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.)
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