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