, my dad said to me "well you know your sister and your mom are drama queens, but don't say anything to hurt their feelings." By the next day, my sister had called in favors and arranged private transport for my dad, and got him admitted to a rehab center back home. Today, Monday morning, after 9 days of back and forth to the hospital and rehab, they are all gone.
And I am horrible for being very glad of it. I love my family, and maybe it's because I left my hometown almost 20 years ago and my sister still lives there, but I can only tolerate being around them for very small doses. My mom and my sister talk incessantly. They talk to each other about people back home who I don't know, and when they chit chat I am always left out of the conversation. Being alone with my mother is torture for me, she can't let there be one second of silence. And she speaks in a baby talk tone to me, which actually makes my stomach ill. She has to fill the void with words, many of them pointless. If we are in the car and I'm not talking, she will read street signs and billboards and store names to me, just to have sound in the air. I can't stand it. I am very comfortable with not speaking for periods of time, and having quiet around me. Even when J and I are together, we are okay with not talking. And I don't speak if there is nothing to say. It hurts my mom because I don't want to talk nonstop, but that's just how I am and I don't mean to be disrespectful. I listen, I just don't always feel the need to comment back to her. And my mom has a tendency to repeat herself multiple times, to the point where I have to say "yes, you told me that already" when she's started the same story for the fifth time. I just can't take it. And I know I should be more kind and patient with her, but I'm not. And I get stressed out too, I just don't always externalize it.
I'm glad that my dad could go spend his recuperation back home- he will have family and friends galore come visit him, his own doctors to take care of him. If it was me, I would not want to spend a month away from home either. He was fortunate that he has a good friend who owns a private ambulance company, and that his doctor has political pull to get him into a prominent rehab facility at a moment's notice. I am glad that my mom will be back in her own home again, comfortable. I'm sorry that I didn't weep over my dad's hospital bed like my sister and mother did. It doesn't mean that I don't care. I just don't necessarily equate sobs and hysterics with love and compassion. I rarely cry, about anything, but I don't want others to see me as cold and unfeeling. It just means that my eyes don't leak saline at the drop of a hat.
If my dad had to stay here in rehab for a month, and my mother had to stay at my house for a month, and I had to drive her back and forth for a month, and if I had to spend my hours sitting in a hard chair every day staring at my dad in bed for a month- I would have done it. Not with overwhelming joy in my heart, but with the dedication and responsibility a child has to help out their parents in a time of need. Although I am honest in saying all this, it also makes me feel like a selfish and ungrateful turd. I'm sure that's exactly what my sister thinks of me right about now.
I'm sorry that I'm relieved and happy that today my house is completely quiet and empty, and I'm not obligated to be anywhere or be around anyone, and I can sit down long enough to finish a cup of coffee and get a load of laundry done. My dad is where he should be, and his wife and other daughter and grandchildren and friends will all dote on him, instead of him being stuck here with me where no one would come to visit him. I know my limitations, and here in this town I have no contacts, no influence. Whatever the doctors said to do, wherever they wanted to send my dad, however long they wanted to keep him there- I could only dutifully show up and drag my mother with me. Even if I didn't cry over his pain, everything turned out for the best. And my lack of tears had nothing to do with it.
MISS GEE
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