A Crisis of Being

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MISS GEE

Motionless

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MISS GEE

On Even Ground

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MISS GEE

Green, Not Blue, One Year Later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MISS GEE

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

As Time Goes By

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MISS GEE

---Home Sweet Home---

Streamlining

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

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

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

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

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

 MISS GEE

Smiling This Week

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MISS GEE

Not Sure Why

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MISS GEE

Winter Blues

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A BLUE MISS GEE

Comfy Cozy Content

J zipped out of the house this morning at 6:30, for an early meeting at work, then a flight with his boss to go visit another division out of state.  Nothing exciting, just to look at new equipment our warehouse is getting this year, to watch how it works, etc.  J wasn't thrilled, he is incredibly busy this week, and to keep him out of the office for two days means he will probably have to work from home all weekend to get caught up.  He may be an upper level manager, but he still has reports and deadlines and projects.  He's been grumpy all week because of this trip, and he'll be back very late tomorrow night.  It's cold here this morning, down in the teens, the kind of cold that penetrates the windows and even though the heat is running, I'm still wearing a sweater inside.  All four of the cats are huddled around the fireplace, waiting for the sun to come up- and through the windows- so they can stretch out on the floor and get warm.  We only had enough creamer in the house this morning for one cup of coffee, and I let J have it.  I braved the cold temps and headed out to the store not long after he left, because me without java is like me without oxygen.  I won't survive for long.  And me having coffee without creamer is like, well, just gross.

I had the conversation again this past weekend with J, about me not working.  He is still standing firm about me staying at home.  I think he likes me being at home more than I do, and as long as he feels that way I'm okay with it.  He said if I get to the point where I'm just utterly miserable at home, then we'll talk. He's still concerned about me socializing, which is very low on my list of priorities.  Frankly, even most people out there in the world communicate primarily by emails and texts these days.  So I don't believe that staying at home is quite as isolating as it used to be.  I know he would go nuts, but he doesn't have many solo hobbies, and he doesn't even like to read.  I do still go see my physical therapist, although not quite as often, and she and I have become friends over the years.  I talk to my girlfriend back home on the phone, although those are very one-sided conversations.  Her crying and whining and me sighing heavily while I listen.  I don't enjoy talking to her at all, but I do it out of loyalty and love.  And I do still have my group support meetings every Friday morning, where I spend an hour with the same folks each week.  But J feels as though that's not enough.  He has been strongly encouraging me to go start the yoga classes at the studio I've been eyeing, and to start classes at one of the craft stores (our little town has a Michael's, Jo-Ann's, and Hobby Lobby!) in the evenings or weekends.  I'm up for all of that, I just haven't gotten to that place yet where I'm ready to commit.  I know, that sounds silly, it's not like I don't have the time.  Right now, I just don't have the energy.  I'm still working on it- the more my depression eases, the more I'm excited to go back to doing yoga or to learn a new craft.

Both of our health issues are getting better, and J believes it is 100% because of my being at home.  He said he's afraid that if I go back to work, all of our progress will start to backslide.  J is at the lowest weight he's ever been at since I've known him, and although he's still going out to lunch with the guys at work, every morning I get up and fix him a healthy breakfast, and every night when he gets home I have a healthy dinner waiting on him.  That never happened when I was working out of the house.  With the cold weather, J has been craving soup for dinner almost every night and I've been trying out new recipes.  We both know that the tendency to gain weight is high in the winter, with yummy casseroles and hefty roasts the norm, so we've made a conscious decision to eat lighter instead.  Roasted veggies, soups, and yes even salads.  We still go out to eat on the weekends, but not every weeknight like we were doing when I was trudging out of the office at 7pm.  I'm still working on my own battles, but the number on the scale is steadily going down.  I know it also gives him peace of mind that I can increasingly do more of the household chores that always fell on his shoulders in the past.  The other day he told me how much he enjoyed having the bed made every day now.  Before, I ran out of the house so fast in the mornings that at night when we were exhausted, we fell into a mess of tangled sheets and blanket.  It's amazing how something so simple, could please him so much.  And I'm thankful they are things I can continue to give him, give us.

We did talk about downsizing our vacations and trips this year, and J said he plans to stay out of the casinos.  All of that was okay, back when we had my paycheck as our disposable income to play with.  We haven't been to any auctions or estate sales lately, simply because we got bored with them, we used to go two and three times a month and spend way too much.  The last few weekends, J has been extremely content to stay at home and work in the garage and basement.  Even though we still have a lot of winter left, he's cleaning up the garage now.  He has decided to take a stab at learning some woodworking skills on his own, and on a recent trip to see his folks, his dad loaded up the back of our truck with cedar from trees he cut down.  J has a garage filled with tools that he never uses, so for 2014 his promise to himself was to start staying at home on the weekends, and be happy about it.  I don't think we need to be on a lake or a boat or in a casino in order for him to relax and detoxify his soul.  In the past, after a long week of stress at work, J always wanted to escape and we almost always went out of town every weekend.  He vowed to himself to slow down and start enjoying his home, his yard, his real life.  I hope he does, life is too short, and we both have to learn to love the one we are living right now.  If I can help him with it, that makes me extremely happy.

MISS GEE

My Little Black Book

I am a list maker.  I have been all of my life.  I write lists almost obsessively.  I write everything and anything.  Every morning I sit at the breakfast table and make out my to-do list for the day, and hope that this is the day I'll get the items all crossed off (unlikely, I'm a bit too ambitious when that first cup of coffee hits me).  I even get excited to start a new grocery list each week.  Seriously.  But I'm notorious for not finishing whatever I do start writing, like journals.  Or blogs.  Or the great American novel.  :(  So I decided I would not take on that ancient tradition of starting a new diary on January 1st.  Nor did I make my proclamation of resolutions.

Maybe it's my age, but I don't really do the New Year's resolution thing anymore.  I have goals in mind for myself, but they're a little more specific than "lose weight" or "save money".  And normally they are goals I've been working on for awhile and just need to continue chasing down.  This week I was cleaning up some things in the basement and J asked if I could find a small notebook he could use, and when I brought one up for him I flipped open into the middle of it and found a list of personal goals I had written in 2000!  It was three pages long!  Yes, really.  Normally I would be uptight about sharing something like that, but I decided that if 2014 was going to be the year I loosened up and let go and opened myself up to all life has to throw at me- this would be a good test.  So instead of hiding it in embarrassment I gave it to J, and he proceeded to read out the entire list.  We laughed about a lot of the items, because they are still things I'm struggling with now.  Some of them, I couldn't remember writing down because they were issues I overcame a long time ago.  Even J said about some of the worst ones, hey you don't do this.  I said, this list is from before we met, I was a very different person back then.

At the office I used to have lists posted everywhere.  Sticky notes on my computer, handwritten lists on my whiteboard, electronic reminders that popped up on my email first thing every morning.  Even with my morning to-do list here at home, it hasn't been enough for me, because they get crumpled up and thrown out every evening.  The next day I'm fumbling around saying, uhm, what did I do yesterday?  So instead of a new journal this year, I went to the office supply store and bought one of those appointment books, a big one that has one entire page per day and broken down into every quarter hour.  And I've been writing everything down.  Everything.  Even if it's just taking out the garbage or unloading the dishwasher.  Even if it's recycling old magazines or gathering up clothes for the next Goodwill run. Everything.  At the end of the day, I can look back and say, wow, I am accomplishing things.  It seems like a stupid little undertaking, but filling out every small detail from my day into that appointment book, has made a world of difference to me so far.  And I'm being honest in it.  If I sat reading for an hour or soaked in a hot bath for awhile, I write that down too.

My depression seemed to deepen at the end of 2013 because I had a lot of days- and weeks- where I felt like I was drifting, just simply existing.  At the end of the day I couldn't put my finger on where my hours had gone.  I know healing from my surgery seemed to compound it, because I had days where I did not do a single damn thing with my wrist in the cast.  Even now I have to be careful.  Last week I picked up a grocery sack and felt a sharp pop, and the surgery site swelled up and I was in miserable pain for several days.  I won't be completely, 100%, perfectly healed for a long time to come.  But I can still function.  And I've been trying my best to make the most out of my days.

I continue to get up with J every morning at 6am.  We go to bed about 10pm, sometimes a bit later.  I can't seem to convince anyone that I don't take naps, at all.  I think perhaps twice I've slept during the day, when I was sick.  That's it.  Only my mom believes me when I say I don't nap or sleep in.  I told her it's very important to me to not only stay on the same schedule as J, so I'll go to bed when he does.  But also to continue to stay on a normal schedule so that when/if I do go back to work, it won't be such a shock to my body.  Most days I don't leave the house, but now that I'm writing down the minutiae of my day, I can see that even as a homebody, I too have relevant tasks and projects and chores.  If I settled into my easy chair in the corner of our bedroom with a cat in my lap and read for 12 straight hours a day, no one is here to tell on me.  But that's not what I want out of life.

The appointment book has made me realize that I do have worth, that I do add value to this little family unit of ours, and that I'm not just wasting my time by staying at home.  I can make a to-do list every day and stick to it.  I can create goals and work on them.  I can make a difference.  I'm going to go as far as saying writing in the book has even boosted my self-esteem just a little bit.  It feels good every night to look at the page and see it's complete.  My day was complete. It gives me hope that maybe my life will be complete.  Thanks DayMinder 2014!

MISS GEE

Kicking Off A New Year

One promise I've made to myself, I won't spend two and three days composing giant convoluted posts anymore.  Even I get tired when I'm writing them, so no wonder no one is reading them.  I'd rather post more often, even if they are shorter missives.

Things started to look up for me after my last post.  My depression has lifted somewhat, though certainly not all the way.  But I feel more optimistic lately. Much more than I have in a long time.  It's amazing how just a few key moments in the span of just a few weeks, can change the path you've been headed down.  Maybe I've just had time lately to think on things.  Like the rest of the country I've been hibernating this week.  Yes, even in the Deep South we are not immune.  We hit single digit temperatures this week.  And my sales on Etsy for some reason just exploded, and it's given me a renewed sense of passion and dedication to my art and pottery.  People are discovering me and more than that, they like me!

In mid-December we visited our old town and old friends for a few days, and I realized that part of what's kept me down in the dumps here is an unfounded sense of nostalgia that things were better back there.  And although I miss seeing my best girlfriend on a daily basis, I came to the understanding that our old town is pretty much like our new town.  It doesn't offer anything that I can't get here, now.  True, I've held on to the memories of the days when J and I were dating, all the fun places we would go, our routines, our favorite restaurants (some of which we found were sadly now closed!).  But we have all that here, now.  J and I have been together for 10 years.  We've already spent 5 of those years here in our new town.  I came to the decision that whatever it was I've been longing for, in the past, is not worth it.  And I'm not sure it even exists anymore.  It's not worth making myself miserable over, anyhow.  It's not worth pining away for.  I have J here, now.  That's the most important part of all those memories and feelings.  I came back home feeling somewhat enlightened and told J, you know, after that visit I just don't "miss" our old life that much now.  I think that made him happy.

The holidays were all about family, and because I'm not currently working my parents were able to come and stay with us for an extended visit.  I shocked myself at how patient I was with my super-judgmental mother.  I shocked myself at how domestic I was, cooking all my husband's favorite dishes for my father. Normally when my parents come to visit, my mother takes over the house- and the cooking- and I just shut down.  This time I commanded control over my own kitchen, even on Christmas day.  My parents noticed, and it seemed as though they both had a new respect for me.  I'm 47.  I'm not sure why it took them this long to come to the conclusion that I'm competent and I'm a wife and I take care of my home and my husband.  It all came together and commingled into a pleasant visit.  Maybe it was partly my own change of attitude.  Instead of being miserable and wishing it was time for them to leave, I chose to enjoy the time we all spent with each other.  I stepped up, instead of just falling back.

J took me away for my birthday weekend after Christmas was over.  He does it every year, and each time he tries his best to surprise me but I always figure it out in advance.  I do my best to gush over the packet of tickets and hotel reservations and dining choices.  It's always the favorite weekend of the year for me, and it amazes me that my husband listens to me when I chatter away throughout the year, and it makes me appreciate him even more.  He keeps careful track of places I mention, events that are coming to town, and he always plans a magical weekend for me, for us.  It's the perfect way to close out the old year.  This year the rain dampened some of the plans but there were no regrets and no disappointments.  And again, I realized that whenever I'm with J, the details don't seem to matter as much.  We rang in the New Year with his family, and even though it was only just one day, I realized that being with them is about joy and warmth.  I didn't even think about anything else.  I felt as though I opened myself up to it more this visit than I have in the past.

Not everything that phased 2013 into 2014 was wonderful.  J's company was bought out by a competitor and we are unsure of what the near future holds for us and his job- we are just waiting and trying not to worry.  One dear friend back home is staring down a prison sentence, and I can only hope that her situation has a happy ending, and be supportive of her daily messages to me. Another friend here passed away just this week, from a very common illness but because she didn't take care of her every day health, she has died.  She was not much older than I am, and leaves behind a completely disabled, dependent husband.

Sometimes those sad moments make you look at yourself in the mirror and think, that could be me.  And it will be me unless I do something now to make certain I don't follow in those same footsteps.  Lately I've been reevaluating what truly makes me smile, and what makes me discontent.  And for each answer I have to ask, why?  I've been finding that when I choose to be happier and open and accepting, I have a lot more energy and a lot less of the aches and pains.  So I'm going to do my damnedest to embrace the positive, and to push back all the shadows.  I'm stepping into the light for 2014- and beyond!  I deserve it!

MISS GEE

Closing Out 2013

Probably my last post for 2013.  My year is ending on a downer, it is spiraling and I can't seem to slow the ride.  Not in a horrible way, just my depression eating away at me a little more than normal.  I feel better, but I don't feel "right".  Not as right as I want to feel.  It's just everything I suppose- the weather, the season, staying at home, family, friends, this town.  Everything.  I'm amazed at how easily I get overwhelmed, by nothing.

I came across an old journal the other day, one from about two years ago.  I found so many entries about hate and anger, even a few written on my worst days. There were entries detailing how I looked online about committing suicide with Tylenol PM.  There were entries about wanting to drive my car off a bridge the next time I went out.  Too many entries about how much I hated myself.

I haven't had days that bad lately, but I am feeling the walls of the pit caving in on me.  I haven't found the will or energy to climb up out of it these last few weeks.  The tears come for no reason, at the most unexpected moments of the day, and my heart hurts.  I'm looking forward to a few positive changes coming at me, to kick off 2014.  I have plans.  I will make them work out.  I will make my life work out.

2013 wasn't a bad year, things have improved.  Just not as fast or as much as I had hoped.  I am impatient.  J is my rock and my light, as always, but he can only do so much to fix me internally.

I'll be back soon.  Just no words for right now.  There's a happy ending out there for me somewhere.  I'm still searching.

Whichever holiday you celebrate, I hope you have a wonderful one.  I will do my best to do the same.

Love- MISS GEE