Waning Across Borders

Well I don't have any appropriate photos for my post today, but I'll find something totally obscure but interesting before I hit publish.  Today, my best friend N is heavily on my mind, and it's because I'm starting to think about letting the relationship go.  I've been friends with her since 2001, when I started working for our company- the same company I just left and the one that J still works at.  This was in the state we lived in prior to coming to our current town.  I met her on day one because she was given the task of training me, so we were side by side from the beginning.  I don't know why we clicked right away, I'm not really sure we've ever had anything in common.  I think we just fell into the relationship because as my "mentor", she and I spent a lot of time around each other, even going to lunch together every day.

N is about ten years older.  She's that friend you can tell almost anything to, but she's not quite open-minded enough to tell everything.  N has always been very sensitive and gets her feelings hurt easily, so with that in mind, I can't really be 100% myself around her because I feel as though I have to watch what I say.  I am a smart ass but I would have to hold back just a little around her, she would even get tears in her eyes when I was making fun of myself.  I've always done my best to try and make her laugh, because if ever there was a woman who needed joy and brightness in her life, it's N.  She has very old-fashioned values and a very submissive nature, and I know I can be overbearing sometimes.  I would give her advice to speak up to her husband or boss, and she would say oh my goodness I couldn't do that.  Really, she didn't cuss at all, and I have a mouth like a sailor so I tried to behave around her, but it's not really in my nature to be prim and proper.

When I met N, she was probably in her early 40's.  But even back then she had completely gray hair (she's always been "afraid" to color it), she wore sad and frumpy clothes, unflattering flat plain shoes, and gigantic granny glasses.  Mind you, I will be 47 this year, and I can't imagine appearing out in public that way. My 70-year-old mother dresses hipper than N did at 45.  I don't think N stopped caring about how she looked, because although her clothes were in a style that was 20 years too old for her, she did shop at the nicer department stores and bought quality.  She wore makeup and jewelry and went frequently to have her hair "done", so she was always put together quite well.  N had two sons whom she adored and doted on, although both had moved away to towns that were close enough yet far enough away from their mom.  She talked about her sons more than anything else.

I will say that N was one of the many catalysts in my decision to divorce W.  I would never ever tell her this, because it would break her heart, but whenever I was around N and her husband I would see my future with W and think, damn I have to get out of my marriage as soon as I can.  N's husband was very much like W, in fact he was a tad worse.  I am not sure if it's just a coincidence, but N and her husband are originally from the same northern state as my ex.  I don't like to use the word Yankee, it's somewhat of a crude stereotype and slur like Redneck is to me just because I'm from the south, but perhaps it's a fitting description nonetheless.  N's husband was as cruel as they come, screaming at her, cussing at her, calling her evil names, taking out all his frustrations and inadequacies on her, taking it for granted that he could treat her any way he wanted and knowing that she was going to shut up and take it.  Extremely abusive verbally and mentally, a terrible temper that he freely expressed, running their debt up on selfishness and not caring.  An example of the type of man and husband he is: One day they went to a local deli to pick up sandwiches for the whole family (both sons were visiting), and he waited in the car for her- the deli was very busy, he got tired of waiting on her, and just drove home without letting her know. She came out of the deli with everyone's food to find her husband gone, and she had to call one of her sons to come pick her up. So, her husband was a complete asshole to say the least.

Luckily I didn't have to be around him much- most of our socializing was at work and at lunch.  We did the occasional dinner or weekend brunch out, along with our other friend (the one you CAN openly tell everything to and she will think it's absolutely freakin' hysterical).  But I was around N and her husband enough to see more of their interactions than I cared to, and it made me realize that if I stayed married to W, that would be me for the rest of my life.  I would become N.  At that time, W's verbal abuse was just getting worse, and he had started to put his hands on me in anger- I knew I had to get out, I knew I could not be like N and continue to get my soul crushed by my husband's meanness for all the years to come.

I am not sure if N ever thought about leaving her husband, the other girlfriend and I discussed that repeatedly when N wasn't with us.  N is the type of person who is terrified of change, or taking chances, or even reaching out to others.  She has horrendous self-doubts, more severe than mine ever were and like W did to me, she's let her shithead husband put her down for so many years that she honestly believes she is next to worthless.  That's why, after 14 years with the company, she is still at the same menial clerk job making very little money- she tells me she's too dumb to do anything else when the truth is she's the hardest working and sharpest employee in the office.  And it's why she is still in a loveless marriage to a man who is dragging her down. But all these years later N is approaching 60, and she is now saddled with the extra burden of her karma-stricken husband's failing health and unemployment.  She already lost her chance, she is at that point of no return where leaving her husband now would give the appearance of abandonment, and not liberation.  Her sons, now adults, have started to treat her in a similar fashion as their father always has- crass language, dismissive, impatience blowing up into unexcused rudeness, utter disrespect. And like she does with her husband, N continues to adore them and glibly explains away their behavior while tears form in her eyes and her voice chokes.  I want to tell her, that's probably why they are both in their 30's and not married.  That is the reason you don't have grandchildren yet.  Your sons are turning into jerks and no modern day woman is going to put up with that crap.

In all the years we've been friends, N has always struggled with finding any pride in herself.  As far as she can see, there is nothing positive in her life.  She's unhappy at work, unhappy at home.  Since I moved, our relationship has been relegated to IM's, emails, and weekend phone calls that normally last well over an hour.  Since I've known her N has always been a Debbie Downer- she's so deeply unhappy and negative, she cries at the drop of a hat, she gets upset over the slightest ripple in her ocean.  And when we talk, this is what I listen to for an hour each time.  Never one ounce of delight in her tone, her words, her subject matter.  It's always, woe is me. And I know I of all people should be patient with her, with the realization that like me, she also probably suffers from untreated depression.  But it seems like my job in the relationship has always been to stay upbeat and try to make her smile.  It's very one-sided.  I could never in a million years, talk to her about any marriage issues, because her marriage is at rock bottom.  I couldn't complain about my job because things were always harder at hers.  I couldn't talk about wanting a new car, because hers was even older.  I couldn't find any "safe" subject. Lately I find there is very little I can talk comfortably to her about.  I have to tiptoe around everything I want to say and share with her, normal everyday things most friends would chat about with each other.  It's making our friendship a heavy weight, but I'm not one to turn my back.  At least not yet.

N has never taken vacations- either her husband doesn't want to go anywhere or they don't have the money. It makes me feel guilty gushing over all our exploits on the road, so I rarely share photos or stories with her about our travels, for fear of making her wistful.  And she's not even on Facebook so she sees nothing of my life, and I put everything out there!  Now that I'm not working, I try to play down my growing sense of well-being in life, knowing that her husband is not working and she doesn't have the same luxury as I do as far as leaving her job.  I never never never ever discuss anything related to money, because every time I say we did something or bought something or went somewhere, she would say with a huge stabbing sigh, I wish I could do that too. Never, oh wow that sounds like so much fun, I am happy for you.  If I talk about our house, she talks about how old and outdated hers is and she wants to move.  If I talk about losing weight, she grumbles about how hard she tries but can't seem to lose.  If I show her my pottery, she counters with how untalented she is.  Not only can I not share my happy moments with her, I can't share my down moments with her because she will always say she's fatter, broker, sicker than I am.  So that is why J is my shoulder to lean on when I need it, not my best friend N.

It doesn't matter what subject I try to bring up, she always has something negative about herself or her life to push back at me.  I love her dearly, but I am at a crossroads.  I haven't seen her in about two years and more than likely I will probably never see N again, I just don't have any reason to drive the 300 miles and go back to visit our old hometown and old state.  When we first moved here, J and I went home about once a month for a long time, because we still had our old home on the market.  I always made sure to connect with N.  But I know she will never come to visit me, she's told me before she would be scared to get on the highway and drive that far alone.  I've invited her repeatedly to come stay with me for a few days, take some time off and relax and kick back with me- I'll take her to the city and we'll have girlfriend fun.  As for me, I admit I would never go stay with her, I would be afraid of what I would say or do to that jackass she's married to.  He cussed her out right in front of me plenty of times in the past, as though breaking her down was a spectator sport.  I could not stand to be around him so much that I would never bunk down at N's house for even a weekend visit.  I would probably beat him to death before Saturday night rolled around.

When she called me this weekend, I let it go to voicemail.  Repeatedly.  Once on Saturday, and twice on Sunday.  I was having a very awesome weekend with J, and in a great mood, and when I saw her calls all I could think about was how conversations with her are so painfully agonizing and somewhat unpleasant.  So I didn't call her back.  Monday morning I sent her an email and lied to say I was sorry, my phone had been shut off all weekend and I didn't realize she'd called.  I just decided I didn't want to talk to her, to listen to the distress and hurt in her voice as she talked about how lazy and mean her husband was being, how the boss walked by her desk but did not speak to her while saying hello to the coworker beside her, how she wants to repaint her bathroom but can't afford it and even if she could she's always too tired.  I felt like an awful person for choosing not to return her calls, but I had to step back and say, I am feeling upbeat right now and no matter how much of my bliss I try to share, none of it is ever going to rub off on her. And it made me sad.

It made me sad that I can't openly tell her about my life because my joy makes her even sadder.

MISS GEE

(Okay here is my chosen totally unrelated photo, the new beads I just unloaded from my kiln moments ago- getting them listed on Etsy today- to celebrate all the things that are good in my world since I took my leap of faith and started my new life with J.)

Random Thoughts Pictorial

One thing I love about the blogs I am following here, are all the photos.  Most of them always include lots and lots of pics with each post.  I take my photos with a camera- although I have an older iPhone the quality of the photos are not great.  I know these days the younger folks use their phones for capturing their life in color and I am always impressed with the shots.  So today I am posting some very random thoughts based on some recent photos I've been scrolling through. I want to plan on putting more than one photo with each of my posts if I can in the future.

*****

I am a terrible gardener, really.  I am lazy, I hate to be outside in the heat and humidity and bugs of the southern summers.  I hate to weed, I pay for it the next day in the form of anguishing back pain.  I want a veggie garden so very much, but J has convinced me it's too much work for me to keep up with.  But I love flowers.  That's why I always plant perennials every spring, and a lot of bulbs specifically.  Less work, more payoff.  I've been planting new bulbs each spring since we moved into the house, and I love them and love to show them off.  They bloom brilliantly every year without fail.

*****

As an artist, I love to collect old artwork and paintings.  It's one of the things I look for at all the estate sales and auctions we go to.  If it's someone else's original art, I hate to let it get away from me.  It's not like an old piece of Tupperware or a dusty basket.  It was a project someone put their heart and soul and talent into.  I feel compelled to "rescue" it and give it a new home.  I prefer landscapes, I don't know why.  Maybe it's because I'm terrible at painting nature scenes myself.  Auctions are great places to find art- I've paid as little as $2.00 for an original framed oil painting, just because no one else wanted it.  I have very little space left on our walls, yet I'm always on the lookout for another new painting.

*****

The last random thought for today- we love lighthouses.  It's an interest that neither had in the past, it's a passion we developed together on our very first vacation as a new couple.  Whenever we go on vacation, we are always near water, and we always scout out the nearest lighthouse. Be it on a marsh, on the ocean, at the mouth of a river or large lake.  We always seem to find one.  If it's climbable, J is going to go up to the top.  I've climbed a few with him in our younger years, but lately I just enjoy them from the outside.  Our vacation last week, we hiked a very long mosquito-infested trail just to get a shot of the small one below in the first photo.  We've gone to lighthouses from the East Coast to the West Coast, from Canada to Key West.  We love them!

MISS GEE

Tuesday's Child

Back from vacation, above.  It wasn't our greatest trip ever with some travel arrangement mix-ups, and being randomly selected and severely hassled by the border patrol for no reason- which made J state that he will never never ever go back to Canada again.  But J was away from work for a week and could relax his brain and body for a short time, and that is what our vacations are all about.  J gets 4 weeks of vacation a year, I used to get 3.  So we would take 3 week long vacations and J would use his other days off here and there.  One vacation is always back to my hometown to visit my parents, but since they live on the beach it's a conveniently good place to waste a few days anyhow.  The other two weeks we always try to go somewhere we've never been before.  I am trying to convince J that maybe instead of just two week long trips, we can find places closer to home and take multiple long weekends, taking off maybe 1-2 days at a time.  We would get to travel more that way.  But he says unless he's off for an entire week from work, he doesn't really feel the benefits of time away. Honestly, the older I get, I really don't like being away from home for an entire week.

But the fact is, as far as travel goes, we can pretty much do anything we want and go anytime or anywhere we pick.  If he came home today and said, let's take Friday off and head to the mountains, we would zip out of here on Thursday night without a second thought.  It's easier now that I'm not working, but even when I had a job it was not a huge deal for me to ask to schedule a day off.  And I think the main reason for all of this is, we don't have children.  I've brought up the subject before, but last night I really had a moment where I reflected hard on it.  Yes, when J and I married we were in our very late 30's, and although we were hopeful and we tried to get pregnant it never happened.  Even now at 46, I don't use birth control and haven't since the day we said our "I do's", but I know the likelihood of pregnancy is super low.  I might as well plan on winning the lottery instead.  I've been premenopausal for the last few years, with very unpredictable cycles, sometimes (like right now) I go 2-4 months without a period.  I know, way too much information, even for a semi-anonymous blog.

Last night after dinner, we got an SOS from friends of ours.  They are just a few years older, which means they are nearing 50.  They've been married for over 20 years.  They recently bought a wonderful big home on a large piece of property, and have done an awesome job of landscaping, planting fruit trees and a veggie garden.  She's been canning berries and making jam and homemade pies.  He works full time, and she part time at a church daycare.  She also sells her art online. They have a cat and four dogs. We go out with them from time to time, to dinner or to auctions, and they throw great parties at their house.  But for the last year or so, they've been in the system to try to get a foster child with the hopes of permanently adopting.  The husband himself was adopted, so he feels like it's something he wants to do for another child in need, and I commend him for that- although he has a grown son from a previous marriage, they do not have a child together.  They've gotten their hopes up before, with the promise of a foster child coming their way, only to have the system bog down and phone calls never returned, or paperwork never forwarded.  Typical bureaucratic BS.  At the last few auctions we've gone to together, they've bought items that a child would need- a little red wagon, a bicycle, a desk, an old trunk to store toys.  There is a room ready and waiting.  They've been taking the required parenting classes throughout the year.

Yesterday they received word that today, they may be able to get not one child, but three siblings.  So last night we volunteered our pickup truck and helped them scramble to go get a bed from another friend who had one to spare.  Today they are waiting for that phone call, again.  This will be the third or fourth time they've gone through this, expecting news.  This time they seem more hopeful, that the call this morning from their case worker will be the one to say, come and meet your new children.  

J and I talked briefly about adopting a baby, long ago when it became evident we weren't going to get pregnant.  He was open to it, I was not.  I took the opinion that, if he and I couldn't conceive a child of our own, that was the universe telling us not to have kids.  I still have that opinion, but I apply that only to the two of us.  I don't have that viewpoint for anyone else but me, and obviously adoption is a wonderful and amazing gift to a child and couple.  I have plenty of friends who have gone through it.  It just wasn't a decision I felt was right for the two of us, at this point in our lives.  If we had adopted even in our early 40's, I thought about the long term implications.  We would be 60 and raising a teenager.  We would be 65 and getting Social Security, yet paying for a kid in college.  Then we would have a child just starting out in life as a young adult, but dealing with putting mom and dad in an old folks' home.  Wow, that just didn't seem right.

Our friends are overjoyed at the prospect of having a foster child, even multiple children and sight unseen at that.  They didn't think twice about taking three small children- two sisters and their little brother.  I know I couldn't do it.  I could not, at almost 50, take on a four-year-old boy with all the energy and mischievous ways that little boys have bottled up inside of them.  It would crush me to the bone.  I have delightfully devilish nephews whom I adore- I know what little boys are like.  The girls, I believe, are 7 and 8.  My head spins at the thought.  Play dates, homework, bake sales, school plays, birthday parties.  I couldn't keep up with it.  J is gone from the house from 7AM to 7PM and later, with the type of job where he can't leave at three because his kid has a softball game.  We are hoping to retire when we are in our 50's, and we could only achieve that nearly impossible dream that none of our other friends will be able to do, because we didn't have children.  I do joke that when I'm on my deathbed, no one will come to visit me, but hopefully the rest of my life with J will be so spectacular that I won't care. 

I know our friends will make wonderful parents, they are funny and warm and loving people.  He works with J, and works the same long hours away from home. It makes me wonder how he will be able to find the time and energy to devote to three small children, who will need a great deal of support and stability and commitment.  Will she have to quit her job, one that she loves so much?  I have no doubt they will find a way to raise a family, whether or not they bring home children today or get once again shuffled back to the waiting game.  I've had my moments where it made me wonder, was I a bad person for telling J adoption was not a viable choice for us.  Did I rob him?  He is the only son of an only son, there will be no one to carry on that family name.  I think that he's okay with where we are in life, our early retirement plans, our little world of just two (and the kitties, always).  When we go out and see kids in public having a screaming temper tantrum, we look at each other and bust out with a laugh and say, wow did we ever really want that?  Is that what we're missing out on?  But sometimes I secretly worry that maybe he did want that for us and now it's too late.

MISS GEE

Happiness Scale

So I would give it a 6 right about now, maybe a weak 7...

It's a 7 right now because we leave for vacation on Saturday, so as always I'm full of anticipation and excitement.  But at these times, I'm also always filled with anxiety- did I pack everything, will the house burn down while we're gone, did the hotel lose our reservations, if it doesn't rain all week will my flowers die, will the kitties be okay (even though we have a lovely British lady who comes to check on them).  I can't shut off that worrywart side of me.

But this is a quarterly report for myself.  As in, it's been about 3 months now since I started staying at home full time.  I do miss my $50,000 annual paycheck, but I do not miss everything I went through to earn it.  We've adjusted our lifestyle to compensate for the loss of income, and so far, we're doing okay. Although in the last three months, I've been piling up the medical bills.  $800 yesterday at the dentist for a broken tooth, and that's added to the hospital bills from April we are still getting.  Not to mention all the new prescription medications.  And I've been to a few different doctors since the hospital, at least once a week it seems.  Tomorrow I go for yet more blood tests- I feel as though those will never end.  I have three appointments in one week scheduled already for the start of August. And I know that once I get back from vacation, I can no longer put off having surgery on my wrist, so I think 2013 will finish off with even more medical bills.  It sucks folks.  Even though we have insurance- which we pay dearly for- our out of pocket expenses are crazy too.  Thankfully J so far has been extremely healthy- since he and I have been together, I have lost track of all my medical situations.  Perhaps it's just that I'm in my 40's and things are starting to break down, I don't know!

My health issues keep my happiness level down.  I think I could be a 8 or 9 if all the aches and pains were gone.  I still have things I physically can't do around the house, things that a normal person takes for granted. But it's getting better.  I hope that once I have my wrist surgery, the healing process will be quick and that this will be the last thing I have go wrong.  I had shoulder surgery in early 2011 and that took almost these past two years to recover from, and just when I started feeling better and normal again, the issue came up with my right wrist (DeQuervain's if you care to read up on it).  Before my shoulder issue it was my lower back, and I spent at least 3 years in and out of different doctors' offices and pain clinics with that.  I know J probably must feel like he bought a lemon, only he can't trade me in for a newer version.

Before I stopped working, my happiness level was barely a 1.  Maybe on the weekends it would be a 4, because though I spent my weekends with J, we were working our butts off trying to catch up on house and yard work, and the dreaded Monday morning always hung over me.  I would try to relax on Friday evenings, but even if we were downtown on the square eating pizza, I was sitting there fretting over what I had to do on Monday morning.  The job devoured me, so my happiness- when I did manage to feel it- was a fleeting morsel at best.  One I barely got to taste before the bitterness of a new workweek settled in.

But I said it's a 6 or 7 now, so I know life is slowly getting better for me.  And for J too, I hope.  Since April, I've lost almost 25 pounds which has helped my mood and my energy.  J has lost quite a bit of weight too, because we no longer leave work together at 7:30 at night and stop at Zaxby's or Dairy Queen or Taco Bell for dinner.  J can come directly home and I have a healthy dinner waiting- baked chicken and roasted veggies and a salad.  I know his happiness level has gone up because of that.  After dinner he has the time now to go outside and shoot basketball, or go down to the basement and play tennis on the Wii.  Before, when we were both working and would stop for dinner, sometimes 3-4 times a week, it would be after 9pm when we got home.  We slumped on the couch then fell into bed.  No home life at all during the week.  J said having me home to cook dinner, has been so wonderful for him, and he enjoys it.  Not to mention, it saves money as well.

I feel better too, now that I've gotten my pottery listed on Etsy- and made sales already!  It's encouraged me to continue to work on my art, which has started to make me feel as though I have a purpose again.  Okay, I'm not going to get rich at $5 or $10 a crack, and that's not my goal anyhow.  Yes, I've seen people on Etsy making similar items to mine, with 4,000+ sales.  Maybe that will be me one day, who knows, and it's okay if that isn't my destiny.  My Etsy shop has definitely helped me get to a 6 on the happiness scale.  The more I work on my pottery, the better I am feeling.  It's been what I've wanted to do for so long now, and to finally be there, makes me enjoy hopping out of bed in the mornings to "go to work" as it were.  Even today, when I am so very busy packing and getting the house cleaned before we leave, I know I will be upstairs shortly cranking out more of my handmade jewelry pieces.

All in all, things are better for me on most days.  I find I have highs and lows.  Although my energy and my moods are improving, it seems that it's every other day right now.  I have days where I am super productive and scurry about like a worker ant for the entire 12-13 hours that J is at work.  The next day I feel so tired, if all I do is a load of laundry, it's a great accomplishment.  J says I try to do too much on my "up" days.  Too much for me that is.  For most women, the amount of housework or exercise I do on one of my good days, would look like a vacation day for them.  Seeing as I don't have children to keep up with, I suppose my daily to-do list will always be abbreviated compared to a mom.  But I am okay with that, too.

When I left my job, the mantra that J kept repeating was, "It will be good for our relationship."  And he is right.  As my happiness level increases, I can see how much better he's been feeling as well.  I never knew how much my dark moods brought him down, and he would never put voice to it.  But I can definitely tell how my happier moods lighten his burdens of "taking care" of my mental and emotional health.  When I was sad, J was always sad along with me, and some days I think he made himself crazy trying to lift my spirits and shake me out of my blue spells.  Now I'm doing a much better job of lifting myself up, and freeing him to concentrate his love and energy on other parts of our marriage and home life.  And that in turn makes me even happier!

MISS GEE

(My "art studio"- aka the bonus room upstairs...)

Shadows

I am upset with myself over my last post.  I really just wanted to talk about my art and how I felt about it, and how it was going.  But instead I once again let feelings about my ex W, creep into the conversation.  And I don't know why.  I know I started this blog so I could hash out all the things kept deep in my brain and heart, but why do so many of my posts turn into me dissecting the corpse of my first marriage.  I realize that a lot of who I am today and how I look at myself, are lingering feelings from that time period.  Do not get me wrong.  There are no lingering feelings for him, at all.  None.  For a long time, I hated him. Now I feel nothing at all. Sometimes I'm curious enough to Google him, but nothing relevant ever comes up.  On the search pages, his last listed address was our old house, and he moved out of there in 2004.  Apparently he has his own business back in our old town, but it's a very generic website that has his name but no other info.  For all I know, he could be remarried with kids and a beautiful wife, lovely home, expensive sports car.  He may have kicked the drugs and gotten his life together. He was a miserable abusive jackass and addict when we were married, but people change, people turn over new leaves every day.

I don't know why I dwell on him or our marriage.  I don't have a lot of experience with divorce in my family. Other than one uncle, I'm the only person on either side who has been divorced.  Seriously.  Out of all the parents' siblings, my cousins, etc., no one has been divorced.  I guess that speaks highly of my family tree.  And maybe that's why it makes me feel super low that here I am, that one branch with the rotten apple hanging on it.  But that was in the past, and obviously I've moved on and my life with J is amazing and almost magical now.  Divorce is still a stigma though.  I don't like thinking of J as my "second" husband.  Yet I don't hide the fact that I've been married and divorced before.  I should call J my "forever" husband I suppose.

J understands, I hope.  I am actually wife #3 for him.  Yes, it's true.  He was twice divorced when I met him, which should have sent up red flags but I was already so in love, I didn't care.  Even today, ten years later, I don't even give it a second thought.  The first time J was married, he was very young, barely out of his teens. She was his first girlfriend, and they rushed into marriage, he said not because he loved her but because he thought it was expected of him.  It lasted about a year- she cheated on him, he left, they divorced.  The second time he was still young, in his 20's, he said he was at a very low point in his life and one day he ran into a girl he used to date.  He said he was so deeply lonely that they went to dinner, he got incredibly drunk, and asked her to run off and marry him.  Needless to say, that marriage lasted slightly longer than the blink of an eye- she ran up his credit cards, left him, and he had to file bankruptcy.  By the time I met J in his mid-30's, he had been divorced for probably a decade and was just coming out of a relationship of 2 years (which for him was long term) with another woman who cheated on him then dumped him for the other guy.  J was damaged goods when our paths crossed, for certain.  He had his guard up, and although he was wonderful to me from the very beginning, it took a long time for me to break down that barrier.

But J is over all of it, it's as though none of those other women ever existed, like they never hurt him.  All he sees is me.  He doesn't talk about them, and I would bet money that he doesn't even think about them.  Which is why I think it's hard for him to comprehend how I still get bogged down mentally and emotionally, and feel trapped in all the old labels- stupid, fat, worthless, lazy- that W placed on me.  J thinks I'm wonderful- smart, funny, pretty, kind.  Those are the only labels that should matter.  W hated his mother, barely spoke to her.  J adores his mom, we visit his parents as often as possible.  So the old cliche about how a man treats his mother is how he will treat his wife, is true.  W showed me as much disdain as he did his mom and two sisters.  J would do anything in the world for his mother and two sisters and three nieces. Amazing that two men raised in a family of women, would learn to treat them so differently.  Both men had parents that were still married, both men had hard-working fathers.  I am not sure why J continued on that path of goodness and love and warmth, and why W splintered off to the point that he would tell me repeatedly, "All women are whores.  You, my mother, my sisters, my niece.  All women."

The one difference that I know of, is that W's father was horribly and openly promiscuous throughout the entire marriage.  When W was small, his father would leave him in the car while he went to "visit" the other ladies in his life.  Later on when W was an adult, his father was still carrying on with other women, and his mother turned a blind eye to it.  Obviously W had a skewed vision when it came to women- the ones his father cheated with, and his mother who chose not to stand up and put a stop to it.  Of course, W told me all of this after we were already separated and weeks away from our date in divorce court.  Perhaps if he had bothered to share this with me sometime during our 13-year relationship, it's something we could have gotten him counseling for.  He so very much needed it.  On the other hand, J's parents have a strong marriage and they are very deeply devoted to their church, their community, and above all else, family. J had a strict upbringing, had to work hard on their farm alongside his sisters, and lived nextdoor to his grandmother.  He sees women as tender partners, not the enemy.  Even though his previous "partners" all cheated on him, used him, abandoned him- he could have hardened his heart against the female race.  Yet he still continues to be a loving man.

The mere fact that W hated all women so much, should be enough to lighten my burden.  It wasn't me, it wasn't anything at all about me.  It wouldn't have mattered who his wife was at that time, he would have treated her as roughly as he treated me.  He would have dismissed her feelings, belittled and degraded her, he would have continued to crush her spirit, the same way he did me.  Whatever anger he felt for his father's many mistresses, or his meek mother, he was taking it out on me.  No matter what I did, it wouldn't have changed him or his actions. W was my past, never more to speak one single ugly word to me. I've got to let it go.  He can't define me anymore.

I have an amazing father- supportive and caring and attentive- so I have a great role model for the perfect husband and marriage.  Meeting J was that light bulb moment for me.  I didn't have to stay trapped in a cold, hellish life with W.  I could be in a normal relationship.  Someone out there did find me attractive.  Here was a man who listened to me, respected me, wanted to be with me, didn't argue with me constantly. He called me by sweet nicknames and not "you fucking bitch".  Here was someone who wanted to lift me up, not push me down.  This man would take care of me, hold me, find joy with me, and want to be with me always.  Someone who actually appreciated me for being me.

Here was a man who epitomized the word love.  I am so eternally grateful that I found him.

MISS GEE

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