Giving Support

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MISS GEE

Hallmark Memories

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MISS GEE

Where To?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MISS GEE

Suburban Habitats

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

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

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

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

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

MISS GEE

(The evening view from my back deck.)

Settling In

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

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

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

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

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

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

MISS GEE

End of Days

Well today was the day, my last day of employment.  I feel very weird.  I am not happy, I am not sad.  I don't really feel anything yet.  I am sure it will hit me, maybe not on Monday because I can convince my brain I've just taken a day or two off.  Maybe not in the next few weeks, because we have some visits planned in May and June with both sides of the family, that will keep me occupied.  But I know one day soon, when I'm not expecting it, the feeling will wash over me that hey, I quit my job!  Wow man, I really quit my job...  Ugh, did I really do that?

As much as I griped and complained about my job, it is very odd to be without it now.  Without a real purpose, without a true destination every day.  What will I answer when people ask the inevitable "what do you do?"  What do I do now?  I was a very good employee- I had multiple statues and awards on my desk to prove it.  I was great at my job, I worked whatever hours were required, I knew my duties inside and out, and never left a project undone or met a deadline I couldn't keep.  But the sheer overwhelming shadow of the job itself, was more than I could take, it was eating me up by little pieces every day.  J knew I was to the point where I felt like there was nothing left of me.  I was told that before I took the position, it was a revolving door where burn out status was repeatedly reached within six months.  I lasted 3 1/2 years at the job.  It wasn't my favorite position in the 11 years with the company, but it was pretty darn close.  My arms finally just got tired of juggling so many balls, and my head was hurting from wearing too many hats.  The job required that I be everything for everyone, never saying no, and I just couldn't do it anymore.

I am still not sure this was the right decision, leaving my job.  I am very much still struggling with it.  J has no doubts, or he is very good at hiding them from me to keep me from worrying.  He was behind this decision 100%.  But it makes me sad to think he doesn't have that option, he has to work, he is the breadwinner and he has no choice.  He has stress at work, but deals with it so much better than I can.  I wish I could lift his burdens as well, of going into that place, of 12 hour days only to come home and have to keep at it on the laptop, the Blackberry.  Short of winning the lottery, I can't help him.  I can only feel as though he now has to make greater sacrifices in order for me to stay home, even if it's just for a short while.  I won't find another job out there making the money I just gave up, they simply aren't available in our area.  But it's a done deal.  I know the folks there would love it if I came back on Monday saying it was a mistake, I want to come back, and they would celebrate it.  Only, they would not be celebrating me as a returning comrade.  They would be celebrating the fact that I'd be back to take on the brunt of the work in my department, as I always have.  When people would hug me this week and tell me how much they were going to miss me, I was thinking no you won't, you don't even know me after all this time.  You will miss what I could DO for you, not "me" as a person.

The lady taking over my job, is one of my co-workers who was already reaching her breaking point, so I'm not sure how long she will last handling my accounts and my salesmen.  None of which she's had to deal with so far.  As soon as she was named my official replacement, she was starting to get the urgent emails, the 4:59 frantic phone calls, the "can you do me a favor?" and "but it's an emergency!" IM's.  My salespeople were all very very needy, and I used to say that babysitting and handholding were some of my functions.  I won't miss that part of the job, the days where I could hardly breathe, the days I didn't even have time to get up to go pee, the days where in the time I could answer one email, I would get 30 more.  I shouldn't complain- our company is number two in the US in its field.  The economy dinged us slightly, but not much, and in a time when businesses are closing, being busy was good and having new accounts was great, working 15+ hours of overtime every week was fantastic for my bank account.  But I digress.  I will say only that, since J still works there, I wish the company many many more years of growth and wealth.  I just don't want to be an active part of that formula for success anymore.  I will cheer on my husband from the sidelines now.  Even today, my last day, I was there from 7am until 6:30pm trying to get it all done, even though I was getting ready to walk away from it permanently.  I just couldn't let it go.

But I came home tonight like any other night, J and I riding together from work for the last time.  We had dinner while watching a baseball game on TV, we went outside to play basketball in our driveway, and I strolled around the yard to see what had bloomed today.  And the flowers are blooming, and it was a beautiful sunset in our quiet subdivision, and tomorrow it will be another Saturday.  And Monday will come, and I will set my alarm clock as always, I will get up and see the hubby off to work, and I will have to figure out- what do I do now?

MISS GEE

General Hospital

Well I can say now that I have made progress lately.  Lots of steps backwards, but one giant leap forward into the unknown but exciting future.

Last week I ended up in the ER where I was admitted, imprisoned and tortured with needles, machines and jello for three days.  While an immobile hostage on the second day, J announced this was the final wake up call.  I was quitting my job.  He'd spent time crunching the numbers and assured me, we could take the financial loss of my salary and still be fine.  We'd have to take cuts- no spontaneous $100 dinners out on a weeknight just because we can- but it would be okay. And when J says it will be okay, I believe him.  I do have some health issues that will need tending to, but I am on medication and have planned visits to specialists to monitor my blood work and numbers.

Both J and my father have asked me to quit my job for over a year now, and I have resisted because of the money.  I doubt the ER visit is related to work, although when I arrived my blood pressure was so high, the doctors said it was at stroke levels.  I think that concerned J more than the actual issues that brought me there.  If I'm dead I can't enjoy that paycheck anyhow, and then who will inherit my Dooney collection?  I try to make light of it, but the fact is, I have felt like shit for quite some time now. Extreme fatigue, headaches almost every day, breathing problems, insomnia, dizzy spells, frequent nose bleeds. I've chalked it all up to stress on the job, and the super long hours, and I told myself this is the American way.  Everyone works themselves to death.  So even though it scared me, I did the right thing for my health- I turned in my notice. As much as I want to screw over the witch I work for, I don't want to screw the company because it's been good to J and I for so very long now.  I gave a 3 weeks notice, and said I was leaving due to health issues. I plan to take at least one day off a week as I have paid sick time to use, and I'm doing that today.  They begged me to take a leave of absence instead, but it's pointless because no matter how long I take off, I will come back to the same job, the same hours, the same stress all over again.

People at work this week have been giving me weird looks.  If I could come in and work 10 hours on Monday and Tuesday, why do I have to quit because of my health?  Some have told me how bad their health and pains are, and how high their blood pressure is, etc., and I can't decide if they are trying to compete with me or let me know they are toughing it out.  A few have given me hugs and said I am doing the right thing.  Then there are the ones that I know are jealous, and I won't apologize that I am a middle-age childless woman whose husband makes six figures.  I know a few of the ladies there have husbands in poor health who can't work, so the burden falls on them to pay the bills and take care of the entire family.  I don't know what the future holds for J, but right now he's young and relatively healthy and has a job that pays well.  And he reminded me to ignore everyone else at work, what they say, what they think, how they act. It doesn't matter, and it has nothing to do with me.

I am not saying my working days are over, just over at this company.  On the contrary I would like to find a part time job for now, where I don't have to commute for 40 minutes one way, where I won't have to crawl in half-asleep at 6:30am and still be struggling to leave at 6:30pm.  And eventually I would want to go back to work full time, because it's just my nature and other than spots here and there over the years, I've always worked full time.  I enjoy it.  I like challenging my mind, and my current job certainly did that.  I will miss the work itself, but I will not miss the stressful atmosphere and I will not miss the company politics (read: bullshit), and I will not miss my lazy drama queen supervisor.  Frankly, I won't miss 99% of my co-workers either.  If I could pick up my work and bring it home every day, I could have worked there the next 20 years easily, with no complaints.

J is content with me staying home forever I think.  And if things go well, and I can get motivated, that might be a possibility.  Now I will have time to work on my pottery and get my Etsy store going again, or even find one of the little shops downtown who might be willing to carry my pieces.  I will have time to exercise every day, more than just 15 minutes on the treadmill at 8pm before I collapse.  I will have time to prepare and eat "real" food, instead of stuffing a lunch bag with a Lean Cuisine, Slimfast, Fiber One Bar, and a Coke Zero before I run out the door every morning, then coming home at night to feed my husband something I dumped out of a box or bag.  Now I will have time to actually clean my house instead of stepping over and ignoring the mess.

J is very adamant that I do these things, he said he would be unhappy if I sat around every day and just read, not moving, not accomplishing anything.  He absolutely doesn't want me to get into the daytime TV trap, and that garbage doesn't even tempt me at all.  He insists that I get out of the house every day- art classes, the gym, Weight Watchers meetings, walks in the park- things I gave up when we moved here.  I can also now take over some of my husband's chores around the house, to give him more free time in the evenings as well, because he absolutely deserves that.  I am very encouraged to see that, since bringing me home from the hospital, he has been exercising every night.  He has his own issues- high cholesterol and blood sugar, his weight.  Maybe he hasn't landed in the ER with them yet, but he knows it's time to stop fooling around and taking chances, and start addressing them all.

My husband's greatest fear is that by staying at home, I will fall into deep depression the way I did when we moved here in 2009 and I wasn't working for several months.  But I wasn't doing anything at all then, and I had just left behind all my friends and my dream house, and was now sitting alone and dwelling on fears of a new town and sudden isolation.  Now I have my garden that needs tending, I have my kiln that hasn't been fired lately, I have my incredible room that J created for me- amazing enough that I can call it an art studio and really mean it. And I can get around town with my eyes closed- it doesn't scare or overwhelm me anymore.  I have a lot of plans swimming in my head, ideas that were just floundering while I was working, but now they finally seem to be bobbing on the surface and ready for me to snatch them up.  J has said I need to have a daily schedule and a weekly schedule at home, just like I do at work to keep me focused.  I agree.  I'm all about making lists and scratching lines through each completed task.  But mostly, J demands my number one new job is taking care of my health.  I am truly fortunate to be able to do this, and to have a partner who loves me enough to support this decision and opportunity.

And I also know that, I may find that staying home is NOT what's best for me and I may get bored out of my mind, but come May I will have the chance to find out.

MISS GEE

Happy Un-Anniversary

It was 20 years ago, March 1993, that I met W.  Today I still question my judgment when I think about getting involved with him.  When I divorced him there was no second guessing that decision.  The last time I saw W, was in my rear view mirror as I drove away from the court house, a single woman with my maiden name back.  I know that sounds terribly cliché, but it's true.  He would call me from time to time after that, for what reasons I don't understand- most of the time it was to brag about the woman he had started to date, as though I would be jealous.  But once his calls turned into angry threats on my life (I’ll burn your house down while you sleep bitch!) I got an unlisted number.  That was the end of my contact with him.

W was wrong for me from day one, but I just didn’t see it at the time.  I met him when I was a temp at an office in my hometown, and he made little impression on me when we were introduced.  A few weeks later he hired me to do some personal paperwork for him, which led to our first date just days later.  A few weeks after that, we were living together.  It was a terrible decision, I really barely knew him at all outside a few dates that somehow always ended up at a hotel.  I was living with my parents, he was living with his parents an hour away.  I can vaguely remember the discussion about us moving in with each other, it was not romantic at all, except that we were on the beach watching a sunset.  He said it would be cheaper and more convenient for him, if we just got an apartment together.  Yes, doesn’t that just sweep a young girl off her feet?  Nonetheless, I fell for it.  (His marriage proposal was the two of us leaving the mall with my engagement ring- which my parents loaned him the money for and he never paid them back- and he threw the box at me and said here you go.)

Because he lived two counties away and commuted to my hometown for the job, I was the one who got the apartment, and on the day I moved in he was nowhere to be found.  My family and friends moved me into my very first place.  W showed up two days later, with some clothes and books, and that was it.  He claimed he had been sick in bed with a toothache and that’s why he wasn’t there on moving day.  Strange that he never bothered to call to let me know.  Of course later on, I found out he had been a few hundred miles away partying with college friends and was drunk as hell, sleeping it off.  This should have been the light bulb moment for me right away, but I ignored the signs.

My parents were very disappointed and unhappy that I was going to be living with a guy I had just met.  My mom and sister hated him from day one and never changed their opinion during all the years we were married, my father wanted to give him a chance to prove he was a good man for his daughter.  But, I was in my twenties, out of college, working full time for the government at this point.  My younger sister had shacked up before me, but by then she was married to the man and still is to this day.  I was supposed to be the sensible oldest child and not do stupid or crazy things, and I think it hurt my father more than he let on.  Lesson learned, father does know best.

W and I did get married not long afterwards, but I am shocked we even made it through the first year of our relationship.  I suffered traumas that I won’t even post here anonymously, because of him.  No one but J knows 100% of the awful story- too terrible and painful to even tell a sister or best girlfriend.  And I had to grow up, quickly.  I wasn’t sheltered or naïve before I met W, but I had never known anyone like him before.  A misogynistic, egomaniacal drug addict.  I did know about his drug addiction even before we moved in together, and it’s something I managed to hide from my family and friends the entire 13 years I was with him.  I did not know he was such a hateful, abusive asshole though.  No one knew about any of this until I had filed for divorce, when I realized I didn’t care about “protecting” him anymore.  My family was shocked when I announced we were splitting up, my girlfriends all said it was about friggin’ time I kicked him out.  My mom said I never loved him, I was just looking for an excuse to get out from under my parents’ roof, and quite frankly that was the truth.

It was so bad at the end, every day I prayed he would come home to announce he had been having an affair and was leaving me for the other woman, and I would shriek “Thank God!” I would finally be rid of him.  But he was predictable in that when he wasn’t at work he was sitting on the living room couch stoned and watching cartoons.  The short time when we were dating, our intimate life was good.  Not long after we married, sex became a once or twice a year ordeal, with me begging and him so uninterested in anything but pot, that he couldn’t even “finish”.  Makes me cringe to think about that now.  The part where I actually begged that creep for sex, not the part about him rolling over in the middle of it saying he was too tired to keep going.

The best part of our relationship was when I decided to end it, and told him to move out, and I was filing for divorce.  We’d had those stupid fights where I would scream at him to pack his shit and get out, and he would sit there and laugh at me.  But this time, it was for real.  I joke today and tell people about my “divorce diet”, and how it was the easiest way to get rid of 185 pounds of ugly unwanted fat.  Everyone laughs.   It was a rough time though, he took four months to finally move out and that was after I got an attorney to show him how serious I was.  Then he tried to blackmail me for alimony, seriously (that is a long story).  My dad offered him a lump sum of money to just leave me alone, but he was greedy and refused.  The state we lived in required us to be separated for an entire year before we could even file for divorce.  I asked him for a divorce in December 2003, and it did not happen until May 2005.  Sadly we had to have constant contact with each other throughout the separation- the only legal rule for separation was that we were not allowed to spend a night together under the same roof (even if it was spent not speaking and sitting in different rooms)- the "year" would start all over again if that happened.  Such antiquated bullshit, I can't even believe it was the 21st century.

There is a lot more to tell, like the stalking episodes, stealing my diary, the insanely disgusting and perverted letters he sent me while we were separated.  I know if you read my last post, you are doing the math.  I was with W for 13 years, but I’ve been with J for 10, yet I only met W 20 years ago.  Math doesn’t add up, does it?

And that story is for another day…my happy chapters.

MISS GEE

Honesty

I am really disappointed in my blog, in the content.  I intended it to be a good hard look at myself, a self-analysis into my misery and depression.  But I seem to automatically revert back to the people-pleaser in me.  Instead I'm talking about vacations and my garden, happy days.  Those are posts better left to the family & friends blog, where I put on that sunny face so everyone will think I'm okay.  I don't know why I can't put all the dark or sad thoughts out there, even anonymously.  I know I love J and he loves me, I know our life is awesome.  And that's the point.  Knowing this and still being so unhappy that some nights I go to bed hoping I don't wake up in the morning.  I know J is the only reason I want to keep going, he really is my only purpose in life.  If something happened and he was no longer here with me, it wouldn't be worth me drawing another breath.  But he's here, and he comes home to me every day, and we both wake up together every morning in the same bed, usually with a snuggly kitty or two.

My father has always- even now- treated me like his princess.  W cast me to the wolves every chance he got.  And now J protects me from my biggest enemy and threat- myself- it is a tiring and futile struggle.  That period of my life when I was with W, in my early twenties to my mid-thirties, was a crucial time for my development as a woman.  It was the first time I'd lived outside the walls of my parents' home, W was the first man who had ever been duty-bound to take care of me besides my dad.  But W was irresponsible, cruel, selfish, and insecure to the point that, for him to feel better about himself, he had to squash me under his boot repeatedly.  I went from listening to a father who told me I could do anything in life that I wanted to, that he would support me no matter what, that I was smart and beautiful and accomplished- to suddenly living with a man whose favorite nickname for me was Fat Lazy Whore or Stupid Bitch, both of which he would scream at me frequently for the smallest infractions.  You may read this and think, I would never let anyone talk to me that way, especially a husband.  I thought I was one of those women too, who would never take that crap from a man.  But until I was actually in the middle of such a relationship, I didn't know my own weaknesses.  After 13 years of listening to that, I became all the things W told me I was.  Whatever dreams and hopes and aspirations I'd had as a single girl, I lost all of those and instead became a bumbling, incompetent wife.

That's why it's so hard now, to have such a wonderful man who loves me and appreciates me and adores me, and believe that it could be possible now and for the rest of my life.  I have many days that I tell myself, J just says and does the things that he does, only to be nice because he's stuck with me now.  In my heart, I know that's not true, I know J does really love me and cherish me, and I believe him when he tells me everything he does, he does for me and because of me.  I believe him when he says I'm the best part of him, that he wouldn't survive without me, when he tells me the only thing he wants out of life is for me to be happy.  But in my head, the parts that W lobotomized with his hate, I can't understand why anyone would love me.  I don't even like myself, and if I could bust out of my body and crawl away somewhere safe, I would.  I still feel stupid, I still feel lazy, I still feel fat.  W spent 13 years convincing me that this is who I am.  J has spent the last 10 years trying to undo the damage.  I know it's not fair to J- he didn't break me, he shouldn't have to fix me.

I find fault with myself for even the most mundane, "it's just part of life" issues- clothes coming out of the dryer wrinkled, crumbs on the kitchen counters, coming back from vacation five pounds heavier, letting plants die because I overwater them.  You name it, if it's in any way negative, I take the blame personally.  I can't help it, and I can't stop it.  I remember pleasant afternoons in my sunny kitchen in my first house, cleaning, mopping the bright white and blue tile floors- and W suddenly coming in and yelling at me that I shouldn't use a mop, I should be down on my hands and knees scrubbing.  I don't know if that was his cleaning tip, or his view of women in general.  It's just one of those moments where I felt like, no matter what I did, it wasn't right, it wasn't good enough, and I sucked as a human being.  It stuck with me, I don't know how to shake it off.

J never gets mad at me, about anything, ever.  But I know he gets disappointed.  One thing that upsets him is my constant need to apologize about everything. He says, please stop saying you're sorry, there's nothing to apologize about.  If the chicken is a little overcooked, if I get a sinus infection, if I cry over a TV show, if I forgot to bring the coupons to the grocery store, if I come home from work with a backache, if I accidentally hang a shirt backwards in the closet.  Every illness or pain, every forgetful moment.  Just stupid insignificant shit.  I'm sorry, honey, I'm sorry.  J doesn't care about any of these things, he only cares about me.  I'm the one making them into issues and failures.

I see how he gets frustrated over my near groveling, and my low self-esteem.  Some days I know he has to tire of always lifting me up, and I know I would grow exhausted of hearing someone apologize twenty times a day, like a favorite mantra.  I don't know why he bothers with me.  It's like those movie stars or athletes, and you see them on the red carpet, and their wives are plain and dumpy.  You think, wow he is so hot, he could have anyone, why is he with her? And you say, he must really really love her.  It's how I feel about J- he deserves so much better and I know I can't give that to him.  He is so very handsome, he's so intelligent, he is an executive, he's incredibly energetic, he is a leader, he's funny and upbeat.  To me, he's a perfect man.

Why is he with me?  Really....

MISS GEE

Need A Break!

Focusing on the positive again!  Vacation is only a few hours away, just waiting on J to get back from a Saturday morning meeting at work.  We’ve not had a true vacation since our California trip last October.  This trip, we are going to a very small coastal island in Florida, where there is nothing to do, and where we’ll take a car ferry just to get there.  No driving, no interstate, no traffic.  Just walking the beach, strolling the quaint downtown when it’s dinner time.  It will still be somewhat chilly this time of year, and I’m hoping that means not many other vacationers will be around.  J and I are not much for crowds.

J and I decided we are not going to take any “big” vacations this year, to try and save money but also to try and relax more.  Our normal vacation schedule every year is one week in Florida, one 7 day cruise where we always get a big cabin, and then one huge blowout vacation week, normally California or Vegas.  This year, we’re not going any place where we have to fly, where we will be staying at a casino, where we will leave the country.  This year it’s going to be all about slow getaways, relaxing, unwinding, peace and rest, being alone but together.  Usually on our vacations, we try to cram in as much activity and sightseeing as possible, and we come back utterly exhausted and in the hole a few grand.  We drive from here to there all day long, every day.  Or we buy too much/eat too much/spend too much in Mexico or Atlantic City or Los Angeles.   I am happy we are going to downsize our vacations this year.  I think this will work out for us well, and it’s just what we need.  Mostly, I hope J will be able to relax for the week, instead of getting even more stressed out trying to keep up with a self-inflicted non-stop vacation itinerary.

I told J, I’m hoping that we’ll find we don’t need to take the big glitzy trips every time our vacations roll around.  I am hoping that we’ll discover that having nowhere to go in the morning besides getting coffee and taking it down to the shoreline, is just the right pace.  Our hotel is just two blocks from the beach, that’s the most hustling and bustling I want to do on this trip.

No matter where we go, J has to work, dragging his laptop along.  I wish I could save him from it, but that’s out of my control.  He says he prefers to work while we are gone in order to keep up, instead of coming back to a thousand emails to catch up on.  I understand the concept, but secretly I resent it.  Not J, because I know he’s doing the right thing.  Just resenting the situation, the phone calls, the urgent texts, the issues that no one else can take care of but J, and how it cuts into my time with him, our time together that is supposed to be a vacation from work.  Then I remind myself that work is paying for the vacation. 

On the other hand, work is WHY we need the vacation, what we are trying to get away from in the first place.  Vicious cycle.  But this time it leads to blue ocean views, clear skies, and sun on my shoulders.

MISS GEE

Better Days

I wanted to post today because J is gone for the day, and that's really the only time I have the freedom to post on this anonymous blog without fear of him catching me.  Well, fear is not the right word, but you know what I mean- I don't really want him to find this blog.  I spent this morning reading over my old posts, and frankly they all sounded the same. Complaining about work, whining about my life, blah blah- full of negativity.  I don't feel as though I've moved forward one bit since starting this blog last year, and my purpose was to work out some of my issues and feelings, that are causing my depression and constant funk about life.  I don't see where I've accomplished anything in that arena yet.  I started a post a few hours ago, and decided to save it for another time, it wasn't something I wanted to think about this morning.  My Saturdays alone don't come that often and I want to enjoy it. One of J's best friends of 25 years lives in this area, and once every few weeks, they get together for a guy date.  Usually to go spend the entire day at a casino nearby.  I know J won't be home until late tonight.  I literally have the entire day to myself with nowhere that I have to be.  I wanted to work in my garden, but it has turned out to be a very wet and rainy, and cold, weekend.  So I am opting to stay inside and post about something fun.

If J was at home today, we probably would already be in town running errands like dropping off his work clothes at the dry cleaners, going to the large warehouse club to stock up on bulk items, stopping in at the grocery store, having lunch out.  That's our regular Saturday routine when we are in town, and I love it, the comfort in the normalcy and teamwork.  J and I do all our errands together, and I appreciate that I have a husband who actually enjoys going to get groceries.  It sounds so mundane, but there are weeks where our Saturdays spent buying bird seed, paper towels, and frozen pizzas, are the absolute highlights of my life! We had a great night last night, sushi dinner out with another couple, and then bowling until almost midnight- the guys drank beer all night long and we wives happily drove them home.  J deserves to have his day today, to spend the way he wants.   And so today I am balancing the housework with the things I want to do for myself.  Hell, it's after noon and I haven't even gotten out of my pajamas yet.  I celebrate that as well!

The laundry is almost done, I'm getting ready to put all the bed linens in the washer.  I've started cleaning the bathrooms, sorting the recycling, scrubbing the stove top.  But in between I've been working on pottery, and shortly I'm going to go sit in my favorite spot in the house and read.  On my Saturdays alone, I flit from place to place, working on chores a few minutes here and there, then bounding upstairs to glaze bisque bowls.  By the time J gets home tonight, I will feel as though I accomplished a great deal.  It will be a good day- I know my hubby is having a nice afternoon and blowing off the stress of a super hard week at work, and I will be able to start off my Sunday knowing that all my housework is done.  And I will have enough pieces finished and ready that I can load up my kiln tomorrow morning.

I have a lot of things that I love to do- paint, write, cook, garden- but I am very mediocre at them all.  And that's okay. I never expected to have art hanging in a gallery, or win the Pulitzer Prize for my fiction.  I've sold plenty of my crafts over the years. Back in the 80's when street fairs were all the rage, I would set up booths with my mom or friends, and sell small things.  Later on in the early 90's, I had a brief period of time when I wasn't working and I set up at flea markets and art festivals.  It wasn't enough money to make a living, just enough to make it a fun hobby that kept me going.  I have never taken art classes, and my painting is amateurish at best.  But in the new century, I've managed to sell everything I've listed on eBay or Etsy.  I just haven't listed anything since we moved here.

I had always wanted to do pottery, I've always loved buying it from little shops during weekend mountain getaways or at auctions and estate sales.  My china cabinet is full of both local pieces and vintage pottery, some even handed down to me by family.  Back in our old town, I decided one day I wanted to give it a shot, so in 2006 I signed up for a workshop at one of the city rec centers.  I was totally hooked, and went to classes every Tuesday night after work.  I would make pieces all week long, take them to classes to drop them off for firing.  I started selling everything online.  I never got a chance to take a class on using the wheel, so everything I make is formed by hand.  I do use a lot of rubber stamps for designs, but I don't really feel like that's cheating!  I also use commercial premade glazes, and most of the pottery in shops use glazes that are homemade by the potter.  Commercial glaze is a little pricey, and I do want to learn how to make my own eventually.

Moving here, I was unable to find any kind of pottery studios nearby, everything was at least 45 minutes away in any direction.  Plus now with the hours at my job expanding constantly, I was not able to commit to any kind of regular classes, even if I had the gumption to drive that distance.  Last year, my wonderful Mister finally broke down and bought me a kiln of my own.  I'd never used one before, ever.  So, being that J is so very smart and practical, we agreed on getting the smallest and least expensive kiln available.  It's actually a test kiln, which is designed for potters to test fire very small pieces, for example to see what a new glaze might look like once it's fired.  And since I just make small handmade pieces, normally 4 x 4 tiles or candle holders, it made sense.  J promised that if, in a couple of years, I decided that I wanted a larger kiln he would happily get it for me.  I think he wants to make certain this is something I will stick with, instead of my normal process of getting all excited about a new hobby only to lose interest in a few months.  A smart move, since a larger kiln will run a few thousand bucks.  Even this little one, was a dime.

I've been making pieces in the evenings and on weekends when we're at home, but so far I have not listed a single thing online to sell.  My cabinet where I've been placing all my finished pieces, is about full now.  But I have nitpicked imagined flaws on every item to the point where, I have convinced myself not to list it, that no one would want to buy it.  I'm not sure where this attitude is coming from, knowing that I successfully sold my pieces in the past.  Why am I not putting the items on my Etsy page, and letting people decide for themselves if they want to buy it or not?  I am convincing myself that suddenly I'm not good enough.  I look at all the other pottery out there on Etsy and look at mine and say, wow I suck.  But no one is going to criticize me as harshly as I will.  J is trying to be supportive and encouraging me to get everything listed.  He's even been saving small boxes for me and bubble wrap, for when I make a sale and need to ship it.  Now that is a very optimistic partner I have.  Right now, just the fact that I've actually been working on the pottery, has started me on the regular routine of working on a piece every night.  Even if it's 15 minutes of painting a coat of glaze.  Wish I could make myself get on the treadmill every night too, but that's another area of my life I'm still trying to work on.  I know I'm not a great potter, I can't make a vase or a coffee mug, but somewhere in the last 2-3 years I have lost my self-confidence in my art.  Where did it go?  Hhhmmm....

And just so everyone doesn't think I'm delusional and to show that I actually do pottery, here is one of my favorite tiles that I made and sold a few years ago, River Dance.  I actually won a blue ribbon for this piece, from an online art competition.  So I know I can do this.

I just need to find that creativity and confidence again now!

MISS GEE

Real Love Part Four

Daddy's boy.

MISS GEE

Out On Good Behavior

Continuing with my goal of focusing on the positives for 2013!

Now that J and I are back to our normal lives, not wandering about the house looking at everything in terms of what we need to get rid of or what we should go ahead and pack up- the mood around our home is once again relaxing and fun.  I have said to friends and family many times over, one day when I'm in the nursing home and no one ever comes to visit me, I will probably regret not having had kids.  But for J and I, it was not to be and frankly, we love our life right now just the way it is.  We would not be the people we are, the couple we are, with kids.  As husband and wife, J and I are very spontaneous, crazy, loving, silly, flirty, lazy, frivolous.  Boring when it suits us to be, and adventurous when the bug bites us.  We enjoy getting outside our comfort zone and having new experiences.  We aren't out there sailing around the world or bungee jumping, but for a pair of mid-lifers living in a small town in the South, we have a very cool life.  Super comfortable one day, exciting the next.  At least we think so, compared to most of our peers. We joke about the town we live in, but it's really not that bad, and we live about 30 minutes outside of the largest, hippest city in the South.  It usually goes by three letters.  I'm sure you can figure it out.

We don't go into the city that often, but we go there a hell of a lot more than others we know, who were born and raised here.  We only moved here at the end of 2008.  Before that, we lived in another small town just outside of a very large city.  We try to find fun wherever we can, whether it's in our own backyard or up the road with the skyscrapers and bright lights.  The other night we were there in the center of the city, and walking along the sidewalks of a huge park I remarked, I don't know why our friends don't ever come up here.  And hardly any of them do.  Yes, we have the freedom of no children, but so do most of the other couples we hang out with.  Was it about money?  J didn't hesitate when he said, it's a choice.  We choose to hop in the car and drive up there to go eat, or go to a museum, to go to a sporting event or show, to find a new local shop we saw online.  They don't.  I guess that's true.  We do invite friends to go out with us often enough, but on most weekends it's just J and I together, and I prefer it that way.  We go where we want, when we want.  We do what we want- or decide to just stay in.  We have very similar likes, and enough differences to keep things interesting.  I am stuck in an office 55 hours a week with people I don't like, and on the weekends, I am okay with not socializing with anyone else but my husband.  Able to be myself with the only person who really gets me.  I may spend most of my waking hours unhappy and wanting to escape my own body, but when I'm with J, that feeling fades away into dust.

J is restless by nature so we rarely stay at home on the weekends, even if we are just keeping close to town.  This weekend was a perfect example.  Friday night not even coming home from work but going straight out for sushi with chopsticks and green tea and just lingering over the conversation and company, then going over to walk around a home improvement store looking, talking, dreaming.  We never once glanced down at our watches- we didn't need to- no reason to rush home.  We eventually stopped and picked up a movie, settled in together on the couch in the dark, a small fire going, just us and the kitties. Saturday we got up and enjoyed the quiet morning together reading the paper and having coffee.  Spent the afternoon the way we wanted to, taking the convertible out, going to two auctions, an antique store downtown, dinner at the deli, target practice at the local range, easing into another movie at home, and a little impromptu strip poker for two that ended up, well, you know.  Probably a very dull Saturday for most people under the age of 30, but for us- we did more in one Saturday afternoon than most of our friends would do in two months.  And I don't know why.  And we don't always do something extravagant, like an expensive steak dinner or a luxury hotel suite downtown.  Those occasions do happen, but they are special and not our normal routine.  Sometimes a perfect evening is coming home and playing basketball in the driveway.  The point is, our time together is spent exactly the way we want to spend it at that precise moment.

Almost as important is the respect we have for each other, when one of us does not want to spend time with the other, or we simply want to do something alone.  J does not come upstairs and sit with me if I'm working on pottery, and I don't hover over him in his office when he's surfing the web.  There are nights when, after dinner, I tell J I don't really want to do anything but go read for awhile.  He has nights when he wants to tinker in the garage.  Some days we work in the yard together, some days he's out there and I don't necessarily want to be outside.  If he's watching something on TV that I don't care for, I don't ask him to change the channel for me, and he doesn't get upset if I tell him I'm going to take a hot bath.  It's a fine balance that it took me a long time to learn- a terrible first marriage and a lot of growing up to make me understand. Compromise, and being okay with compromising.  I miss J on days like today, this bright and windy Sunday afternoon- I'm home alone and he has to work.  I think about what we could be doing if we were together, but we had a great day yesterday, and having a day at home to myself is not a terrible thing.  And I know there are more wonderful times ahead.  Not to say that there are not hard times and struggles, because there are.  We have our share of health problems and family issues and personal woes.  But we get through the rough patches by sticking together, and never letting anything at all drive a wedge between us.  I am luckier than many, that my husband will talk to me no matter what is going on or what is on his mind.  He doesn't shut down, he doesn't shut me out, and he doesn't shut himself off from me.

Maybe I am reflecting on our life as a married couple because tomorrow is our wedding anniversary.  Our marriage, and more importantly our relationship, seems to get better every year.  And we get closer to each other as time passes, instead of drifting apart.  Maybe part of it is because we don't hang out constantly with other people, because we do things together most of the time.  Maybe it's just that we purposefully strive to have the most fun we can in our time away from work, and we don't have as many responsibilities to commit to.  Maybe we are just selfish together.  Whatever it is, it works and I wouldn't change a single thing about it.  J and I are happy and we know we are complete.  We certainly disagree on minor issues, but we never never ever argue about anything.  I can count on one hand the number of "fights" we've had in our decade together.  We really don't have anything to fight about, but we are still passionate with each other, passionate about our life.  Yes, we're unhappy with our jobs, but that truly has nothing to do with our marriage.  It's not that we didn't want children- we tried and it just didn't happen for us. My post today was just to remind me that, even though there are things about our life that aren't ideal- like our jobs and living hundreds of miles away from the nearest family member- our life, our marriage, our partnership, our love is for us, perfect.  We are still best friends and lovers.  We still have fun together.  We still want to spend time with each other.  When I smile at J, it's my real smile, the one that no one else gets to see.

I have a newspaper clipping on the refrigerator that I really believe in:

HABITS OF A SUCCESSFUL MARRIAGE
* Take responsibility for your attitudes and actions
* Create a marriage mission statement
* Prioritize your priorities
* Think mutual benefits
* Listen first, talk second
* Embrace teamwork
* Lift yourself by lifting your spouse

MISS GEE