Butterflies

This morning my stomach is in knots, and for a very stupid reason.  Stupid to anyone else reading this, but real and anxiety-inducing to me.  As long as I can remember I have always worried about the "what if's" in life.  I get worked up and make myself sick, fretting over things that 99% of the time, never even happen.  But sometimes that fear of what may happen, slim chance or not, keeps me paralyzed from moving forward.  It's probably the number one thing about my personality that actually bugs J, and since he's so laid back and calm, for this to bother him you know it's a serious character defect on my part.  He always wants the best for me, so he wants me to be confident in myself and push beyond the worries and pursue my dreams.  To have faith in my abilities, and stop beating myself up all the time.

Today I am finally going to list some of my pottery on Etsy.  I even made an announcement on my Facebook page, put it on my family blog, created a new Facebook page for my Etsy store.  I have followers on a page that doesn't even have any posts yet, and followers for an Etsy store that hasn't had anything for sale since 2008.  I made myself do this, to tell everyone I know about my forthcoming venture, so that it would force me into making that next step. This past weekend we went to a family gathering, and everyone was asking me when they can see my work online. I have to step up now, I have to answer those queries. I've been making the pottery since last year, and it's piled up in a cabinet in my art studio, just sitting there where no one sees it but me.  Not even J. He sees it when it comes out of the kiln and I bring everything up from the basement, then it disappears into my private domain upstairs.  (I was going to call it my woman cave, but that sounded oh so creepy.)  There are no expectations from J, he is not banking on me earning any kind of income or profit on my handmade baubles.  He just wants me to have fun and enjoy my life again.  To be happy.

Let's face it, I've been complaining the last few years about my job not giving me enough free time to work on any of my art, and after J okayed the kiln purchase last year- well, everything in the last few months has fallen into place for me to do art and pottery full time now.  It's now or never, and I realize that. If I don't make a go of it right now, I never never ever will.  I don't want J to see me as a fraud, as a dreamer but not a doer, or worse- I don't want him to see me as a lazy failure.  This morning I have the kitchen table covered with my most recent pieces and I'm taking pictures, then I can get going.  So by the end of today, I will officially be back on Etsy.  And that excites and scares me at the same time.  I am not sure why.  When I was actively selling on eBay and Etsy before, I sold every single thing I listed.  My pottery, my paintings.  Everything.

I worry about the small things- will my photos look okay, what should I charge, what if nothing ever sells?  But by far my biggest fear is being judged, by the family and friends who will see what I've made.  I know my family is already supportive, and most of them already have one or two of my bowls in their homes that were gifts.  Family is going to love everything I make, they are obligated to oohh and aahh, aren't they?  But newer friends will see my work too.  I can imagine some of them saying, really?  Is that it?  That sorta sucks.  You said you were an "artist".  My six-year-old can shape clay better than that at summer camp.  This is what has kept me from exposing myself, although selling my art is what I truly want to do.  So does it make sense that I am scared to simply put photos online? Why is that fear keeping me from moving forward, keeping me from finally getting started on a path that could lead me to exactly where I want to go.  If I'm going to sell art, people have to see it!  I don't know why I get so bogged down in my anxiety, but I do.  With absolutely everything.

Of course I recognize that most of these negative feelings spring from the yesterdays of my first marriage, and the way the ex treated me.  All the doubts in myself, the lack of confidence, the low self-esteem.  He told me for 13 years how much I sucked at everything.  I know I continue to harp on that fact, but it still plays such a major role in how I see myself these days.  If that ugly, hate-filled voice of his ever goes away finally, maybe I will find peace and gain trust in my own self.  Maybe my own voice will stand out and override all the abusive words.  Maybe the fears and bothersome worries will fade into nothingness one day, and I can say to myself- hell yes this is me and I like it!

I know my work is very amateur, I don't even know how to throw pottery on a wheel, and I've never taken an art class in my life as far as painting goes.  I have a very tiny kiln, and making jewelry pieces and small hand-shaped candle dishes is going to be my limit right now.  And there is nothing wrong with that, if only I can convince myself of it.  I have never claimed to be talented, and I know I'm not. I see what is out there on Etsy, I go to art festivals and the small shops and galleries downtown.  I recognize real talent.  I think my fear of others criticizing me, or thinking poorly of me, has kept me from putting anything online up to this point.  Maybe I shouldn't have told everyone I would be selling online, but when I did it, I felt like it was a kick in the butt to carry me into this next phase. If not, I would just have to buy another cabinet to hide away the pottery I keep making, where it will sit in the dark and collect dust, and make me feel a mixture of delight and sadness every time I look at all of it.  And so now here I am, my foot on the first step that can only lead up!  I am just disappointed with myself, that it's taken this long to get to that starting point.

MISS GEE

Real Love Part Five

Gone from our lives, but always in our hearts.  We still miss you.

MISS GEE

One Is Not A Lonely Number

I am trying to be happy today, because the vacation countdown is officially less than a month now.  All the arrangements have been made, and J has tasked me with getting online and finding fun things to do while we are there.  From the photo above you'd never guess our big splurge vacation this year is to Canada!  I don't much care where we go these days, I just look forward to the uninterrupted time I spend with my husband.  I don't get that at home.  I can kiss weeknights off, because J gets home in time to eat dinner, pay bills online, and fall asleep on the couch.  Weekends we spend together, but it's most always taking care of household errands- the garden center for mulch, running the vehicles through the car wash, looking at new down spouts for the gutters, going from store to store to price BBQ smokers.  That sort of stuff.  

And although I'm "with" him, I definitely don't have his undivided attention.  His mind is usually concentrating on things like how many bags of fertilizer he'll need to cover the yard or looking out for who has the cheapest gas.  Not to say that we don't ever do anything fun on the weekends.  We love flea markets and antique stores and auctions, we go to odd but interesting places like railroad museums or wild bird sanctuaries or civil rights monuments.  Things others would find weird or unworthy of their precious Saturday afternoon, I'm sure.  And things I wouldn't do alone.  But with J, even something like a behind the scenes tour of a local TV news studio turns out to be more enjoyable than I could have ever expected.  We prefer to steer clear of the chain restaurants and seek out local eateries on back roads or side alleys.  We like quirky.  Together.  And it's always an adventure for us, no matter what we're doing or where we're at.

Now that I'm staying home all day, J worries about me not having a social life.  I, however, do not worry about this.  Going to work every day at a job I hated, around people I barely tolerated for years, is not a social life anyhow, so what exactly did I "lose" there??  The only socializing I did at work, was going out to lunch once or twice a week with J.  Most of the hobbies I have, are best left as solo ventures.  Writing, reading, pottery, painting, gardening.  Sure, I could go to one of the local "art party" places and pay money to sit in a room with other people I don't know and paint a landscape.  But why would I, when I have my own comfortable space here, all my own supplies, and the peace and quiet I prefer.  And I don't drink alcohol at all, so anything revolving around wine or cocktails holds zero interest for me.  I find that a lot of those "social" situations like painting parties or girls' night bunco tournaments, are not so much about being around people- it's more about getting away from the other people you already spend day in and day out with.  For me that's J, and rarely do I ever want to be away from him, and I wouldn't exchange an evening with him for all the free hors d'oeuvres in the world.

If I want to go to the nursery and look at flowers, if I want to stroll at the farmers market, if I want to go have a fresh salad and bread at the bakery- I don't need company and I am perfectly content to do these things by myself.  I know people who would rather die than go out to eat at a restaurant alone.  Seriously?  I don't understand why.  Embarrassment at being seen alone?  Just being uncomfortable with your own company in a public environment?  I know people who wouldn't even go to a gym alone, they have to have someone else on the equipment beside them to talk to.

Before we moved here, I did have a few very good and close girlfriends.  Even so, we only got together occasionally for dinner or Saturday morning coffee.  Just to sit and chit chat.  I like that, I like sitting and talking with someone without distractions or commotion.  But activities?  Not so much.  Once not long ago, I tried spending the afternoon out shopping with a friend, and I wasn't too into it.  With J it's different, we can look at something and say, wow wouldn't this look great in the living room, should we get it?  With someone who is just an acquaintance, activities together just don't hit all the right buttons like it does with J.  J has talked about taking family vacations, as in, a cruise with our parents.  Never!  Even when I spend the holidays in a cabin with family, I am ready to escape by day three.  He somehow thinks a cruise would be more enjoyable for me, if I had my mom there- really?  My favorite thing to do on a cruise is sit on the balcony and read- how does having my parents there enhance that situation?  So, I've more than once put the kibosh on a family vacation.

I do like dinner out with another couple once every so often, and I don't mind if J invites his best buddy to meet us for lunch in the city, again just occasionally. I do not want other people around us every single time we walk out the door.  And I don't need other people around me all the time.  There is a huge difference in being alone and being lonely.  I am alone all day long now, and I am fine with it, and it's been wonderful.  But at work, surrounded by people for 12 hours a day, I was incredibly lonely because it was the type of place where everyone kept their heads down and stayed inside their little cubicles, and people rarely spoke to one another.  That was the essence of loneliness, and day after day, year after year of it.  But although I like being alone during the day now, I'm sure I would not want it for the next ten years, and when I'm tired of being home by myself I will know it's time to go get another job.  But, not because I'm "lonely" at home.

I know people who have a social calendar that is filled, and I'm thinking about my sister here.  Dinner parties and cook outs and kids' play dates and family gatherings and business luncheons and community organizations.  Always with someone, never a moment alone.  Always on the phone, always texting.  These are the people who say they never have a minute to themselves, they never get to do what they want to do, they never have a second of peace.  They pay lots of money to go to the spa just to sit for an hour or two in a quiet atmosphere, alone, to do something "nice" for themselves.  Sometimes people choose the chaos in their lives.  They say yes to another BBQ at a neighbor's house on Saturday, when what they really want to do is sit by their own pool and read a magazine alone.  Every year for Mother's Day, my sister's gift from her husband is- he gets up early and takes the kids off for the entire entire day, so my sister can be alone.  That is what she wants, the gift of being alone for awhile.  And maybe this is all easy for me to say because I don't have children.

I don't think I'm weird or antisocial for preferring to be by myself during the day!  Am I??

MISS GEE

Doing What You Do

Today has been a "good" day, so I thought I would blog while I was in a rare positive mood.  The day started off with an 8AM mammogram, which I had been putting off for over two years because I was too busy.  Yes, that's a crappy excuse.  It took ten minutes.  I've been getting mammograms since I was 35, because my mom is a breast cancer survivor and of course I worry about my likelihood of getting it as well.  Mammograms do not hurt, I don't care what anyone says, so please don't let that scare you away from them if you are at that age.  Two seconds of discomfort, in exchange for peace of mind, is a small price to pay.

As soon as I got home, I unloaded my kiln which was full of all the jewelry pieces I've been making over the last two weeks.  Just in the bisque stage now, but I think glazing is always the most fun part anyhow.  I am anxious to see how everything will turn out, especially the buttons and beads.  I've seen so many great handmade ceramic buttons selling on Etsy.  I had been thinking about making buttons and beads for a long time, so when I saw lots of them on Etsy, I was very encouraged to know there is a market out there for them.  I don't sew, just a little cross-stitch here and there, but I know a one of a kind handmade button should appeal to someone out there for their projects.  And with my very very small kiln, that is what I'm going to concentrate on for the time being.  I will still make my tiles and small dishes, but the buttons and beads have been so much fun.

I spent the remainder of the morning working in the yard, and that is a huge effort for me.  I planted eight perennials in our newest flower beds- they've been sitting around in pots and since it's rained the last few days and the ground was super soft, I took advantage of this cloudy morning to get digging. It's a bit of a strain for me, since I have to wear my wrist brace whenever I work in the garden.  Even so, I would have to come inside and rest after every other plant.  I was planning on scheduling my wrist surgery soon, but the other day my doctor revealed the outcome of my latest round of blood tests from last week, and some of the numbers were not good at all.  She recommended postponing the surgery until I can get some of these numbers to come down.  She said surgery at this time- even a minor one- would be too great of a risk.  So alas, I will have to deal with the debilitating pain in my right hand for awhile longer.  Most days I can down a few Motrin and keep going with the brace on.  Some days, that's not enough, and the pain stops me in my tracks.

I am finding that I still struggle with grading myself and my moods, on what I did or didn't "DO" on any given day.  It's ridiculous and I want very much to stop this behavior, because it's digging away at me, and at how I feel about myself and my overall life.  Or rather, this newest phase of my life.  Today I label this a good day, because I was productive and had somewhat good energy, because I finally planted the flowers that have been sitting around outside for a few weeks now, because I filled a box with fired pottery as solid proof that I am indeed working on it, because I've already marinated the meat for dinner and chopped up all the veggies I will roast in the oven tonight.  All because I wanted to.

Yesterday was an unhappy day.  Although I did all my housework- wiped down bathrooms, washed all the clothes, cleaned all the cat litter boxes, vacuumed the entire house, took out all the garbage- I did it all very slowly and with little energy.  It took me the whole day just to do those few things.  I judge myself cruelly because it would have taken a normal woman 2-3 hours to accomplish all of that, and then she would have moved on to something else more important or enjoyable.  My "enjoyment" never came yesterday.  I was tired, achy, and down, and I never had the time or stamina to do anything but the housework. True, I took many many breaks during the day, where I barely had the energy to read a magazine.  But it was one of those days where I could not keep going for more than 15-20 minute stretches before I was in pain and somewhat exhausted.

Monday, to me, my day was completely miserable and I spent the day hating myself and hating my life.  All because I woke up not feeling well.  I didn't even get up with J to see him off to work, I physically couldn't push myself to do it.  I slept late, then just stayed in bed watching TV until late in the day, when it was with tremendous effort that I simply got up to shower and get ready to make dinner.  I don't have many days that are that bad, but I don't even cut myself any slack when I do.  I still feel like I have this timetable hanging over my head, where I must achieve goals or produce work in order to justify my staying at home full time.  Of course that's ridiculous, and no one has those expectations but me.

I don't know why I can't simply tell myself, stop for a minute.  Today I am going to sit in my favorite chair and finish the paperback I've been reading, and that evening I will say wow, I had a wonderful relaxing positive good day today.  Even if reading was the only thing I did for the entire day.  Who do I have to answer to for that?  No one.  No one is going to say, you are fired!  You suck as a human being because you decided to read instead of scrub all the baseboards today. Why can't I be okay with a day here and there where I don't accomplish anything that is task-oriented.  The only thing J stipulated in our agreement for me to quit my job, was that I work on improving my health, and by that he meant not only physical but mental and emotional as well.  I do not have to be physically on my feet and moving every minute from the time I wake up until the time I go to bed, I do not work for a corporation anymore.

I know I am going to have low days, where my medication makes me feel sick, or my pain slows my movements down to a crawl, where I have a crippling migraine and I can't function, and I know my moods may not always be spectacularly happy.  But I don't want to continue to criticize myself so damn harshly on those days, when I don't do a lot.  I don't want to tell J at the dinner table those nights, I had a bad day.  I did not have a "bad" day!

MISS GEE

Carrying On

Yesterday started off as a normal Sunday at our house.  We quietly shared a pot of coffee while we sat in the kitchen and read the paper.  J worked on his laptop for a bit.  I watered the plants on the deck.  We stood on the front porch watching the much needed rain- loving it because our yard is full of colorful lilies right now but dreading it because we know we have a small hole in our roof where it's leaking into our sunroom.  We talked about where we wanted to go out to dinner later that night. Then we had to get ready to leave for the day.  J looked so handsome in his dark suit and tie, and I was able to find the one dress I own that still fits.  I fussed with my hair, my makeup, pairing up my necklace and bracelet.  I remembered to move everything from my brown purse into my black one, to match my dress and shoes.  We both took great care to look groomed and appropriate.  We were going to the funeral of one of J's employees.

Not just any funeral, but that of a young man, several years younger than us.  A man who died unexpectedly while on vacation with his wife and four children. I admit I don't like funerals and rarely go to them.  But J needed the support, so I went.  I'd never met the man, he worked in a department that I never came into contact with at the company.  J said he felt ashamed he didn't know the man better, but J has 400 employees under him, I told him it's impossible to be able to really "know" them all.  The service was two hours long, and at least 200 people were crammed into every seat in the small funeral home's sanctuary.  I'm not a religious person, I couldn't relate to all the talk about this man being in a better place, or how the ceremony wasn't a funeral but a celebration of his passing into heaven.  The only thing I could relate to was the stabbing sobs of the woman he left behind, the wife who loved him and now would have to carry on without him, who repeatedly draped herself over his casket, unwilling to let him go.

Even before the service, in a receiving room filled with grieving family and friends, I instantly knew which person was his wife.  She sat unmoving and staring blankly amid all the animation of hugs and handshakes.  She wore no makeup, her hair was tied back in an unkempt ponytail, she wore glasses when all the surrounding family photos showed she clearly wore contacts on a normal day.  She didn't even have a dress on- just a simple pullover shirt and pants, like she was carefree and headed off to the grocery store. And even though I'd never seen this woman before, I recognized her as the widow because I thought, that would be me. If I lost J, my grief would eat me alive and I in no way could be bothered with my appearance or even pretending to care about it.  I am not sure I would even be able to function at all.  I am not sure I would be able to stay alive long enough to attend the funeral.

I don't think I could live without J.  People say that all the time, "I can't live without you" but I actually literally mean it.  What joy and happiness that I do have in my life, is all because of J and our existence as a couple.  Without J, I doubt I could even get out of bed in the morning.  There is no other reason for me to push daily beyond my depression and chronic pain, except for J.  He is already my "second chance" at love, and I don't believe there would ever be anyone else.  I'm sure I could one day meet someone who might give me a semblance of comfort, but never the passion and love and devotion that J and I have for each other.

Does that mean there is something wrong with my life, that I wouldn't want to keep going without my husband by my side?  I have no children, my parents are elderly, my one sibling and I speak to each other only at holidays.  My few good friends all live in other states and have their own lives.  I don't belong to any organizations, I have zero ties to this community, I don't even have a career that I could get lost in.  So what else is there but J?  Everything else, without him, would be a pointless existence.  I would be going through the motions only, dead inside.  And for what?  For who?

I don't like to think about losing my husband, but sadly I know plenty of young widows my age.  And I know it happens in the blink of an eye, and you are never ready for it.  One friend my age lost her husband of 20 years on a normal workday, when he and coworkers went out for lunch, and a speeding car hit them at an intersection.  He died instantly.  When I kiss J goodbye every morning and send him to the office, I never think to myself, this could be the very last time I see him alive.  And I don't want to think about that.  But I know it's true, and I know it's always a possibility.

J and I try to make each and every moment count when we are together.  I think that's why we go and do so many things on the weekends, why we eat dinner together every night, why we've adopted each other's interests as our own, why our morning ritual is for me to rub his back and our nightly ritual is for him to rub mine.  And even though we like our quiet time apart and alone, when we are together we make it count and make it real.  We met late in life, we know that for us there will never be a golden anniversary.  My mom tells me that J and I have done and seen more together in our short decade, than she and my dad have in their fifty years of marriage.  It's just how we are, and I can't imagine it being any other way.  

More than that, I can't and won't imagine a life without my husband in it.  Our love is my life.

MISS GEE

Agendas

Oh I have to apologize for my previous post, I don't want people thinking I hate my family.  I don't.  I was just tired, frustrated, and venting.  It was a stressful situation that just brought out the worst in me.  J said how people respond to stress shows a lot about their character, so I must really suck as a human being.

But this has been a good week, I am still trying to find a regular routine and rhythm for my days at home.  It is harder than I thought it would be.  I was so great at time management and organization at the office, but now that I'm at home every day, it's like I can't even put my thoughts and actions together long enough to concentrate on making breakfast.  I don't know what it is, but my days have not been very productive.  But I guess that depends on who you ask.  If you ask J, he will say it's all been good because my stress is down, my weight is down, my blood pressure is down.  Those were his goals for me.  But I had my own goals in mind and I am just not quite getting to them.

I've only been at home since the beginning of May, and one of those weeks we were out of town, and another week I spent at the hospital with my parents. Even so, I feel as though I should have accomplished more in this time period.  I have been working on pottery this week, but only for 1-2 hours a day.  I really envision myself making pottery full time, and maybe I will get there.  I still think about my old job a lot, and feel its shadow hovering over me, although I will never be back there again.  J said to stop wasting a single brain cell on that place.  I frequently wake up in the morning, having had a vivid dream about the office.  I suppose those will end one day.  Mentally I still feel like I am on a temporary vacation, instead of trying to focus my energy on making myself a full time stay at home entrepreneur.  I don't know if selling art on Etsy really qualifies me as self-employed or not.  It seems as though I've been working on my notebook of ideas, more than I have actually been making the pottery.

J really wants me to find a place where we can rent a booth and sell antiques and my art.  That seems to have become popular again lately in our area.  But I don't know if that's something I'm interested in doing or not.  We have several places here in town that take antiques on consignment, and plenty of fairs and festivals to get booths at.  I don't feel that organized yet, but I suppose it's something we could look at.  It's not really for the money, I think he's just trying to help me find something to focus on.  I don't know anything about antiques- I know we go to auctions and estate sales, and we buy what we like.  My tastes are very specific, such as vintage pottery and original oil paintings.  I buy a piece because I find it attractive, and I buy things without knowing their true monetary value.  Of course, I usually buy something to go into my home, not to turn around and resell it.  I don't know if I have enough knowledge to buy items cheap at yard sales and auctions, then try to mark them up for profit at an antique booth.  But, I'm still giving it some thought.  In fact on Saturday we're headed up to the starting point of a 90 mile long yard sale, that goes along an old highway through a dozen or more small towns.  I know J is going with the intentions of scoping out deals for selling.

The new medication I'm on since getting out of the hospital in April, still makes me quite sick and slows me down, but some days I feel like I'm just using this as an excuse.  This morning I fell with a thud into the large dresser in our bedroom, J came rushing in to ask if I was okay.  I was.  I just have extreme dizzy spells and sudden weakness in my limbs, and I can't stand up too quickly if I've been sitting for a bit.  I know it's the blood pressure medication, because my BP was so high two months ago, the doctor gave me the strongest meds she could to get it lowered.  Now I think my BP is bottoming out and causing the weakness.  It's kept me from working in the yard (I get sick every time I go out there), and kept me from exercising as much as I would like to.  I have an appointment in two weeks with my doctor, and I will discuss all of this with her, to see if she can lower my dosage.

The bottom line for me is, I am still feeling lost at home and grappling with putting purpose into my daily life.  I didn't quit my job to stay at home and vacuum all day (which literally does take me all day to do because I get very weak after just 2-3 minutes, I have to stop and rest frequently).  Until our upcoming vacation at the end of July, there should be no interruptions to my being at home alone every day, to work on whatever I want to work on.  Be it pottery, exercise, gardening, or even my three blogs.  I feel like I am just whining on here, about all the negatives.  But really there are NO negatives in my life right now!  J graciously opened up a huge doorway into the future for me, to be and do whatever it is I truly desire, to have all the time and tools and opportunity to create the life I want for myself.  Not many husbands can do that for their wives.  And I don't want to squander it away.  J is usually gone for 12 hours a day, sometimes more, and I have absolutely nothing to do except for what I put on my list for the day.

It's almost too overwhelming.  I feel like a little girl who still hasn't decided what she wants to be one day when she finally grows up.  But hell, I'm no kid, I'm almost 50!  Why haven't I figured it all out yet?

MISS GEE

I Am Horrible

Over the last week, I came to realize that the outside world might regard me as a terrible person.  My parents came to see us recently.  They were going to stay a few days then I was going to leave with them for a quick visit back to my hometown.  But on the very first day, my dad took a tumble and broke his hip.  He was rushed to the hospital and had surgery the next morning.  Of course I felt awful for my dad- he is in his 70's but he is very healthy and extremely active and still works full time by choice.  For the next few days, he was in pain and stayed pretty much in a drug-induced stupor.  He slept constantly, waking up only briefly as nurses came and went.  The first physical therapy session the day after his surgery consisted of him walking over to a chair and sitting down.  I was impressed- after my recent shoulder surgery, I couldn't move my arm for at least two weeks and dad was up walking across the room two days after his hip replacement.

I shuttled my mom back and forth from the hospital so she could be with my dad.  Some days I stayed there for hours on end, sitting.  Some days I would stay for a bit then tell her I had to go back home to take care of things, and I'd be back in awhile.  If that had been J, I would have spent every moment at his side- but that was not my husband in the bed, it was her husband.  To me, dad was simply sleeping after a very common and successful surgery- there were no life-threatening issues, and the doctor said he would be moving about independently using a walker or crutches, in two weeks.  My mom likes to hover, I do not.  A 24-hour a day vigil was not needed, although that's what my sister did, sleeping there in my dad's room for her first two nights in town.  I'm sorry that by 7PM I wanted to go back home for the evening and had to take my mom with me- we'd been there since 6:30AM to see him off before his surgery.  I was tired, I was hungry, my back hurt from sitting in his room all day, I wanted to go home and my mom was depending on me to drive her back and forth to the hospital.  She had to leave when I was ready to leave, and I physically couldn't stay there a minute longer.  That must make me a total bitch.

Yes, my sister couldn't stand it anymore and drove the 500+ miles here.  Basically to take over, because that's the kind of person she is.  To her, me sitting with my parents at the hospital while my dad slept, was tantamount to doing absolutely nothing useful, and that wasn't good enough.  As soon as she got here, she convinced my mom to stay in a hotel with her, instead of at my house, because I was a 20 minute drive away compared to the Hilton that was around the corner.  My dad was moved to a rehab center, where they said he would need to stay for another 2-3 weeks for physical therapy.  My sister was hysterical, both she and my mom cried the minute they put him in there.  Because there were "old" people there in wheelchairs, and there was an assisted living facility in the same building, he shouldn't "be" at that kind of place.  Whatever.  In a moment of wakefulness, my dad said to me "well you know your sister and your mom are drama queens, but don't say anything to hurt their feelings."  By the next day, my sister had called in favors and arranged private transport for my dad, and got him admitted to a rehab center back home.  Today, Monday morning, after 9 days of back and forth to the hospital and rehab, they are all gone.

And I am horrible for being very glad of it.  I love my family, and maybe it's because I left my hometown almost 20 years ago and my sister still lives there, but I can only tolerate being around them for very small doses.  My mom and my sister talk incessantly.  They talk to each other about people back home who I don't know, and when they chit chat I am always left out of the conversation.  Being alone with my mother is torture for me, she can't let there be one second of silence.  And she speaks in a baby talk tone to me, which actually makes my stomach ill.  She has to fill the void with words, many of them pointless.  If we are in the car and I'm not talking, she will read street signs and billboards and store names to me, just to have sound in the air.  I can't stand it.  I am very comfortable with not speaking for periods of time, and having quiet around me.  Even when J and I are together, we are okay with not talking.  And I don't speak if there is nothing to say.  It hurts my mom because I don't want to talk nonstop, but that's just how I am and I don't mean to be disrespectful.  I listen, I just don't always feel the need to comment back to her.  And my mom has a tendency to repeat herself multiple times, to the point where I have to say "yes, you told me that already" when she's started the same story for the fifth time.  I just can't take it.  And I know I should be more kind and patient with her, but I'm not.  And I get stressed out too, I just don't always externalize it.

I'm glad that my dad could go spend his recuperation back home- he will have family and friends galore come visit him, his own doctors to take care of him.  If it was me, I would not want to spend a month away from home either.  He was fortunate that he has a good friend who owns a private ambulance company, and that his doctor has political pull to get him into a prominent rehab facility at a moment's notice.  I am glad that my mom will be back in her own home again, comfortable.  I'm sorry that I didn't weep over my dad's hospital bed like my sister and mother did.  It doesn't mean that I don't care.  I just don't necessarily equate sobs and hysterics with love and compassion.  I rarely cry, about anything, but I don't want others to see me as cold and unfeeling.  It just means that my eyes don't leak saline at the drop of a hat.  

If my dad had to stay here in rehab for a month, and my mother had to stay at my house for a month, and I had to drive her back and forth for a month, and if I had to spend my hours sitting in a hard chair every day staring at my dad in bed for a month- I would have done it.  Not with overwhelming joy in my heart, but with the dedication and responsibility a child has to help out their parents in a time of need.  Although I am honest in saying all this, it also makes me feel like a selfish and ungrateful turd.  I'm sure that's exactly what my sister thinks of me right about now.

I'm sorry that I'm relieved and happy that today my house is completely quiet and empty, and I'm not obligated to be anywhere or be around anyone, and I can sit down long enough to finish a cup of coffee and get a load of laundry done.  My dad is where he should be, and his wife and other daughter and grandchildren and friends will all dote on him, instead of him being stuck here with me where no one would come to visit him.  I know my limitations, and here in this town I have no contacts, no influence.  Whatever the doctors said to do, wherever they wanted to send my dad, however long they wanted to keep him there- I could only dutifully show up and drag my mother with me.  Even if I didn't cry over his pain, everything turned out for the best.  And my lack of tears had nothing to do with it.

MISS GEE

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