On the Other Side

The name of this blog didn’t seem to fit. My husband and I have made a new start. And that seems to be the point.

This is a different marriage.

I still can’t wear my first wedding ring. The thought rather makes me ill. That marriage fell apart in a slow drawn out process. I saw it and refused to believe. I found reasons to stay, until there weren’t any. The incoming tide washed our castle away. As it crumbled we raised our kids and pretended it wasn’t happening with every lap of the tide.

When I started this blog, I had no idea where we were going.  I did know I couldn’t do it anymore. See house with chain link fence (I hate painting fences) the dogs, cats, grandchildren running in the yard. It looked close to perfect I suppose. Curb appeal with no real structure to support it.

Last Valentine’s Day all I wanted was to be away from my husband. The poor sot was making an effort, in all the wrong directions. Me? I had no idea what to say to him anymore. We spoke different languages. Venus and Mars. I wasn’t even allowing him to touch me beyond a hug. How very smashed I was.

This year? We’ve started work on a new marriage. We both seem to understand how fragile, and precious a marriage is. Rather like a newborn infant. Marriage takes constant attention, nurturing and above all mutual respect. Perhaps this time we won’t get so wrapped up in life we forget to take care of us. Really, take care of us.

This morning, on my way home from work, I was hoping I didn’t miss him. That he hadn’t left for work before I got home. I just wanted to see and hold him. So, very, different from last year.

I’m not smashed, not totally inflated yet, but not smashed. And god it feels so much better here than it was there. Here there is hope. Something I thought had abandoned me.  I’m so glad I gathered the nerve to walk out into the unknown. I didn’t know this is where I would be. I just knew I couldn’t be there anymore.

It’s good to be on this side.

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We Made it through the Wedding

Most of the reason I’ve been conspicuously quiet the last few weeks is that our daughter got married mid-September. The weeks leading up to were wild, and the week or so after? I’ve been laying low recuperating and nursing a cold.

My daughter and husband very nearly drove me to drink. “Talk to your daughter.” “Talk to your dad.” were my stock responses. I swear the two of them couldn’t organize a sandwich without instruction. Me? I prolly could have pulled off the royal wedding given the proper time and resources. Back to point. This was my daughter’s wedding. Not mine. Not his. Hers.

He thought me silly for making her responsible for finding things out, oh like, the cost of this or that.

She thought I should play go between with the dad. Em, that would be a no go. Smile, they survived without me.

The only crisis of the day was not being able to find the ring bearer’s pants. We found the pants, but not his socks. A minor casualty in the grand scheme of things. He didn’t care about socks anyway.

Husband freaked a tiny bit when his boss called for the second time. Blank stare. Really? I told him to turn the phone off and let the man hang. It was our daughter’s wedding. Stupid manager guy knew that. No work crisis on wedding day. Husband didn’t argue. Huh?

He turned off the phone, put it in his pocket and we enjoyed the evening in peace. People you have no idea how monumental this is. He put work on hold. HUGE!  This is the same man who almost made me come home on a train, by myself, after my mother died, because he was stressing about what his boss would say, do..ack.   It is so remarkably wonderful, I can not begin to express.

It looks as if we’re getting closer to where we need to be. I gave him more closet space today.  Don’t look at me like that.

We’ve had separate rooms because of his snoring for years. He had his own closet, and I had my two. They weren’t both filled with my clothes. There are extras for the grandkids, and my work uniforms. I moved the uniforms to my office closet and moved the rest of my stuff over so we aren’t so squished. I don’t share personal space happily. grin

He gave me a hug for my efforts and remarked that he knew how difficult it was. Change, the good sort, is afoot.

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More Myself

The last week or so, I’ve been feeling more myself again. I’m not as raw, or as uncertain about myself as I was earlier this year.

As a general rule, I don’t care what other people think of me. The fact that most people ‘never’ think of me once out of their face is rather comforting and true. My confidence got a good thrashing when the marriage fell to pieces. Starting a whole new career? Insecure, who me? Em, yeah. I don’t seem to know how to do one change at a time.

At work, while I’m by no means as experienced as most of the women there, I’m good at what we do. Competent even, so if they want to make a fuss over things I do or don’t do, that’s on them. I’m done trying to make them happy. It isn’t an achievable goal. It’s better to enjoy myself while I’m there and pass it off to the next crew. I do what I’m supposed to, so they can bite me, or feel superior which they seem to do very well. Le sigh, no more dayshift stress. Done, over, not happening anymore.

I went to see a friend tonight. I had a gut feeling, which are never good, so I paid her a visit. When I got home my husband asked how she was and the only answer I could give him was, ‘the same.’  She didn’t agree with the separation. She’s not over it and I’m over her martyr nonsense. If she’s looking for an apology it isn’t happening. I don’t know what the hell she wants. Again, I’m done. There is only so much one person can do.

When I mentioned how defeated, deflated I’d been she gave me an incredulous look.

Really? Oh that’s right, you have all the problems. Alrighty then, you keep doing what you’re doing and I’m moving on. Sorry to see you fall behind. Shrug, there is no hope for it. She’s where she is, which isn’t even in the same universe with me. It happens, and I’m moving on.

I’m slowly reclaiming my house after leaving it to the men for three months. Note to self, don’t leave the men alone. They won’t vacuum and the carpet will be a nightmare. Oh yeah. It’s as clean as I’m going to get it. Shake my head. The kitchen cabinets are scary too. One is never sure what will fall from where, or when. Yep, men and cabinets don’t mix so much. Mine don’t get the ‘nesting’ concept of putting things away. I tried to teach it and failed miserably.

Tomorrow I have some clutter to file, toss or put away. If I feel brave enough, I’ll tackle the plastic container cabinet, maybe. smile

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Lingering Doubt

There are little things my husband does which drive me to distraction. Getting too uppity about events (mania anyone?) or when he allows himself a temper tantrum over anything. He’s listening to me when I put the brakes on what I will and won’t listen to. I mean honestly, how many times do I have to be apprised of the blister on your hand from the rake. Really?  It’s a friction burn. I’m fairly confident that, given where we live and the sanity conditions, he isn’t at risk for an infection of any note.

Red flags go up. He’s at it again. Maybe I made a mistake thinking this could work.  The moment passes and he’s holding me, keeping the world at bay and my heart sings. Stupid heart. grin

Disconnect notices? OMG! The man has only been paying the bills four months, and we’re creating financial drama. This is in line with his nature. Our daughter’s wedding is mere weeks away. Something this big couldn’t go down without a hitch. Where would be the story of martyrdom and how he swooped in at the last minute to save the day? Off course there will be months of recovery, but we’ll soldier on.

Blank Stare. Em, no. We are not doing this, now or ever again. If you missed the memo, I’m giving you notice right now. Knock it off, buddy.

Oh and let’s add the added element of the unknown. Will she leave? This is so old and raggedy. Want an adrenaline rush? Go ride roller coasters. I’m serious.

It’s bad enough that the person who claims to be my best friend has gone completely off the deep end, now you want to follow? God save me from this unnecessary, destructive, hurtful behavior.  Oh, but it gets better. Should I do what they think I will then it’s all about their pain.

Shake my head.  Chaos, Confusion, Disarray? Em, yeah, No.

At this stage of the game, it will be my way or the highway on these things. The bills will get paid and, gasp, on time. I will not listen to rants about what could happen or might happen. We will continue to work the solution versus the problem.  I have absolutely no interest in worrying about things for which I have no control. I’m not going to join you in looking for or creating worry so that I can feel out of control. Nope. There I go being unreasonable again.

Am I perfect? Screws mouth to the side, okay so I’ve been spending money I shouldn’t. Steps have been taken to remedy the situation. First, I don’t need to make sure I have everything I might possibly need for the next two years. He isn’t going to get upset at me, so it’s time to stop before it gets WAY out of hand and I’m the one crying for being a putz.

I had worked myself into a state of crisis which isn’t anymore. Nice deep breaths. In two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. It will be okay, no matter what. Find balance.

Do I still want to go shopping? Of course I do. I love shopping, the thing is, I don’t have to buy. Time to pull out the time-honored occupation of Window Shopping.  I might slip here and there, I’m human after all.

So we need to have a discussion about the bills, budget and the like before I’m throwing things in my car again. I don’t ever want to feel what I felt that day in March ever again. Happily Ever After takes work. Crap, smile.

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The Physics of the Journey

There is a line in the movie, “Eat, Pray, Love”, about the physics of the journey.  The gist of it is that every part of a journey of faith is important. Every hurt, truth, ache and revelation is there for a purpose, and if one pays attention to them no journey is wasted. You may find the message a little different, that’s because we’re all different.

About two years ago, I threw my life to God. (It’s always been there, I just forgot I wasn’t in charge.) My only prayer; The knowledge of your will and the power to carry it out.  It’s not all that profound, but simple always is remembered when I’m in crisis. I say it when I’m panicked, scared, unsure, late, broken-hearted. Why is a stupid question in the middle of the storm. There is no solution in why something is happening. In that moment why doesn’t matter how is. How do I fix this? How do I get out of this? How will I heal? And ,what’s the next step?

My journey officially started when I found a job so that I could move away from my husband. There is an empowerment to having an income, even a spartan one, so long as I could make it month to month I was fine.

Next? I decided that the house and all of the stuff didn’t mean anything to me. This stuff had no way of taking care of me, and it all had memories I’d rather have forgotten at the time. When I left I was prepared to ask for  nothing in a divorce, except my personal items.  It’s where I was. I’m still there in respect to the stuff. It’s nice to have the stuff, but without the marriage it is of no use to me. My income only affords for a little bitty place. Safe and little bitty rocks!

My eating changed when I started to work, and through no effort on my part I started to lose weight. Cool!  Getting too small for my clothes was a novel experience. So was learning to nurture myself.  The mom takes care of everyone else, right? Well without a healthy mom everyone suffers. I’ve always had pampering rituals, long bubble baths, I learned to do acrylic nails (frugal is a good description for me.)

This last year I added pedicures and I didn’t just give them to myself, gasp, I let someone help.  Pedi/manicures are expensive so they are a treat, all the same it’s part of taking care of me. While I was on my own they were part of my calming ritual. Money was set aside for that particular use, for me.  Every two weeks I had my nails done and once a month my feet. As nurturing goes I found the practice very healing.

Now my hands and feet looked good and my clothes were falling off. Literally. I had no idea if I was going to lose more or not. Off to second-hand stores I went. There are very nice things to be found in those stores. Okay, so there’s lots of crap too. I’m willing to sort through the garbage to come out with a gem or two for .10 cents on the dollar  if I were to buy them new.  There’s no excuse for not feeling good in your clothes. None. I don’t care what size you are or your budget, a little effort goes a long way to feeling better about you. And this most certainly was about me.

It all became about me, it had to. I was too broken for anything else. One friend said I was too skinny. My husband didn’t notice. My daughter was proud of me. My son? Indifferent, as well he should be. smile

For years I’d drive by this building on my way to the Interstate with a sign, CNA classes starting (fill in the blank). It was curious to me that I kept noticing it even after driving by a thousand and one times.  I needed a job I could take care of myself with. Guess what? Certified Nursing Assistants make pretty good wages, not stellar. Good enough for just me.

Some research discovered a way to get the training for no cost. State registration, license, and testing fees were up to me to pay. Classes were no charge. I could afford that!

I got through classes, got hired by the facility which trained me and before I knew it I was working nights and on my own. Earlier posts will verify how terrified I was. Guess what? I can take of myself. I don’t have to worry about every little thing.  My journey brought my husband back into my life. Suddenly faced with the possibility of losing me brought him around in short order.

Grateful, doesn’t begin to explain how I feel about this on going process of reclaiming the marriage and me at the same time.

Major lessons?

I’m the only one who can properly care for me. And it’s nice when someone else helps.

Working has greater rewards than a living. I’ve discovered what I love, what a gift.

Do what I love, just for the love of it.  I’ve the energy for my passions again. Squishing my toes in the mud as I garden brings me joy.  Walking the dog brings me peace. Work gives me a sense of accomplishment. Bargain shopping feeds my ego and brings an impish grin to my face.

With or without him, I’m whole and worthy of a good life.

Find your happiness where and when you can.

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There I am!

Sounds silly, but it’s the truth. I see me, and yet I’m not there yet.  Given my nocturnal work hours, I decided I’d have to do my gardening on my schedule. The neighbors think I’m loopy for sure. My husband has a flood light to work on cars. Take one very long extension cord add light and garden at night. The weeds are still winning the war. I’ve taken some decisive battles though, so I feel good about that.

Being interested in the yard at all is nice. The roses are blooming. They always remind me why I do what I do. Is huffing roses against the law? Grin

My basic, boiled down to the point of brass tacks problem? Lack of trust. Time takes time, as does new history on which new trust is built. It’s hard to invest without blindly trusting. The trust of our marriage was destroyed. Not torn, injured, dented, or scuffed; destroyed. If that weren’t enough the best friend I had here (we’ve lived all over hell’s half-acre) dropped me on my ass when I moved out. Double whammy. Clutching chest, grasping imagined jewel encrusted dagger where it’s lodged in my heart.

My prose was a bit purple that last bit? Okay, we’ll forego any further embellished drama, even though it is ever so much fun to write. Me in a mood? What?

Today I took our daughter to be fitted for her wedding dress. The wedding dress for the occasion I dreaded dealing with if her dad and I were still separated. I really didn’t want this to interfere with her magical day. One source of stress off of my plate.  How did the dress fit? Em, well, ah, it, she’s lost 20 lbs. We were able to trade the one we ordered for one in the store. Fist pump, YES! The fitting went well.   My baby!  She only belongs to him when I’m mad at her. smile

The road to recovery is a long one. Shorter than if we’d divorced, but still a grind. Things were so much simpler when we were young. The sting of love was shorter lived, no less painful, just shorter.

So, I’m glad to be home. Happy to give the neighbors something to talk about. Okay, thrilled with that one. My husband and I continue to work well together. Yip!

On the flip side I’ve got to speak with this friend. I’d rather ignore the entire situation. I really would. The panic in my chest says that’s not going to cut it, so I’ll find a way to suck it up and talk to her. Chances are good nothing will be resolved for us. For me? Once I tell her how I feel I can put it to bed. And this really, really needs to be put away.

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I’m Starting to Feel Settled

In fits and starts I’m starting to feel settled again. It’s not constant, still I’d forgotten how nice it is. Contentment is vastly underrated in a society driven by the pursuit of happiness. I wonder if Thomas Jefferson meant the phrase as we interpret it in the twenty-first century.  It seems silly, sitting where I’m sitting, to chase a feeling of fulfillment. When in the completion of our everyday tasks dreams are realized and happiness is the result. Happiness is normally felt when I’m quiet, not manic. How many of us miss happiness chasing a feeling so desperately that they miss it altogether?  Many, I’m sure.

I’m very content with my current work position. I have no aspirations to move into higher education for advancement. Yet, I’m often asked when I’m going to go to school. My take on it is, I’ve got the best of the job with none of the headaches. The pay isn’t worth the frantic pace moving up would cause.  This seems to be contrary to what many believe to be accomplishment and happiness.  All the same, I’m content and if that changes, then I’ll change my plans.

What I’m struggling with is reengaging at home. I’m here, but not really. It’s weird. The weeds are taking over in my normally pretty well tended flower gardens. There are things around the house which need attention and I’m just not there. Maybe it’s a realignment of priorities I’m adjusting to. All I know is it feels so different. And don’t get me wrong, different isn’t always a bad thing.

Depending on ones vantage point, leaving might seem the easy out of a relationship. When if fact it is devastating to contemplate, let alone carry out. What if it doesn’t work? What if I’m alone for the rest of my life? What if……ad nauseam. Staying is safe, difficult in it’s own right, still safe. How many of us trod on in silent, or not so silent pain because the fear of the unknown is so great?

I shot the moon and survived it.  I just wish pain and distrust dissipated as quickly as they appeared. Leaving certainly didn’t make everything better. It did allow for healing to begin. It appears as if this is a trauma only time will heal. I hate that, but what are you to do?  Time takes time. Blech!

Pain and all, I’m glad I made the decisions I made. It’s how my husband and I got to where we are today and there is great contentment in that thought.

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I’m not the Same.

I suppose that should go without much thought, or saying. Who is the same over the passage of time? This last year has made me a more private person. The blog doesn’t count as it’s anonymous and most of you have no idea who I am, or were and likely never will. If one of you plucked even a tiny tidbit from my rambling which helped make your life easier, then it was worth the effort of keeping this up.

The marriage is healing as are we. All of my pain wasn’t caused by him, so I’ve a ways to go. Saturday will be the one year anniversary of my mother’s passing. Losing her has got to be the single most painful event of my life. Maybe that’s what made it possible for me to make the life changes I made. It couldn’t get worse, now could it?  Having nothing to lose is an odd place to live. Or should I say survive?

There hasn’t been much living this year and a whole lot of surviving. On our anniversary, the 28th, my husband presented me with an anniversary ring and asked me to marry him again. He was blushing. I’m sure he gets it now. I said yes. Plans for the renewal are in the works, at least that’s what he says. I’m not concerned with his plan making, he’ll let me in on it when he’s ready, and I can wait.

Me leaving him with plans is a huge change. I sort of like it. smile

When we spoke about the painting project it turns out he had two projects lumped into one. Remove popcorn ceiling stuff and then paint. Em, dude, no way. The current color scheme is bugging the crap out of me. We paint and then worry about the blinkin’ ceiling. TYVM. Instead of arguing with me, he and I discuss how I saw the project. As in much smaller than he had anticipated. No fight? Way cool. Being heard? Priceless.

I’m going to go home the way I left. Quietly without much fuss. I don’t want a fuss. In the mean time I’m working through my current isolationist attitude. I’ve never minded being alone, I rather enjoy being alone truth be told. Don’t get me wrong, I like to interact with people too.  It has come to my notice that some persons in my circle like to whine and pole vault mouse turds. Blank stare

My emotional state is still on the thin side. I tire easily in the company of loud persons. My patience are not rebounding to their former glory, that’s probably a good thing for me. I find I don’t have the interest or the energy to involve myself with persons complaining about situations which were either created by the whiner, or are completely beyond their self-righteous indignation.

Life is short. Happiness is fleeting. Settling is no longer on the table for me. My husband and I were either going to get through this or we weren’t. So unhappy were we both I was willing to take the chance, and it paid out big.

Don’t settle. Dare to live the best life of your willingness. Failure isn’t optional, it’s certain… get on with the mistakes for the rewards they supply.

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Eight Weeks Out

In some ways this has been a very long two months, and in others not so much.

I’ve discovered that I create too much trash for one person. Steps are being taken to reduce that. Yes, I actually think of these things. smile  At this point I’m shamelessly spoiled by only having to pick up after myself. Being by oneself has some nice benefits. Okay so my space needs attention at the moment, but it’s all my mess. Somehow that makes it okay.

Today my husband and I are taking a step toward the hard stuff. We’re going to pick out paint for the living room, foyer and halls. This might not seem like a big deal. In my world it’s huge. I’ve being doing all of the home improvement, work, repair for six years. He wants to do this. Suggested it. I see glimpses of the man I married. This is a good trend. I might even cave on a color. Might. I’m a brat remember?

Rent is paid for another month. Hopefully I’m be closer to moving home at the end of the month. The longer this goes on the more I see how, as difficult as the decision was, leaving was the best thing for the marriage I could’ve done. Had I stayed I seriously doubt we’d have made this much, if any progress.

So I left with my husband and he says, ‘We’re only looking at colors today right?”

Wing brow. This isn’t what I understood, but I roll with it. It ended up being the same trip we’ve had eleventy billon times. WTF.  I’m done with this browsing stuff, and yes I will explain that to him when I’m in better head space.

Tonight really threw me. Our grown daughter is hitting some life bumps. He’s upset, more so than I am. I suspect his reversion has something to do with that. I know he’d like to collapse into me and have me make it better for him. Em, yeah, no. He really has to get over this needy crap. It does neither of us any good. Hello! I don’t want to spend the rest of my life making him feel better. GAH!

Our kids will take their life licks the same as everyone else. Do I like it? No, absolutely not. I also understand our time to rescue either of them is long passed. If they are ever to figure this stuff out, better now than later.  Honestly, I worked hard to make sure they had the tools necessary to make it on their own. If they misplace or forget them, this is not on us.

Someone (a man) please explain this to my husband. I’m so tired of telling him it’s none of our business I could hurl. Like you wanted your dad all up in our business at this age? That would be a solid, no.

Every time he pulls this clingy, needy, but honey the kids, bull-shit, hope for reconciliation dims ever so slightly. It makes me crazy. He misses me. I GET that. In the same stroke I didn’t bounce out the front door of that house because I thought a change of scenery would be nice and refreshing.  I was suffocating from fear, anxiety and his ridiculous insecurities.

There is nothing I can do about his self esteem or lack there of. Were I so powerful, this would have been rectified ages ago. I really don’t know what it is he wants from me. So far a life partner doesn’t seem to be in his definition, and that concerns me.

We have counseling tomorrow. FUN!

Sarcastic? Me? Really?

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I’m Feeling Like a Brat.

Our counselor suggested that I spend more time at the house, oh say like three days. I spent one night and now I’m at the apartment. It’s too painful to go back and forth. Sorry, I can’t do half measures.  If I’m here, I’m here. If I’m there, I’m there.

Problem, I’m not sure it’s time to be there. I was feeling good about going home around the first of May. After the sleep over? I’m not sure, and here is where the brat part enters in.

All I saw when I walked into the house was work. The cabinet fronts need attention, the kitchen is tidy, but not clean with coffee on the cabinet doors. He doesn’t see this stuff, and I don’t think he gets how important it is to me. The house hasn’t been vacuumed since I left [six weeks]. I had to clean up my bathroom and bedroom. Really? We need to come to an understanding about the house. He works, I work and there has to be an agreement on the house and yard work. HAS–TO–BE – I’m a shameless brat. I don’t want to walk into 40 hours of house and garden work. If I do, what was the point of leaving to begin with. That’s how I feel.

Then he made a small comment about a payment going out on a day he didn’t expect and how that caused problems. Blank stare. If you know you have a payment of X dollars, it shouldn’t matter when it comes out. You take it off the balance and go on with your life. Right? I mean what does it matter unless it comes out before the pay period you indicated, which in this case you should wait, how could this cause problems?  This financial thing is huge for me.

I simply can’t think about going on the way we’ve been. His views on this subject really need to mature. We’ve always butted heads on money. Was I naive to think he would grow up at some point? Apparently so. My heart dropped with his seemingly innocent comment.  All the hopes I had of going home the first, dashed.

I’m feeling selfish to expect so much of him. I’m feeling self-indulgent about continue paying the rent on the apartment.

Bottom line?  If I go back without working these things out, we’re doomed to fail. All of the heartache for not. Damn, this is hard.

Tomorrow I’m going to the house and he and I are going to have to talk about the hard stuff. Us getting along was easy, these sticking points may prove more difficult. Reminding myself that this isn’t about settling is unnerving. The compromiser in me cries out to take what I can get and reality draws me up short.

Brat, yep, that’s me.

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