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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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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Priorities

Life is still getting ahead of me, and I’m dealing with that. At some point I’ll catch up. For now it’s staying focused on what counts. When I was raising our children, I never lost sight of the ball nor did he. No two children had more dedicated parents, perhaps as dedicated but not more dedicated.

A week ago today I moved home as quietly as I left. I’m still not unpacked. My office is a mess, but the laundry is done. smile One has to take the little victories as they come. I’m still scattered on so many levels, it’s hard to look beyond my prime focus. Our marriage and my new career. The house won’t miss me for a bit longer. The garden? Well, that’s a never-ending time suck. When it blooms I remember why I pour so much energy into it. It’s not blooming at the moment.

We have counseling tomorrow. Money is the topic. This should prove interesting. In the last year I was willing to and did walk away from all of it. None of it meant anything without my husband. He’s the focus or should I say ‘us’. Our children are raised, now it’s time to create the life we want for us and the means to properly fund it.  Us, what a wonderful concept; warm and fuzzy, as it should be.

What I want is for the sensitivity to dissipate. The world is still so threatening in my current state. New beginnings are  normally unsteady places. I’ve been through one or two of them. This will pass, I don’t have to like feeling emotionally naked in the meantime.  I’m exposing myself at home, in the firm hope our marriage is on a new, better path.

On the work front, I’m working in a completely new field at a new place with dynamics I haven’t riddled out just yet. People, in general, perplex me. I’m not going to spend a lot of energy beyond what I need to know to move through the space in an efficient  manner.

Things I’ve observed along the journey of work places. There is always a double agent. I’ve discovered her, and we’re as good as we’re going to get. Busy bees, there are many of these. You know the ones who are sure no one works as hard as they do. Therefore no one else is as competent making everyone subject to contempt as seen necessary. More importantly, I found the rock. Rally around the rock and your world is less likely to tip. I got a jolt this week and I have little doubt, the rock, is a big reason why there were no after shocks.

Wish I could find a rock in my personal life. It would seem my rocks have aged and now need support themselves. My only hope is to lean on my husband. This is a leap of faith so huge, words fail me completely. The risk I took walking out is nothing compared to learning to depend on him again, and that is what I’m doing. Slowly, cautiously, creeping forward, it looks good folks, real good. Better than I had any right to hope for, and that’s hell-a-scary. It still beats the pants off of hopeless, so I’ll take it.

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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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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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Do you really need to know?

People can be stupid. Really stupid. Blank stare.

If one reads the blog one already knows and need not ask. If one doesn’t? Too bad, too sad.

I don’t have to justify myself to everyone in my world bubble. Really, I don’t and hence forth will not do so.

Persons I’ve talked with over the course of the year are having brain farts. “What happened again?” “Exactly what was the problem?”

I don’t carry a concordance of my life in my hip pocket. Chances are good you were never told everything or very little, cuz frankly it’s not something I speak about with everyone.

This isn’t a make the husband a monster contest, where I come off as the damsel in distress. Shivers at the thought. Yes, I would (at times) like to be saved, but it’s an idol wish and nothing more.

Here’s the deal. I don’t carry my woes into my day’ scattered across a chain linked to my ankle for everyone to see. Have the past few months been extremely difficult? Yes. The difficulty level is lower and these things don’t occupy my every waking moment. Even when they did, I sure wasn’t going to spew my unhappiness on everyone in my path.

Most days are very pleasant. I laugh and smile because life is too short to feel sorry for myself, or to cultivate resentments which only serve to make me miserable.

Maybe this trait is how I get fingered for being stronger than I am. If it looks like a duck theory of thinking. She looks happy, therefore she must be happy[all the time]. Em, that would be a negative Ghost Rider.  I’m not the type of person who easily shows emotion on my sleeve.

I operate under the premise that very few people want to ‘really’ know how I am.  Not only do most of them not care (try answering lousy every once and a while or better). Are they horrible persons of little regard? Absolutely not. They are a loving child of God doing the level best they know how with what they have, just like the rest of us.  It’s not my place to make people uncomfortable with too much information, so I don’t.

When you are in the circle who is confided in, you are expected to keep up. Really. I don’t want to list my crappy events so that you will understand anything, only in context. This is one of the things my husband did that got on my last nerve. When I love someone, I remember things which are important to them. If you’ve had a rough time of it, allowances will be made.

From the gate this wasn’t about bashing my husband. I’ve been fairly faithful to this promise. One does have transgressions and moments of insanity during times of great stress.

I don’t want anyone to hate him, think badly of him or not be his friend. This is an ‘us’ thing. He and I aren’t functioning well as a couple. (Big news flash I know. grin)  So, if you’ve forgotten why I left, tough. It really isn’t any of your business anyway. When my friend is having marital problems I don’t want the down and dirty.. just to soothe the hurt feelings as best I know how. It is understood that I don’t have a chance of figuring out the ins and outs nor honestly do I want to get tangled up in it. My friend needs support; support is given. No stupid questions. Maybe a gentle reminder to be kind no matter how angry, because that creates stuff to clean up later.

I don’t suppose this will be my last rant about this. People are curious by nature. People need to be on the ‘correct’ side, whatever that is for them. Sorry folks, no recaps, no reasons, explanations or excuses. If you fell out of the loop, too bad. I’m done tilling up the past for you.

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Old Wounds

I didn’t end up in an apartment by myself on a wild hair. It wasn’t impulsive. I’m sorry it feels that way for him.

My husband came over this evening. He’s being clingy again. groan

Worse? He spent the better part of an hour trying to get me to ‘understand’ why he didn’t drop everything and come to me when my mother died, last May.  It’s as if he thinks if I could see things from his point of view it wouldn’t be so painful. Em, let me think; no.

I was with my mother when she died. I cannot express how grateful I am to have been able to be with her in those final days. What I couldn’t have predicted was my husband’s reaction when I called to tell him. He went on a tear about how work was crazy. He had the pager. It was a long drive and he didn’t know if he was coming. Excuse me? Are you kidding me?

His sister was called and she spoke with him. After speaking with his sister he decided he could make the trip to bring me home. Why thank you. How thoughtful. To say I was devastated would be an understatement. Our conversation this evening brought back the pain involved.

To recap; my mother dies, he doesn’t know if he can get away from work to bring me home or be with me. I’m supposed to understand how much stress he was under?

He has two brothers and a sister. When his mother died he didn’t have to worry about any of the details. They took care of it as a family. I have one brother, who cannot be depended upon. An 89 year old father to support while making all of the arrangements for not just my mother’s funeral, but my father’s as well. Why? Because dad asked me to. One does not say no to a devastated man who had just lost the love of his life. They were two days short of being married 68 years. They met when dad was 15 and mom was 12.

My cousin helped me, god bless her. Other than her, I had no support. None, nothing and my husband goes flaky on me. Really?  My brother’s daughters needed my support. Of course I was there for them. All I wanted was my husband, and I had to fight to get him to come. When he did get there he was emotionally distant and wrapped up in how it made him feel. Gee I can’t imagine why I was hurt beyond belief.

Now 10 months later he’s trying to get me to ‘understand’. Gawd this seems hopeless.

He reports in his present distress the house is a mess and I’m not to go, cuz he’s going to fix it. And I’m supposed to believe this?

A step forward and four back. I see a three month lease in my immediate future.

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