Decisions

Everyone makes them.  Decisions that is.  Some bad, some good.  Some decisions you won't see the outcome for many years.  Some cause instant gratification. Some people may feel that making decisions is out of their hands, but that is just an illusion.  We make decisions every day, starting with the alarm going off in the morning.  Do I bounce out of bed now, or do I hit snooze and cuddle under the covers for a few more minutes?  You make decisions all day long, about every little thing you do- or don't do.  It continues until the evening when you yawn and think, should I go on to bed or should I read/work/watch TV a little longer?

The Thanksgiving holiday gave me moments to ponder this.  How my decisions create the life I live, and how the decisions of people in my early years also played such a huge part in "making" me who I am.  I didn't grow up rich, but I grew up with two parents who stayed together and set good examples.  My father always worked, my mother always stayed at home to raise us.  They didn't drink or smoke, and didn't cuss in front of us, didn't do drugs, didn't break the law. We were taught to not steal, not cheat.  I grew up not struggling, not wanting for food or shelter or clothes.  Some people will say I was lucky.  I don't believe that.  I believe that MY parents were the people they were, because of the decisions of their parents, and so on.  Both of their sets of parents worked hard and lived good lives, so my parents continued the tradition, and my sister and I both adhered to that way of thinking.  My sister is now raising two sons who don't get in trouble, do well in school, have friends, don't talk back, who do what their parents tell them to do, who say please and thank you and yes sir.  And because of that, I believe my nephews will both be successful and balanced and hopefully happy men.

Stopping at a gas station over the holidays, we found three young people in the parking lot trying to make their way to California.  The girl was strumming her guitar, singing, and even though they were obviously having issues, you could hear joy in her voice and see the smile on her face.  I had planned to get myself a coffee and a snack, but instead gave her the dollars in my pocket.  After putting gas in our own truck, J offered to fill up their car, which they gratefully accepted.  We could have walked on by like everyone else and went about our own business, but we like- and want- to do the right thing and help when we can, because we are fortunate and in the position to spare a few bucks.  The decision to help them out may not make a real difference in the end, but hopefully it made a difference that cold night.  Hopefully they will pass it on if they ever come into a similar situation.

At Thanksgiving with J's family, his younger sister invited two strangers, a homeless couple, to share the day with us.  I think at first it took us all by surprise, no one knew what to think or do.  But in a house filled with four generations and 15 family members, having two more at the table wasn't a burden.  They were living in their car at a truck stop, he was working a few hours a week at a barely-minimum wage job, and she was pregnant.  So they spent a few hours in a warm home, ate a big meal, and took enough leftovers with them to hopefully see them through another day or two.  Maybe the gesture was small and was only one dinner, but perhaps they wouldn't have eaten at all that day if not for the invitation.  We don't know, we didn't judge, we just said- here please have more there's plenty for everyone.

These stories have two sides.  The decision to help out people when they are having a tough time, is really an obvious one to make.  I know there are scammers out there, panhandling as a "living", but a lot of folks just need a small break in life.  And maybe the only break they get that day is a dollar from a stranger.  That's our side- we have the easy part, as the "giver" who can afford to give, as the people who have enough to share with others in need.  But it made me think about how we got to that point, as well as how the other side got to where they were at.  Maybe someone is homeless because of a job loss, but maybe they are homeless because of terrible decisions that they made.  The man that came to our family dinner did admit to being a convicted felon, for burglary.  He had been a successful construction worker before, and lost his house because of his crime and jail time.  That was his decision to rob someone. And he says now, because of that, he can't find decent employment to support his family.  I feel sympathy for their situation.  But no one made him commit a robbery.  Now his child will be born to a mother who sits alone in a small compact car in a parking lot all day long, waiting for her husband to come back from his shift at a fast food place.  Because he made a bad decision.

The decisions that both J and I have made over the years- individually before we met and as a couple since we've been together- have cemented the life we share.  Decisions about jobs, about partners, about how to spend or save money, about who we befriended.  Decisions about what to eat or what not to drink. Decisions about earning what you have, and not taking what doesn't belong to you.  The decision to not punch out your boss because he's a dick, the decision to leave a relationship that has become abusive, the decision to avoid people who will lead you down the wrong pathway.  It's a choice to avoid the bad- don't do drugs, don't drink and drive, don't lie to others, don't steal from the store or break into someone's house, don't kill anyone.  It's a choice to embrace the good- forgiveness, truth, love, honesty, working hard, commitment.

I'm in a good place now, but I've known those lean years.  I've had those years of no health insurance but getting sick, of renting an old mouse-infested house and being glad for it, of driving a 20-year-old piece of crap car but having days when I couldn't afford to put gas in it so I walked to work or took a bus.  In any of those situations I could have decided to steal what I wanted or ignored the bill from the walk-in clinic or found excuses not to show up at my work.  I've had to make that decision to get a second crappy job on top of a full time job that exhausted me, just so I could pay those bills and have that place to live.  That was my choice.  I may have hated that job, it may have sucked, it may have been "beneath" me- but I grew up with parents who made similar decisions to work multiple jobs and always pay their debts and bills.  So I made the same decision.  I have free will.  I could have just shrugged my shoulders and said oh well fuck it all.  That too would have been a choice.  But I didn't go that route.  Some people do.

Decisions- good and bad- can snowball sometimes.  For yourself or others.  Sometimes you can't see beyond a choice and how it directly pertains to only you at that moment.  Deciding to eat a chocolate chip cookie every day may seem like a little thing, but it may be the one thing that causes me to die of a heart attack, and leaves my family behind, devastated.  Deciding to finally clean up my space and take an old dress I never wear anymore to Goodwill, may be the first step for a single mom to get a better job and lift her entire family up.  Everyone can make a decision to change something. Today I will decide to not buy a pack of cigarettes for myself and instead buy a bag of apples for my children.  Today I will smile at the coworker who is always rude to me.  Today I will take a walk around the block instead of watching another sitcom. Today I will call my mom.  Today I will cut off that person in my life who always drags me down.  Today I will pay attention in class then study, instead of partying all night. We do many of these things every day without putting any thought into them, and maybe we should be more mindful of each choice we make and what it may lead to.

Maybe those people we helped over the holidays- with money or food- have had bad luck on their side since before they were born.  Perhaps their parents made horrible choices in life, which in turn paved their road with even more bad decisions to come.  I really do try not to judge.  I would like to think that everyone can make good choices and better decisions, no matter their station in life, and I know I'm naïve to say that.  Maybe you can't make the big decisions- about jobs or finances- because you aren't in a position to have those choices available to you.  But I would like to think that no matter your circumstances or upbringing, you can make the every day decisions for yourself to be faithful, to always tell the truth, to uphold the law, and to say no thanks when others around you are not choosing so wisely.  Small ideals, but who knows what those seemingly insignificant decisions will do for that person's life and the people around them.

MISS GEE

Better and Better

Just a quick note from me, to all the folks who (don't) read me.  I am doing well, at least for me.  I'm maintaining- my sanity, my weight, my balance.  And that's okay, and I want to be okay with it being okay.  Pitiful that I can't reach for the stars, but instead I'm happy just to have an ordinary day like the rest of the planet.

I don't mean to ignore the blog, in fact I think about it every day.  In bed at night when I can't shut off my brain, I think about all the things I want to blog about.  Then I just have days where I struggle even putting thoughts together, much less finding the motivation to sit down and type.  But we've been busy too.  A pair of vacations since my last post, and a few weekends in the mountains.  Family coming in this weekend and the next week, and we're off for five days at Thanksgiving.  Luckily my entire contribution for Thanksgiving every year is bringing one side dish, and showing up- which J takes care of since he does all the driving up the interstate.  Another mountain weekend in early December.  Family here at Christmas for at least a week.  Two back to back family birthday celebrations after Christmas that send us out of town again.  Then we have a two-week vacation in late January.  February sees our anniversary and J's birthday, both which usually have trips attached to them.  It seems like something is always on the calendar.  Most people swear we are never ever home.  It feels like that.  I love going off on adventures with J, but I sure do also love my quiet days at home.

I am always more content at this time of year. The cold weather- at least when it's bright and sunny and clear outside- does my heart and spirit good.  It's my favorite season: Winter In The South.  Like everywhere else, it's already been colder and arrived earlier than normal here.  My days have been spent cleaning up the garden, reading with afternoon coffee at hand, and time in the kitchen making soups and stocks.  That's about it.  I haven't started decorating for Christmas yet, although I will soon.  There's just something about putting away the pumpkins and leaves before Thanksgiving that is wrong to me.  It's turkey time, Santa needs to wait his turn.

J and I are both at a bit of a divide.  Not with each other, no never.  With ourselves.  My battles are daily, with my depression.  I am deeply committed to my twice-weekly yoga now, and it helps more than I expected.  I've upped my vitamin intake, and decreased my junk food habits.  Every little bit helps, but it will always be an ongoing process for me.  2014 was definitely better than 2013.  And I'm making plans already to have 2015 be even better.  There are so many areas I need to work on, besides my mental health.  My physical health, my business, my spiritual side.  I want to learn to accept that I am who I am- I don't need to be like anyone else out there, and I don't need to meet anyone's expectations other than my own.  All I want to do is find my own sense of balance in my life.  Balance between artist and housewife, between happy and angry, between going on and shutting down, between doing what I want to do and doing what needs to be done.  My hopes and desires don't always coexist, sometimes the many factions within me go to war.  Overcoming that is my challenge.

J on the other hand is struggling with his feelings about his job, and is trying to focus on his attitude.  He has even suggested to me, that I need to tone down the negative comments, because I like to be a complete smart ass about everything, even tragedies on the news.  It's my way of being funny and dealing, but J says it isn't healthy to always be so snide and derogatory and cynical.  I agree and I'm working on it.  He's even asked me not to cuss so much, because I use the F-word in pretty much every sentence without even realizing yet.  I'm awful, and I actually have to make a monumental effort to say shoot instead of shit.  Sad.

J's been listening to Joel Osteen every morning and evening in his truck. I think the guy is a complete douche bag, but whatever the messages are, they are helping J to have a more positive experience, so I bite my tongue.  I've stopped making fun of J for getting into it.  I don't let him listen when I'm in the vehicle with him, just like I don't let him listen to his ultra-conservative political junk.  If I'm going to survive life, it won't be because some pompous windbag yapped motivational rhetoric at me through the satellite radio.  Anyhow.

Have a wonderful holiday, however you celebrate it at your home.  I will be back soon.

MISS GEE

I Can't Help

I really did want to post today, I have several half-written pieces saved as drafts but just can't seem to find the time, energy, or desire to finish them.  I told my physical therapist yesterday, I've been in a funky zone lately, completely tuned out.  Like, I pull up in front of the grocery store but honest to god can't remember actually driving there.  Seriously.  I spent all day in town yesterday running errands and going to appointments, but if I had to sit down and write out my itinerary, I wouldn't be able to remember it all.

J is at his physical and emotional limits at work, he is stretched to his breaking point.  I know if he had other options, he would leave. My parents visited over the holiday weekend, and my dad asked him how it was going, and J told him he hated his job and wished he could quit.  He is the busiest and most stressed out that he's ever been, and it's all because he spends his days fixing problems that other people cause.  His job is making him sick, physically.  He's having headaches, he's waking up exhausted after long nights of no sleep, he's depressed.  I've never seen my husband like this before, and I am powerless to help him.  He unfortunately did not get the job with the new company that he interviewed with a few weeks ago, and I think he had pinned all his hopes on that being able to rescue him from his current situation.  He wants to walk away from the company, as soon as possible.  He just has to have somewhere else to go to first.

My stomach has been hurting ever since he left for the office this morning, just thinking and worrying about him.  He's never struggled so much with the job. He's never let it get to him this much before.  Every morning I walk him out to his truck, and we talk for a few minutes as he's loading up the huge backpack he brings home every night- the one with his laptop and filled with papers from work.  He said he wants to feel passionate about his job again, the way he used to, before the stress and unattainable deadlines and forced shortcuts and hostile directives from corporate.  He is too overwhelmed to feel anything but relief when Friday night rolls around, and yet he spends all weekend at home working as well.

Last night he was complaining about his chest hurting, but said not in a "call 911" kind of way.  This morning he was saying his face was hurting him.  He doesn't normally get headaches, he's not used to them.  This is the man who, in 15 years with the company, has never called out sick once.  Ever.

Saturday morning we leave for vacation.  He told me he doesn't know what he would do right now, if we didn't have this break coming up.  I'm hoping that once we drag our luggage through the big doors at the world's busiest airport, then land at the country's busiest city, all the work worries will melt away.  At least for that week.  I can't promise that he won't be "thinking" about work- he will still be checking emails, he will still be fretting over what new project awaits him upon his return, he will still stress with the anxiety over what got missed or forgotten or just plain screwed up while we was out.

Not being able to help your loved one sucks.

MISS GEE

Warped

It's super early as I start this post, still pitch black outside the office window. In the glow of a street light I can see the shape of a rabbit in the front yard, nibbling on pears that fell from our tree during a windy storm yesterday evening.  All of the cats have already gone back to sleep, scattered all over the house. J had to get up at the unbearable hour of 5am today, and as always I get up with him to spend those few moments together. Well I guess he didn't "have" to get up that early, he is just compelled by his dedication to his job to do it.  He knows he will be in a meeting from noon until 6pm today- some safety training- and normally on Mondays he spends most of his day running reports for the corporate offices.  He felt he needed to go in a few hours early in order to get all of "his" work done.  My husband doesn't know how to delegate- he's the boss but doesn't want to burden any of his employees with extra duties, even for one morning.  It makes me proud and annoys me at the same time.  Proud because that's the kind of man he is, but annoyed because it cuts into our lives.  I have to remind myself that it's a life we wouldn't have, if not for that paycheck, so it's in my best interest sometimes to just suck it up and not whine too much.  When he left this morning and said he would see me in 14 hours, he wasn't exaggerating.  And it wouldn't surprise me if it was longer than 14 hours.

One of our morning rituals is reading the paper together over coffee, before he rushes off to work.  When I was working, this didn't happen.  I went into the office before he was even awake, so he was left alone in a dark empty house every morning- suffering through an endless variety of K cups instead of the strong pot of freshly ground coffee that I now have waiting on him once he's showered and dressed.  So no matter what time he gets up, I'm up too.  I suppose I could have gone back to bed this morning- it was still dark out, and is supposed to be rainy all day.  But once I'm up I never do, I'm not much of a sleeper. Yesterday he worked in the yard all day laying stones around the flower beds for me, trimming hedges, digging up some bulbs that need to be transplanted. Together we made a video of him taking the Ice Bucket Challenge so we could post it online. I worked in the house doing laundry, vacuuming, scrubbing down the kitchen. It was a nice Sunday at home.  So for my Monday, it's going to be a nicer chore-free day and I will try my hardest not to feel guilty about that.  I will read, I will work on pottery, I will catch up on emails.  Every morning, just for laughs, J reads our horoscopes.  "Let's see what kind of day you're going to have" he tells me each time.  We try to dissect and predict the meaning of each other's- oh that must mean I'm going to do laundry today, or that must mean your boss is going to forget your meeting this afternoon.  And then, for extra fun, he picks one word to replace with another nonsensical one, to make me laugh- or to see if I'm really listening.  Today my horoscope said I should be "in neutral" and do something that I enjoy. Hey, the heavenly stars don't have to tell me twice, and who am I to argue with the universe?

I don't take for granted those few short minutes every day that we spend together, and I don't intend to miss out on them.  I have friends who are already widows.  I have friends who have husbands that barely grunt at them.  I have friends who bicker with their spouses to the point that I want to say, geez why are you two still married?  Having already gone through a drawn out (shitty) marriage and (long overdue) divorce, I understand how wonderful and amazing it is to have someone like J in my life.  It's been almost 11 years for us.  It's crazy because I was with W for 13 years, yet that seems like it was just a blink of an eye compared to what I have, what I've done and seen, who I've become since I've been with J.  Maybe it's maturity, I don't know.  As a young wife in my 20's, with a young husband fresh out of college and still acting like a moron, it was challenging to say the least.  And people change and grow- sometimes they grow closer but many times, like in my case, they grow so far apart that it would be like building a bridge from California to Hawaii in order to continue on as a couple.

If a repeat of this weekend, this morning was my life from this day forward, I would be pretty happy.  I know many times my depression seems to make me "think" I'm not happy, I'm not satisfied with my life, that I'm not in a good place.  But I know logically that I am.  There really isn't anything that could make it better.  I don't have the typical worries that many people do, I don't really have any genuine fears hovering over my shoulder.  Sure I could sit and fret over what would happen to me, if something awful happened to J, but that is pointless and if my mind does wander there I quickly rope it back the other way. Depression and anxiety definitely screws with your brain, and your thought process, it steals your bliss, it makes your body freeze up when you are simply getting ready to head out to the grocery store and you start worrying about being hit by a truck and oh my god, will J end up with someone else once I'm dead and will he love her more and oh my god I don't want my husband touching another woman.  Yeah, really, my head does go there sometimes, and that's f*cked up and crazy and, well, sometimes I can't help it.  I do wish J understood my depression better, although maybe it's my fault for not wanting to burden him with the true depths of it.  He is still under the impression that if I would take my vitamins, eat better, exercise, and get sunshine, it would make it all better, make it all go away.  I know he is being sweet and thoughtful, not dismissive.  He doesn't understand that the depression is truly like a physical weight that is pushing me down, smothering me, sitting on my chest and damn well suffocating me.  He's seen me in the middle of a panic attack before, but he doesn't see the pain, the fear, the uncontrollable reactions.

I do tend to focus on the negative, and I think J has come to expect that and be okay with it.  For instance, this weekend I was busy working on some things for our next vacation in three weeks, to New England.  I was planning a day trip along the coast of Maine, all the quaint little towns and shops and diners.  After a few hours of research on the computer, and compiling and mapping out a list of places to visit, I started the conversation with J this way- "As long as we don't have bad weather, I think we'll enjoy it" and his response was to look over at me with a genuine warm smile and simply say "We will have a good time".  I couldn't help myself, not even then.  I had to worry about rain, three weeks from now, in another state.  That is me.  SO me.  I don't know which is the chicken and which is the egg- does depression trigger anxiety, or does the constant anxiety cause the depression?  Does it matter, when you are in the grips of both? Instead of casting aside my worries as ridiculous, J always talks to me about why I'm thinking that way.  He gives alternatives, makes me walk through the issue step by step and tries to offer better solutions, real solutions, instead of that sheer screaming thought that I won't be able to manage it, I won't be able to do it. He is very much like a therapist, with the voice of calm and reason.  I guess that's because he's spent his entire life in management and handles the crises of employees every day.  He is paid big bucks to remain cool and to find the answers and to guide people.  I am glad that is deeply ingrained in his soul and that he brings it home to me every day, because I need it.  Without him, I would fly off the handle and just keep spinning out of control.  I know I have a few deep fears that J can never fix- like driving through big cities- but on a day to day basis he keeps me at least 90% sane.

I know my blog seems disjointed, repetitive.  Sometimes I have it already planned, what I want to post about.  Most of the time, I just write what I'm feeling or thinking at the moment- whether it's rehashing the past or fretting over the future.  Sometimes, like today, it turns into something else.

My depression wasn't what I wanted to talk about today, but when I sat down at the blog, I decided to just block out what I really wanted to post about. Instead I decided to try and focus on the positive- like the morning paper and coffee with J- and think on the things that aren't causing me anxiety.  I spent way too many hours over the weekend dwelling on things that made me immobile with fear and worries and a swarm of "what if" questions buzzing nonstop in my head.  Until I started to have a migraine, until my chest started to hurt with the pressure of not being able to take a deep breath, until I wanted to cry but instead rubbed my eyes raw trying to stave off the tears.  Right now J is the one feeling the stress and he needs me to be strong and support him, and that is something that I can do.  Change can be good, I have to keep telling myself that.  And I have to remember that no matter what, J is going to be there for me, with me, no matter where we are at or what we are going through.  And I keep telling myself that I make issues into potentially bigger problems, but it's just a symptom of the anxiety, and it doesn't have to be my reality.

MISS GEE

A Crisis of Being

I've definitely been feeling that old sense of worthlessness lately, and I don't know why.  On a whim I decided to browse online last night, wishing to stumble upon perhaps a blog or chat group, for people who feel the same way I am feeling.  My search was for "childless housewives".  I was hoping to find a support group, anything.  Everything I found was super old, nothing current.  One blog that I found to be newer, I checked her most recent posts and found she is now pregnant, so no longer relevant for me.

I found one odd website where people just write in questions and leave it open to anyone's response.  A woman wrote the passage below, and even her title struck a familiar spot inside me.  I could have easily written this post!

***WHAT AM I NOW?
I recently became a homemaker without kids, and I'm feeling weird about it.  I used to have a busy professional practice. I developed a serious chronic illness, struggled with work for some years, then finally had to take some time off from work. During this absence, my husband and I discovered that we are both much happier to have me at home. I was never that crazy about work, we get along fine without the money, and our lives are more enjoyable because I'm not constantly exhausted and miserable and have the time and energy to do things to make our life nicer, basic things like cooking and cleaning and doing leisure activities that I never had the energy to do before. We are now thinking that perhaps I just won't return to work. I can do whatever I like--work part time, pick up some work now and less work later, whatever; it's a family business and it's all very flexible. However, the social aspects of this change are very confusing to me. When people ask me what I do, I still say "I'm a [member of a certain profession]." This feels like a lie. I'm not really working right now and don't know if I will in the future. People know that I'm home and not at work. But it feels to me that unless you're extremely wealthy or extremely poor, it's socially unacceptable to be "just a housewife." I am adamantly opposed to going around telling people about my health problems. I'm a private person. And I'm not disabled, I just don't have the physical stamina or mental acuity to work the way I used to, and, well, life is just better this way. The problem is not only how to present myself to new acquaintances, but also how to frame my new life to myself. It seems that if you have kids, even if they're in school all day, it's okay to stay home. You're a stay-at-home mom. Or if you are an artist, or a writer, then it's okay to stay home, even if you make hardly any money at it. If you have enough money, then it's okay to spend all your time with your horses or whatever. But I don't fall into any of these categories and I fear, quite reasonably, I think, that people with think of me disparagingly.  Am I wrong? How would you view someone in my situation? Can you help me find a way to frame this both to myself and to others? Thank you.***

Wow, I wanted to reach out to this person and say YES, this is me, this is how I feel and I thought I was the only one out there!  But it was posted anonymously. And in 2011.  There were plenty of responses, and I would say they were all positive.  Lots of other folks wrote to say they are in a similar situation.  Others wrote to say there is absolutely nothing "wrong" with not working "by choice" and living off one income.

J is happy with our decision, as long as I am happy with it.  I'm not UNhappy being at home.  I'm almost 50. I worked full time- sometimes 7 days a week and two jobs at a time, sometimes 12-14 hour days, sometimes working all day while going to school at night, and all of it while juggling the duties of wife- for 30 years. I should just recognize how fortunate I am, that we can pay the bills on one paycheck and still have a bit left on which to have some fun.

I still struggle with my current identity, as the writer above stated- Who Am I Now?  When people meet us they ask what we do, and we all answer with our job titles and company name.  No one ever says, yeah I just sit around the house all day doing nothing.  Sure I could say I'm an artist and give the name of my Etsy shop and hand them one of my business cards, but even to suggest it sounds lame.  That's not a "real" job, it's not a "real" business.  When people ask J he gladly states that I make pottery and sell it online, but I think he over-exaggerates it a bit like a proud parent lovingly boasting of their first-grader's accomplishments.  If I answer that I'm a housewife, I think of June Cleaver, mopping floors with her starched apron while a roasted rack of lamb sizzles in the oven for dinner.  Anyone who reads my blog, knows that my cooking and cleaning skills leave a lot to be desired.  A lot.  But I have an amazing husband who takes it all in stride and never complains, never asks for more, never demands.  He just wants my good health and happiness, my smiles.  He just wants a kiss and hug every morning before he goes off for the day.  He wants the same to welcome him home every evening.  I give all of that and more, gratefully.

So do I even need an "identity", one that the public accepts?  Do I care if I don't have one?  Is an identity just a fancy word for a label, a box that society feels the need to put me in?  People never ask, who are you, they always ask what do you do?  Why do I have to "do"- can't I just BE?  Can't I just be me, and have that be enough?  I know I should just be satisfied with the arrangement J and I have between us, of me staying home from now on, and have that be enough and all that matters as long as the two of us are happy with it.  Can my job not be "making a big fresh salad for my husband's dinner instead of forcing him to eat Taco Bell every night?"  I was raised by a career-before-she-had-kids-stay-at-home mom who, even after my sister and I were older, never went back to work. I asked my dad recently about that, he said he never once wanted my mom to go work outside of the house ever again, and he didn't resent her for being at home while he went off to a tough job every day.  J is okay with me being at home, why can't I be okay with it?  Is this just part of my chronic depression, that I never feel like I'm worth a damn, like no matter what I do or don't do it will never be good enough?  And good enough for who- me, J, everyone else?  J loves me the way I am, and there is no "everyone else" as far as I'm concerned.  So it must be ME that I have a problem with.

I am not interested in pleasing anyone else out there.  J and I both recognize that everything is so much better now that I'm at home.  Life is easier for him, he has less worries, less chores, less stressful moments, better meals, a cleaner home.  Life is better for me.  If I could just get rid of the guilt, if I could just give up the idea that I have to be an "equal" partner and on that issue how society really just means one thing- money.  I could never in a million years make the salary J makes, even working those 12 hour days I could only bring home about a third of what he does.  So why do I think of myself as less of a person for it?  He reminds me of how much money we are saving by me staying at home, in hopes of lifting my melancholy, of raising my self-worth.

J tries his darnedest to always boost my spirits.  He heaps praise on me- I know he is being sincere in his own way, but I know the praise is not deserved.  I don't want him to be one of those husbands who feels the burden of always bolstering my moods.  That's not his job, that's not his function in the relationship.  J always seems to put my needs before his own, and I in turn try to put his needs before mine.  It always balances out in some crazy way.  Maybe that's what marriage is all about, maybe that's why it's working for me this time around.  When I was working full time, I spent all my energy on the job, and I had nothing left for home, for J, for our marriage.

If someone asks me, "so what do you do?", why should I be embarrassed at saying I stay at home and make sure my husband has clean clothes to wear, has lunch to take to work every day, has his prescriptions always filled, has a neat and tidy living room to relax in every evening, has clean bed linens to settle into at night.  Where is the shame in that?  And I'm sorry that I couldn't do ALL of that PLUS work 60 hours a week at the office. Maybe that just means I suck at being a woman. Still, isn't it noble, to take care of one's home and hearth and family? Okay, so it really means I spend my mornings scrubbing up cat vomit and clipping coupons and unloading the dishwasher- but aren't those things that must be done anyhow?  J is the only person in the world that matters to me, what he thinks, what he feels, how he's coping with life.  I don't want to seem as though my entire "being" is wrapped up around my husband, but if my identity is wife, lover, partner, friend, soulmate, cook, secretary, homemaker, whatever- then I know I should be happy with that, because he's happy with that.  I guess, screw the rest of the world, I don't have to answer to them.  Well, that's what I want to say anyhow.  But in my head, I can't let go of the thought process that makes me ask- and forces me to answer- who and what the hell am I?  And am I ever going to be good enough?

MISS GEE

Motionless

Right now I am preoccupied with thoughts about turning my life upside down, and I'm trying NOT to have those thoughts.  But by trying not to think about it, it's ALL that I do think about!  This is one of those moments where my anxiety level shrieks at me, over something that probably will not even happen.  But my mind apparently doesn't understand that this is just a drill, it thinks this is an emergency.

J recently applied for a new job.  With another company.  In another city.

I know I've gone through this before.  It's how we ended up here in 2008 in the first place.  And we went through this back in 2012 when J put in for a promotion, the one he didn't get after being told he was their number one choice.  Moving for J's career is nothing new, and I've always expected it to happen again eventually.  This time feels different, we are being sneaky and deceptive, because J has applied for a job with a big competitor.  We haven't even shared it with our family.  J's company would grab him up and march him out the front door today, if they found out.  Yes, really really.  We've seen it before. Truth is, there are currently a lot of situations at work that have many employees leaving in droves.  Like, quitting without any notice whatsoever.  And a lot of them are going to the company where J just sent his resume.

J has worked at his company for almost 18 years now, since he was 30.  But he's about as far as he's going to get where he's at currently, and not only is my husband ready and excited for the challenge to do more in the future, he's dreadfully unhappy and feeling stuck right now.  He is so unhappy he actually vomits before heading off to work on a lot of mornings.  He tries to hide it from me, or brush it off as "nothing", but I of all people understand how emotions and nerves and feelings sometimes come spewing out of you in the form of nasty bile.

For my dear husband, I hope with all my heart he gets exactly what he wants.  If he truly wants this job with a new company, a fresh start, then this is my wish for him. He's had a corporate recruiter after him for almost two years now, with phone calls and emails that are always politely dismissed.  But two weeks ago, when the fellow called yet again, J listened with an open mind and decided that the time is now right.  He has put aside his loyalties to his company, because very soon that company and all it stood for, will be nothing more than a footnote in Wikipedia somewhere after a big merger with a larger corporation.  The company name, the company logo, the company pride and high standards, with cease to exist as of September.

And after having said all of that, my anxiety stems from the fact that yes, we would have to move again.  The new job is north of "the big city" and we live south.  Almost 100 miles, and with the traffic through the city, it makes for a two hour commute one way.  And the simple fact is, J will always work 12 hour days and how in the world could he tack on another 4 hours of driving, every day?  He can't, and I wouldn't let him.  He said maybe he could do it for a short while, but not permanently.

So as it stands today, the only thing we know from the corporate recruiter is that J's resume has made it to the right person at this company.  That's it.  I think J has a very likely chance of getting an interview in the upcoming weeks, and I think he has a fair chance at being a top contender.  Will he get the job?  I don't know.  To me, he's number one, but out there in the corporate world there could be a dozen of competent, qualified people just like J who have put in for the job.  J is always worried that, even with his years of real world experience and accomplishments, he will not be considered because he never finished college.

My anxieties are for J, but more than that, my anxieties are about potentially moving again and all that it entails.  Nothing, absolutely nothing has happened that would indicate that we will have to move anytime soon.  But because there is a tiny little cloud of chance floating out there, my brain has turned it into a 100% warning of thunderstorms with hurricane force winds.  I have already started looking at houses online, and had a genuine panic attack yesterday when one of my "favorites" had sold.  Really?  REALLY??!!  This, simply because my husband turned in a piece of paper to some guy.

This is how my stupid, damn brain works.  Why can't I just sit back and relax, and enjoy the butterfly garden my husband worked so hard to build for me- instead of looking at all the plants saying "I'm going to dig them all up and take them with me when we move."

MISS GEE

On Even Ground

Yes, I'm still here, for anyone who is reading me- which I don't think anyone is.  And I've said before, that's okay, because the blog is for me to sort through my life.  I know depression and chronic pain are unfortunately commonplace these days, for people in all walks of life all over the globe.  My story is only unique to me- when compared to the rest of the world, I blend in like one small leaf on a giant tree.  I honestly wish I blogged every single day, but I don't want to. Some days I don't want to rehash my life, I don't even want to think about things.  I just want to muddle through and know that millions of other people out there are doing the same thing, and it's okay for all of us to be that way.  But today is a blustery, cloudy day with an approaching thunderstorm.  I don't want to run into town and get caught in it.  I don't want to go out and settle down in the garden to work or read.  Even with the lamps on it's too dark in the house to take photos for Etsy or see my pottery well enough to work on fine details.  So, why not check in on the blog.

Truth is, I've been okay lately, so not feeling the need to pour out and dissect what's floating around in my brain.  I would say I've been even keel the last month or two.  Maybe it's the sunshine and the flowers of summer.  Maybe it was the entire month of June, of J having to work nights and being home with me during the day for about five weeks straight.  Maybe it was having two solid weeks in May, of out-of-town company staying with us, much loved family that we enjoy having here.  Maybe it was our very lovely, relaxing, fun visit earlier this month to Lake Tahoe.  Maybe it was all that combined time of me not staying alone in the house day after day, and instead having people always around me to take my mind off my own issues.  I don't know, I will never know.  There is no pattern to my depression- when it strikes, when it eases up.  I've learned to accept both, and right now it seems like for the first time in a really long time, my downs don't outnumber my ups.  And that is cool.

I still deal with the physical pains, but right now I'm trying every home remedy I can find in the herbal books, to keep from having to get on any kind of prescription.  The aches in my joints have been staggering, but a homemade herbal liniment rubbed into my knees, wrists, ankles, lower back has been surprisingly effective.  I even finally started yoga and although I have weeks where the pain is too severe to bend my legs into the poses, I found that the basic class has nearly eradicated my back and hip problems.  Yep, I know, I would say it's hell getting old but I wouldn't trade my 40's for anything.  Despite the pains, I like the person I am now, the life that I have now, a hundred times better than my 30's and definitely a million times better than my 20's.  The confidence and maturity of being almost 50 is priceless.  My 20's I was an immature, stupid, backwards wreck of a girl.

I know the "next stage" of my life is upon me.  My periods have been slowly tapering off.  Last year I only had three.  This year, I had one the first week of January but none since.  I will be 48 this year, it's certainly expected.  I have no feelings about it one way or the other.  I know some women get sentimental about their periods ending, but as for me, the sooner the better!  I don't look at menopause as an emotional ending to my womanhood.  It's strictly physiological, and as long as I can get through the symptoms naturally, I'll be okay.  My mother went through it using prescriptions, and has had (and survived) two different types of cancer related to the drugs.  I'm not doing that.  

For awhile I was suffering with raging hot flashes, and unless I was sitting directly in front of a fan- even in the winter- they were so bad I sometimes felt as though I would pass out.  But leaving my job has cured many of those menopausal ills.  With my stress level falling away, the hot flashes, high blood pressure, and even the migraines have become such small inconveniences in my life that I barely notice them.  As for the sleep issues, I decided as soon as the insomnia hit that I wasn't going to turn to prescriptions for that either.  After a long dependence on Tylenol PM, months ago I finally turned to natural remedies- melatonin, valerian, lavender, tryptophan- to send me off to sweet lullabies every night.  And it all works just as well, without the lingering guilt or concern for overdoing the over the counter chemicals.

Everything has been a process, but it continues.  I try to do more of the right things.  More natural cleaners and less chemicals in the house.  Less coffee and more hot tea.  Stevia instead of white sugar.  More exercise and less glaring at the computer.  Less meat, more organic foods.  More sunshine, less hiding away in the house.  Less frivolous shopping and more trips to drop off bags at Goodwill.  I don't know if any of it makes a damn bit of difference in the way I feel, but it sure can't hurt.  So why not?  Why not try something different, something better?  Even J has swapped his processed instant oatmeal breakfast, for a morning smoothie made from organic spinach, strawberries, and flax seed.  I know he feels much better and his weight loss continues while his health improves.  We will both always backslide with that big greasy gourmet burger, loaded down, with a heap of fries and rings.  And I'm trying my hardest not to beat myself up about those moments, despite my own losing battle with the bulge.

So life is going on right now, at a fairly easy plodding pace, and I'm okay with it.  Mountain peaks always have deep valleys, and sometimes it's better to stay on the gentle, flat pathway for awhile, to avoid those low shadowy places.  We have some big, giant, enormous changes that are potentially coming our way, and for the moment I'm content to ignore them, to stay even-tempered, getting neither excited nor frantic because it may or may not happen.  Despite the mundane suburban middle-aged life that I lead, there are still unexpected upheavals that happen.  And even with "good" changes, the nerves get raw and the anxiety levels grow.  

What is that little phrase from World War II that I see everywhere these days?  Keep calm and carry on?  

Taking a deep breath today, and I'll be back very soon.

MISS GEE

Green, Not Blue, One Year Later

Spring has been good to me this year so far, our trees are green and my first bulbs have bloomed. We have bluebirds nesting in three of our boxes. It's still chilly here, brisk, but inviting me outside every afternoon to work in the garden, or sit in the driveway to read in the sunshine and watch the bees bending stems as they kiss the newest flowers.  I don't normally look forward to spring so much, because I've always liked staying buried deep down in the cold and dark of winter.  That season always suited me, always matched my emotions.  This year winter did not have its normal comforting, cocoon-like effect on me, it instead smothered me. So I am now well past ready for it to be gone.  It seems to be slinking away slowly.  I am ready for spring, I am ready to feel rejuvenated, I am ready to come alive.

I've been at home now for a year.  No miraculous changes have taken place, and learning to be satisfied with that has been a difficult task for me.  I expected a drastic makeover of my entire life- body, home, business.  I frankly expected to become a totally different person.  Yet here I am, still me.  Having been so goal-oriented, so to-do-list crazy at my job for SO very long, it's been weird staying at home and just being.  It was last April that I spent those few but long days and nights in a hospital bed with needles stuck in me and wires attached to every naked surface, constantly being awakened to have an orderly roll me off to yet another machine, another test.  It was the beginning of May when I settled down into my new life as the happy homemaker.  One year, but it seems like so much longer.  In some ways I feel as though I haven't made as much progress as I had hoped- especially with my weight loss efforts.  But in other ways, I'm miles beyond that point in my life from last April.  I feel so much better, I feel so much lighter.  I am feeling things other than hate and anger and blackness. Occasionally I even like myself.

I don't have a clear path on what I want to do with my life.  Some days it's enough to just be able to function.  The days when chronic pain makes it damn near impossible to even sit in a chair comfortably, heck I am ecstatic if my main accomplishment is unloading the dishwasher that morning.  The days when my depression is overwhelming, I can only get lost in a good book and count the hours down, hoping that tomorrow will be better.  Some days it is, some days it isn't.  But that's my life, that's life for a lot of people.  I am not unique in that aspect.  Dealing with it, accepting it, is getting easier for me as time goes by.  I don't have to fight the depression, wearing myself out. I don't have to turn every day into a battle and drown in anger.  Depression is a wave, and I'm finally learning to surf!  It's been so much better, being able to tell myself it's just one day, maybe two, but it doesn't undo all the good days, the great days, the magical moments I get to spend with J.

The days of wanting to cease to exist, just to escape the pain of both my body and my soul, seem to be finally over.  I don't feel that way anymore.  I don't get behind the wheel and want to crash my car into a pole.  The pain is temporary, the sad feelings are fleeting and momentary and they WILL be gone eventually. I know they will return, but I don't sit around feeling anxious anymore about when that next brick wall will come tumbling down over me, burying me in the dark and heaviness that is my depression.  It does suck, depression.  But there are things in my life that are stronger, there are things in my life that I love and want to experience fully.  A year ago, depression controlled every waking second of my life, it had a rope tight around my neck and pulled me around wherever it felt like dragging me, places I didn't want to go.  Pretty soon I started digging in my heels and it became a tug-of-war match, and I said no way.  Now the depression is the shadow behind me- it's always there, even on sunny days, but I'm in the lead and in charge and it can only trail quietly after me.  I never forget it's there, but I don't always have to look at it.

My life and my moods will always go up and down, and although that's true with everyone else out there, those of us with severe depression understand that our roller coaster ride is just a little more scary than the rest of the world.  Having the year "off" has made me realize that the depression is inside me, it's part of me, it IS me.  A stressful job, asshole friends, traffic, weather, diet, menopause, chronic pain, all play a part in how I feel, but they aren't the cause of it, and nothing is ever going to make the depression go away completely.  True, I'm not on medication, and maybe that would make those bad days more bearable, but I'm okay with feeling the bad days lately.  I understand a bad day, even an awful day when I can't see the light and it just hurts to be awake, is still okay and I'm still alive and I still have J, my family, my home, my precious kitties.  Bad days just make the good days taste even sweeter.

Perhaps over this past year I haven't accomplished much in the way of career or finances or diet or DIY home projects. But maybe that will come, going forward, now that my emotional burdens have lessened.  The fact that I feel so much better these days, is in itself a major goal, a self-remodeling project.  And tomorrow or next week, whenever a really horrible day greets me- and it will, it's always coming- I know it won't get the best of me.  I know I won't let it turn into a bad week, or a bad month.  I will gather up a paperback, a big glass of iced coffee, my horde of fuzzy babies, and I'll soak in the sunshine on the back deck for awhile, listening to the crows and squirrels all chattering in the trees, and let that bright yellow heat burn away the black pain.

Last year we went to J's late grandmother's old home- his parents still own the property and it's been untouched except for routine yard work.  We dug up several of her azaleas and brought them on a 300 mile ride back to our yard.  J's father said we were wasting our time, we were transplanting them too late in the year, it was too hot, they wouldn't survive.  But we did it anyhow, J said his grandfather had planted the azaleas long ago when he was still alive, and his grandmother had continued to nurture them all those many years after his passing.  And I sit here right now looking out the office window, and I can see the big pink and white flowers around the mailbox out at the street.  They did survive- being uprooted, being transplanted at the wrong time of their life cycle- and they are quite alive and full of color, full of renewal and green life and the best things in this world.  They are my metaphor for today.

MISS GEE

(J putting up a bird feeder for his granny on a Mother's Day several years ago- and the azaleas we eventually brought home to our yard to remember her by.)

As Time Goes By

I apologize right off the bat if I've posted on this subject in the past, but it's been on my mind lately.

One of my biggest struggles in life is that despite the fact that I turn 48 this year, I have never ever felt like an adult, like a grown-up.  I used to tell myself it was because I didn't have the responsibility of children, but I'm not sure that is even the real reason.  Last week one of my older relatives told me that she thought of me as "ageless".  I'm not sure if she was making a comment on my looks, the way I act, or just me being me.  And a longtime friend referred to me recently as a "lady of leisure" which I took offense to, but I'm not quite sure I should have.  I don't think she meant it as a snub- this friend who worked two jobs as a single mother of three boys- but I automatically became defensive and that's how I took it.  Someone without responsibilities.

On Facebook I see the friends I went to high school with, planning our class reunion for this summer- 30th!- and there are photos of their children getting married or graduating college, and lots of photos of grandchildren too.  Wow.

I do admit, I have always equated being an adult with working hard, and I think of immaturity and laziness going hand in hand.  And I have always been, at the end of the day, lazy.  Even when I was working 13 hour days, even when I was working two full-time jobs at the same time back in my early 30's.  I thought of myself as lazy because once I got home, I totally shut down, I was totally wiped out.  Physically, mentally.  A responsible adult would have shaken it off and grabbed the vacuum at 10pm because the carpet was in desperate need of cleaning, and 10pm was the only time to get it done.  But I was crawling into bed at 9:30 at night, cussing myself out because I saw that dirty carpet and told myself, I'll get to it later.  It made me feel like less of an adult.  Really.  Ignoring dishes in the sink or stains on the carpet, are things fraternity boys do, because they don't care.  Because they are immature.  Because they are not adults.

And maybe my depression does play a part in how I feel about it.  I don't have the energy, the drive, the desire that most people do.  I still give in to impulses, I can still waste precious time on doing nothing.  Adults don't do that.  Adults focus on the task at hand and complete it.  Adults are responsible for the space and world around them.  I got a really late start in life, compared to most of my other friends.  Oh I had boyfriends early on, and went out, had friends, went to parties, did plenty of after school activities, joined clubs, traveled with the marching band, blah blah.  But I was painfully shy back then too.  I was so shy, I couldn't even pick up the phone and call to order a pizza.  And if someone else made the call, I was too shy to go to the front door when the delivery arrived.

I still lived at home into my early 20's, even when I was going to college.  My mother didn't work outside the home, and she did all the housework.  Whether I was at school, or at work, when I came home the house was clean, my laundry was done, dinner was ready, and she even made my bed.  Yep.  When I moved out, it was to move in with my first husband.  I had a lot to learn, and I would schlep back home with dirty clothes so mommy would wash not only mine, but his as well.  I only lived about two miles away.  Many afternoons she would sneak over to my apartment, to let our dog out for a potty break, but she would end up washing last night's pots and pans still sitting on the stove, or scrubbing up the bathrooms.

I moved out of state when I was 30, no mom around to lean on.  Yet I never really grew up.  One of my secret burdens was that I was scared to drive.  Didn't even learn how until I was 30, and I had to because I was alone in a strange place and my ex worked on the road during the week.  I think not driving until I was twice the legal age to get a learner's permit, stunted my venture into adulthood beyond repair.  I was always dependent on someone else- parents, W, the county bus line- to get me to where I wanted to be.  How healthy is that?  It's not like I lived in New York City where everyone takes public transportation.  I lived on a tiny Gulf town for cryin' out loud.  If I wanted to go out to the beach, I took the bus, or asked my mom.  In fact, my parents even dropped me off at the restaurant for my first date with W.  I was 24!!

I can remember once when an encyclopedia salesman- you youngsters don't remember those days- asked over the phone if I could meet him to look at the set I was interested in.  I told him I didn't drive, and the first thing he asked me was, oh are you handicapped?  So, "not" driving as an adult automatically signaled to a stranger that something must be wrong with me.  Of course his question was grossly insensitive and I got offended and although I truly intended to buy the encyclopedias, I instead told him no thanks and hung up.

A good friend had a hard rock band in those days, and actually had two albums released.  In the liner notes, where the band gives thanks to all their supporters, he listed my nickname as "No License To Drive".  Yeah, really.  Funny at the time, but that was apparently how people saw me in those days.  Years later, when I would run into classmates I hadn't seen in forever, almost every person asked me right away, so are you driving yet?  Totally totally embarrassing.

I'm not shy anymore, and I drive like a pro now.  But I still don't feel like I ever reached that threshold, the one that separates the crazy, irresponsible 20-somethings from the old middle-aged, menopausal housewives.  I know my "age", and I feel it in my bones every morning when I get up, but I don't feel it in my heart.  When you have no one to answer to, how do you define your place in life?  My parents always babied me, J has always taken care of me.  I've never had that defining sink or swim moment, besides the year I was going through my divorce.  But in the great master plan of life, that seems like the blink of an eye now.  I had support- family, friends- so the only responsibility I had was showing up at the right courtroom at the right time.

I suppose there are pros and cons to not having heavy burdens in life.  Feeling young at heart, as the saying goes.  But I also feel like a phony, a fake, someone pretending to be all grown-up.  I feel like someone is going to point their finger and laugh, because they've found me out.  A scared girl, incapable, hiding in the body of a tired old woman.

MISS GEE

---Home Sweet Home---

Streamlining

I meant to post when we got back from vacation, but I've been so busy I really haven't had the time to sit down at any of my blogs.  But that's a good thing. When I'm happy and upbeat, I don't think much about this blog, and that's not fair.  This blog deserves more than just my whining and dark thoughts.  This blog was intended to be my "truthful" and honest blog, and the truth is I've been feeling pretty damn great lately.

While J and I were on vacation, as we always do, we had time to devote to long deep conversations about our lives.  One of the things we both agreed on is, it really is time to declutter, from every nook and cranny.  Time to unload all the junk- from our home, our bodies, our day to day existence, from our future. Time to make better choices going forward, time to give every action real thought and not just cave to the old impulses.  To simplify our immediate world.

When we got home, we decided to open up a second Etsy shop, one devoted to just vintage items.  I had sold a few vintage pieces in my regular shop, but didn't list much because I didn't want to have that overshadow my pottery.  So, I separated everything into a new shop.  We have been digging through the basement, finding things that serve no purpose, have no meaning, in our current life together.  Some of the items are things from our pre-together days, some of them are from high school!  A lot of items are just things we bought at auctions or flea markets for some fleeting moment of joy, but now we stare at these things and say: You know, I really hate that vase after all.  Or, why did we buy that?  Those are the things that have no reason to take up the space around us. Things that serve no purpose in our lives, don't need to be in our lives.  Simple as that.  We've been having fun opening up all those dusty boxes, crowded into the dark corners, and wow hey look at this!  I forgot we even had this!  It's cool, but, what do we need to keep it for?

If it's been boxed up in a closet or down in the basement for all these years, why do we have it?  Maybe these things are better off with someone else, who will enjoy them and use them, give them a proper warm welcome into their home.  We donate to Goodwill quite frequently, but we have some items that have a bit of value, and we decided why not try to sell them?  So it's been a new adventure, and so far it's going well.  I have a dining room table filled with things ready to be photographed and listed.  And J has tasked me to list a lot of his sports memorabilia on eBay, and frankly that's selling like crazy.  He says I'm pricing things way too low.  I said I know, but we decided the reason we are doing this is to make certain we end up with more space, not necessarily more money.  Yesterday I sold something from my high school days (early 1980's) for $35.  J told me to ask $50 for it.  I sold it within hours of listing it, and he said that proved I should have asked more.  I told him, hey, that's a box gone from the basement and $35 we didn't have the day before.  And it was for something meaningless to me now, from 30 years ago, that I'm sure my parents probably paid for anyhow.  He finally said yes, you are right.  I say a lower sell price or starting bid, is almost a guaranteed sale.  And that means, the item is as good as gone from our home.  That is our goal, after all.

My other Etsy shop is doing well, in fact I've been getting so many emails for custom orders that I had to say no more for awhile, until I can get caught up with the requests I've received.  The custom orders are great, but being creative is even better.  I love to look at other shops on Etsy, but I'm oh so careful that I don't copy anyone else's work.  Sometimes I come up with an idea and think this has to be unique, only to find someone else is already making it.  But that's okay too. Heck, I even took the time to make something for myself because dang, I deserve it! I won't get rich at $5 a crack, but what's most important to me is that I'm enjoying it.  It's been a long time since I was able to say, I am enjoying my life, I am enjoying my days, I am enjoying being alive!  I am feeling like I have a purpose, and I haven't felt that in awhile.  I've even found pleasure in driving the back country roads into town, to go to the post office, to have a real reason to get out of the house and into the world but not be sucked into it against my will. The windows down, the radio on, the sun on my face.  Simple.

 MISS GEE

Smiling This Week

Today I have to write a happy post.  I have to get out of that hole of negativity.  I've been feeling better the last few days, and I want to keep on riding that roller coaster up to the peak!

I know I vowed at the beginning of the year to have more positive energy and try to be more upbeat.  To blog more often, but "less" each time.  This week has been pretty decent, it's been super cold but sunny.  I can deal with that.  J and I have been having good talks lately, I think because he is so very down about his job right now.  It seems that when he hates his job the most, is the time he focuses more on his real life.  He's extremely gung-ho right now about paying off the debt we have scattered about here and there.  Not much compared to some, but enough that we need to tackle it now.  Our house will be paid off in three years, his new truck this summer.  He is getting ready to make the final payment on a small 401K loan we had to take out a few years back.  He said just paying off that loan will bring home an extra $500 a month on his paycheck.  Woo-Hoo!  But right now he's in a saving mode, not a spending mode.  I'm okay with that! I would say our debt is average, and although we are no longer bringing in a second income, it's amazing how much our expenses have been cut back just by me staying at home.  Gas, food out, dressy clothes.  I drive my car so infrequently now, I probably only fill up every other month, instead of every week.

Last night as we were huddled in our warm living room watching TV, J reflected on the past 10+ years saying he didn't know where he would be if he hadn't met me.  He joked he'd be face down in the gutter somewhere- when I met him he smoked two packs a day and drank heavily every night.  He quit the cigarettes cold turkey about 7-8 years ago, and only has the rare occasional drink these days- to relax and enjoy, not to become numb and forget.  Back when I started seeing him in 2003 he spent all his free time in bars- he ate all his meals there, found all his entertainment there (video games, pool, darts), and if he wasn't at work or asleep at home, he was in his favorite neighborhood grub pub with a large pizza and Jack and Coke.

And J's lost about 50-60 pounds since we first met.  I would like to think it all has to do with me- what wife doesn't want that ego booster?- but I think it's also just a sign of maturity.  Moving from your thirties into your forties, and then staring down fifty.  He went from having his car keys taken away at the pool hall on Friday nights, to taking his blood sugar readings every morning.  Age or my influence, I'm not sure, but whatever the reason I'm glad for the changes.  And I hope it means he'll be around with me for a very long time to come.  I have a friend with a husband who said he would rather eat a pack of cookies and just take his insulin shots, and nothing she can say or do will change him.  I'm delighted that I have a husband who is more than willing and eager to take control of his own health, without my nagging.  Then again, I wonder about where I would be if I hadn't met J.  He rescued me from my abusive first marriage and offered me a safe and comfortable future, and I don't think I would ever have had the courage to leave my ex if it wasn't for J.

Maybe I'm in a better mood because this weekend we leave for a vacation.  Our life together has always centered around travel, and even though this year we plan to take less expensive trips, we do need our vacations to stay sane.  We are headed to my hometown- we usually go once a year and for some reason we didn't make it down there in 2013.  We're going to take the first three days on the road to meander somewhat, and be alone, before we go rolling into my parents' driveway.  I have mentioned before, my hometown is actually a sunny gulf beach, so it's not like we're headed off to a prison camp.  But once we get to my parents house, it's difficult for J and I to find quiet alone time- they want to go everywhere and do everything with us and of course, we feel obligated because we technically are there to see them.  I know, you're saying, you don't have children, all you have is alone time every day!  It's not the same.

It's not the same at home when you're clearing away dinner dishes or trimming hedges or sorting through boxes in the basement.  Yes, it's just me and J, but the cobwebs and dust in the garage won't ever compare to soft white sand between your toes.  I have trouble believing those commercials on TV where the couples are out there in the yard pulling weeds or painting the mailbox, then suddenly look over at each other, stinky and sweaty, and think, wow this is romantic let's have sex.  Does that really happen?  Maybe it's just us, or me.  But even though we will be spending the second half of our trip at my parents' house, sleeping in my sister's old bedroom (my bedroom was turned into a playroom for the grandsons), it's enough to let J unwind and catch his breath.

And yeah, I do have those moments where I think, nothing is better than watching the waves come rolling towards you at the end of the day.

MISS GEE

Not Sure Why

I am not sure why the depression has hit me so dang hard lately.  I thought I was getting better.  I was starting to have very productive days, pain free, bright, happy.  I am tired of blaming my depression on external factors like the weather or time without my husband or backaches or just being stuck at home all day every day. None of that should matter.  My life is whatever I make of it, and I've been making mud pies apparently.

I know I always seem to put J on a pedestal as the perfect husband, and in almost every way he is.  He is patient and understanding, kind, funny, warm, romantic, thoughtful, tender.  He is strong for me when I need him to be, and goofy when the moment calls for it.  Before he leaves for work, he has to hug and kiss me every morning.  When he gets home in the evenings, the first thing he wants is another long hug and kiss.  It's wonderful and amazing to have someone in my life that feels that way about me.  I don't even feel that way about me.

But I'm not sure J understands how deep my depression runs, and if he did, I'm not sure he would be able to help.  Oh, he tells me all the time if I feel like I need to talk to a therapist, please go.  If I think yoga or a massage will help, he's all for that.  Or he gently suggests I go to my family doctor and talk to her about it, to see if she thinks I need medication.  He said he approves of anything I want to do, to improve my life.  J's mother and older sister both suffer from very deep depression, so he's familiar with it.  But I don't think he truly understands.  And I don't think I can make him understand.  Even if he did really understand it, I'm not sure if that would change what I'm feeling, what I'm going through. J's response is always for me to shake it off.  He doesn't say this flippantly, he truly believes that I'm in control of my depression, and I am the key to making it better- or worse.  His sister has improved her depression through natural remedies and herbal teas and exercise.  His mother has relied on prescription medications.  And me?  I'm not doing much of anything but trying to ride out this latest wave of dismal days.  It's not working out very well.

Lately I don't want to do anything, I don't want to be anywhere, I don't want to even think about stuff.  I want to escape.  Not permanently, just escape my thoughts, my body.  I have been reading nonstop every day for the last few weeks.  I am reading an entire paperback in one day.  I know it's just to keep from dealing with the world around me.  I don't tell J that I've just been sitting in my chair in the corner of the bedroom every day, looking out into the yard, all the cats sleeping around me, wrapped up in a sweater with a book in my hand.  I don't even turn the lamps on, I just read by whatever light comes through the window, and some days it is dark and gray and I don't care.  Some days I don't even walk outside the house, except to go to the mailbox, that's it. I think my husband would be disturbed to know these things, but right now I don't have the energy or desire to do anything else.  So every day I do just enough housework, so that when he comes home at night, he can see that I did something during the day.  I feel like I'm a big fraud, that I'm living a secret life.  And J and I don't keep secrets, at least we're not suppose to.

Some days he will leave me with a small task to complete, a favor as he calls it.  Can I write a check for the termite inspection and get it mailed?  Can I hang this framed photo for him in his home office?  Will I go to the pharmacy and pick up his prescriptions?  He always asks politely, considerately, he always says please.  That's how we talk to each other, why we get along so well- respect for one another even during the most simple of conversations. We don't yell, we don't demand, we don't demean, we don't insult.  My ex would have said, get off your fat lazy ass and wash my clothes!  J says, honey if you don't mind today would you go to Lowe's and pick up some new light bulbs?  Of course, yes, absolutely my love.

I always make certain I do these little things for him.  First of all, I love him, and how could I ever refuse him anything when he gives so much to me?  Secondly, what would be my excuse, after staying home all day long, that I couldn't find the time to put a check out in the mailbox?  It sounds ridiculous to even say it. But there are days when I think to myself, I don't even feel like doing that.  Then I become filled with shame and loathing for myself.  What kind of wife am I, to dismiss one little small favor asked of me by my amazing husband, just because I don't feel like it?  I'm sure J doesn't "feel" like going off to work every morning for 12-13 hours a day at a place he has come to hate, but does it because he's a responsible adult and head of household, and does it to take care of me, of us.  My self-pity is ridiculous, there is no reason for it at all.

The only thing J ever truly asks of me, is to please please just be happy and enjoy my life.  Really, that is ALL he wants me to concentrate on.  Why can't I do that?  Why can't that be just a simple thing?  I'm not sure why, but I need to find out the answer.

MISS GEE

Winter Blues

Normally winter is my favorite time of the year.  In the Deep South, it's so brief and mild, and I always look forward to the crisp cold air and the bright blue skies.  This year not so much, and I'm ready for it to be over with.  We here in the Peach State, have been dumped on twice in the last three weeks.  The first storm to roll through the last week of January is the one that made the major news networks top stories- how the entire city and interstate system shut completely down due to the snow that hit in the middle of a weekday morning.  The problem?  Some of the biggest school systems, knowing that the snow would start before lunch, went ahead and opened as usual- then all of a sudden thousands and thousands of parents were all on the road at the same time that morning, trying to pick up their children when the schools said, oops come back and get your kids now.  Utter madness, chaos.  The snow fell hard, and wreck after wreck shut the roads down to the point where people simply slept in their cars overnight, right there in the fast lane on the interstate, or walked away abandoning their vehicles.  Kids were never picked up, and slept overnight at their schools.  People slept on the floor of whatever store they got stuck in- Home Depot, Kroger. Traffic was literally a parking lot for miles and miles and miles.  So many people never made it home for a day or two, while others spent 15 hours on the road just to drive 20 miles at a crawl.  They called it Snowmageddon in the local news, although that wasn't an original thought.  As for my little town just south of the mighty metropolis, our school board had brains and said, if the snow is supposed to start at 10am- no point in having school that day.  So everyone stayed at home in our county.

Then last week it came through again, the snow and ice.  This time, people were prepared to stay home, and the schools were cancelled the day before the snow even started to fall.  So everyone was home, the highways were empty, grocery stores were decimated of all staples.  Everyone expected to be safe and snug and warm in their living rooms for a few days.  Only this time, the ice and sleet came first, the snow a day later.  Trees already heavy with an inch thick blanket of ice crashed everywhere, shedding limbs on power lines, blocking roads, caving in houses and buildings and cars.  Hundreds of thousands were suddenly without power, and some for several days.  My power went off and on in brief spurts, but I was never without it for too long, and my gas fireplace kept right on crackling out its glowing heat.  My gas stove cooked my eggs for breakfast, and my gas water heater let me take a hot shower in the morning.  The sky was bright once the snow stopped falling, and I didn't even miss the light from my lamps- I sat near a sunny window and read.  A real paperback book, not a digital one that required electricity to charge its battery.  At our house we lost many branches, and also one of our favorite trees, under the crushing weight of the ice.  The loss of the tree left me unusually morose- this is one of two trees outside our bedroom window where the birds visit our yard to serenade us with their songs.  It was painful to look out there and see it gone now. This weekend was all about cleanup for us.  We now have plenty of wood for our little outdoor firepit.  After working hard at his job, J had to spend his down time working hard at home.

The hardest part about the winter storms for me personally was hunkering down without J.  Our company does not, repeat, does NOT close due to inclement weather and they have a strict policy about that.  I never missed a snow day in the 11 years I worked there, and J has never missed one either.  Our company provides food and supplies to customers that include the airports, hospitals, hotels, military, nursing homes, colleges, local government offices, and "storm services" (utility worker camps, Red Cross, etc.).  People were there at those places, stuck.  We can't shut down because they can't shut down, and they need us to be there for them.  And we always are.  So for both storms, we knew what was coming and we prepared well in advance, and we packed J a suitcase and made hotel reservations for him just a few blocks from the office.  He was gone three days for the first storm, and four days for the one last week.  He can't take the risk of coming home- 25 miles away- and then not being able to get back to the warehouse the next day.  So as he has done in the past, he bunked down as close to the office as possible.  And when most of the hourly employees simply called out due to road conditions or power outages, J and his management staff were already there, sleeves rolled up, doing the sweaty rough labor that he used to do almost 17 years ago when he started with the company as a much younger man.  With a skeleton crew of mostly supervisors and executives, the work and service continued as usual.  J never takes the easy way out, he always does what is right.  That's one of the many things I deeply love about my husband.

The low parts were always the evenings without J here.  I'm used to rambling around the house and yard without him during the days, but I can always count on him being at home every night at least by 8PM for our late dinners together.  To retire into the bedroom alone to sit and read, or watch mindless TV, started to wear on me.  But it was temporary, and I knew it, and I had emails and phone calls in daylight hours to reassure me that even though he wasn't home during the storms, he was off the roads and safe, and as comfortable as he could be, stuck at work with no respite.  Since lately I have nowhere to be- ever- I wasn't even faced with the decision to venture out on the icy streets.  I just stayed put and watched everyone else's adventures on the local news.  I was totally alone. Even the mail carrier didn't make it out our way for days on end, and forget about newspaper delivery.  When the roads ice up, they are impassable, even with 4-wheel drive.  People up north may laugh at us because we can't drive in this weather down here, but driving on slushy snow that gives at least a bit of traction, is different than trying to drive on a total sheet of slick frozen solid ice that resists melting even when the temps finally warm up.  Think about walking across soft snow as opposed to trying to walk across an icy parking lot.  Same thing with driving.  Walk on ice, you slip and fall and bust your ass.  Driving on ice, your wheels simply spin uselessly and steering becomes nonexistent- your big SUV is going to slide whichever way no matter what you do.

We've been known to get snow in this area even in late March, so I can't say that it's over for this winter.  But for the first time in a long time, I am saying I hope I don't see anymore of the white stuff for awhile.  When it hits on Friday afternoons, and J can rest and relax at home with me, it's different.  But both these storms hit on Tuesdays, and kept him away and exhausted for the week, and left me sadder than normal.  And sadder than normal for someone who suffers from depression on even the sunniest, warmest spring day, is truly sad.  The heartache kind of sad that physically hurts.  And it made me even more resentful to get on Facebook and see my old coworkers posting from their cozy homes, saying how they were "working" from home on their laptops and watching their kids play, knowing that my husband has a job that can NOT be done from the comfort of his living room couch and can only be accomplished by physical labor at the actual work site.  All the while those at-home-workers were sending in email after email, order after order, that just kept my husband and his team at work for longer and longer hours, back hurting, muscles aching, feet numb.  Who the hell did they think was handling all their requests, so casually sent while they sat in their easy chairs with their feet propped up on the coffee table and sipping cocoa?

In between the two storms, we celebrated his birthday then our wedding anniversary as best as we could, which wasn't much at all since we were both at that point very tired and grumpy.  And I had a minor fall during the first storm that resulted in a broken foot and toes, so I've been hobbling around the house as much as I can.  Then J got troubling news at work last week that upset him enough that he has picked an absolute departure date for himself- not anytime soon but he put it on the calendar as a goal nonetheless.  He is bitter, he was so unhinged he didn't speak to me for almost 24 hours over the weekend, and he couldn't find the words to tell me what was wrong with him.  I thought it was me, but it was work.  Always work.  He is coming to a realization, one I saw long ago- that for our company, politics and gamesmanship are more important than hard work and dedication. But for the short term we are counting down the days- 18 now- until we leave for a week long sunny beach vacation that is far enough south that no snow will reach us. For right now, the rolling blue waves and sandy shores will have to be enough.  But those happy moments together away from the realities of work and home, are all too brief.  

I have this oppressive weight in my chest, it feels like it would release if only I could have a good solid cry, but no tears have come lately. And I feel like a really bad cliche. A heavy sigh escapes me at odd moments, and J will ask me what's wrong, and I'll respond with "nothing" or "I don't know".  And I don't know.  It has to be something other than the winter weather, but whatever it is I can't seem to shake it right now.  I'll post again soon.

A BLUE MISS GEE