Thirty-Seven

Thank you MsP for your kind words, and I agree with everything you say. I have actually been feeling better, which is one reason I haven't been on here lately. Does that make sense? I have three blogs, and this is my blog where I like to pour out all the bad crap, complain, whine, have a pity party, get angry. I haven't felt those things lately, so I've not wanted to get on here and blog. My life has taken a drastic turn- for the better. How often do you hear people say that? Right now my head is spinning, and I've had problems absorbing it all and wrapping my brain around everything and putting my thoughts into words, but I will write about the events soon. But then I realized that, even though I seem to be feeling better on the outside and smiling more, is that really how I am feeling on the inside? I don't know yet, but very soon- days in fact- it will be put to the test in a way it hasn't been for years now. There are major adjustments coming in the near future for everyone in the house- me, A, the cats even. No, I'm not pregnant, I'm in my mid-40's for cryin' out loud. I am tired of being a big faker, a phony, smiling at everyone in public but having secret dark thoughts about life behind my hazel eyes. I want the two personalities to blend into one, into ME, a new and improved me I guess. I will soon have an opportunity to redeem myself and try to become that better person, that new person. I have never been suicidal, but certainly depressed and tired of my life and my sad moods and blue periods. I am tired of my mood being dependent on the weather, or A, or my hormones, or my weight, or whatever. I am ready to take charge of my moods and feelings, instead of them controlling me. I have been their plaything for far too long now, they've mistreated me terribly, and I am ready to cut my losses and move on to bigger and better things. I have been doing everything lately that I can think of, to try and improve my feelings of sadness and loneliness. I've been taking St. John's Wort (does it really work?), I've been taking something at night to ensure that I get plenty of uninterrupted sleep, I've been exercising more, reading more, getting outside to get more fresh air and sunshine. Perhaps these things have helped, perhaps I am just feeling better and attribute it to these actions. Does it matter? I read Winter Fawn, and I can't say that she reads me, but my heart breaks for her every time I read about her unhappiness- she seems so sweet and beautiful but she also seems so so sad. I realize there are many many many other people out there who feel life more deeply than I do, who feel more troubled, who feel less hopeful. Part of me knows that my feeling better is the result of my physical therapy, because less physical pain equals less mental and emotional anguish. I still go twice a month, and it gets better with every visit. I still have the bad days, where I hurt so much that I can't (don't want to) function much, but those seem to be very rare indeed, instead of ALL the time like before. It's a shame that conventional doctors only wanted to give me more and more and more medication and keep stabbing me with needles, only to have the pain grow over the years, no relief. As soon as I got away from traditional medicine, I found my answer, and of course my health insurance won't cover it because "therapeutic massage" is off the grid as far as they're concerned, even though it's the only thing that has worked. Whatever- what I'm saving now by getting off the SEVEN prescription medications I was taking for the pain- trust me the PT is a lot cheaper even when it's paid for fully out of pocket. I don't discount that my therapist is a big reason about why I'm in better spirits, because who wants to sit around in the comfort of your own home and still feel miserable? I still feel lost and alone on some days, but that will change very soon, and I'm going to try and write about that soon. I am happy that the humid, bright, hot summer is gone in our part of the world now. The cool breezes blow away my anger at humanity, it lightens the heaviness in my heart.

Thirty-Six

I am slowly coming to terms with my life as I know it now. I realize that I can't change anything around me, I can only change my reactions to it. I can't force someone to hire me, I can't force A to work less hours, I can't force a stranger to become friends with me. I am still trying my damnedest to focus on the positive, and ignore the negative. I am trying to stop complaining about what I don't have, and enjoy and embrace what I do have. So I spend up to 14 hours home alone every day- why do I treat that as such a huge burden, such a torture? Why can't I learn to love the peace and quiet, why can't I learn to fill the hours with the hobbies I used to once love but never had time for? In the basement I have stacks of paperback books I've not yet read, I have several boxes of sewing supplies for the quilts I used to make. Upstairs in the studio A made for me, I have all my art supplies- paints, pencils, beads, colored paper, clay, a closet filled with empty canvases. In a spare bedroom I have my treadmill set up, along with a TV and a pile of exercise DVD's. All the things I always wanted more time to spend on and enjoy when I was working full time. Now I have that time, and I rarely do any of it. The hours pass by every day, and I have no idea where they go or what I did. Am I truly that depressed? I have plants sitting on the front porch that need to be potted. I have Halloween decorations half taken out of storage that I need to put around the house. I have a stack of new recipes copied from cookbooks that are simply gathering dust on the kitchen counter. Why can't I do anything? What is stopping me? There is no one else here but me. No one to control my time, no one to tell me what to do or not to do, no one to criticize me, no one to make me feel stupid. Just plain me, an overweight unemployed childless depressed 40-something housewife. Me, and a clock that ticks away my existence, by the minutes, the hours, the days, the weeks. Why am I wasting that time? Why don't I see it as a gift that has been given to me? I have a husband who makes enough money that I can afford to stay home and do whatever it is I want to do. I don't have ANY commitments- no children, no family around. In the months I've been staying at home, I could have created a painting a day, I could have written an entire novel, I could have put away all the old photos into albums, I could have baked every pie known to mankind, I could have spent my time working with a local charity and made a new friend. But I haven't done anything, at all. And I don't know why. I don't know what paralyzes me every day when I breeze through the empty house like a ghost. This house is three stories, yet I rarely leave the main floor. I hover around the living room all day long, ignoring everything else. The cats get around the house more than I do. Some days I don't even turn on the TV, I just sit and stare. Or worse, I sleep the hours away. Most of all, what I feel is shame. Shame because I am wasting this time, shame because I can barely function and I don't know why, or how to change it. Shame because I have to lie to A at night, when he asks me how my day was and I say oh, just fine honey, I had a great day. I think he knows it's bullshit, but he pretends to believe me because he doesn't know what else to say, what else to do. There are a lot of women on my block who stay home all day, I see their cars at home, see them in their yards sometimes, but they all have children. I wonder what they do all day long, alone in their own homes. Are they as bored as I am? Are they watching the clock tick, counting the minutes until someone else will be there with them? Are they just sitting in front of the TV watching Bravo all day long? Most of the houses on my street have a stay-at-home mom. I can't even apply that label to myself. What am I? I hate saying I'm unemployed, because I voluntarily gave up my career to support A with his. In the beginning I used to say I was at home full time working on my art, but that is a crock of shit, as I've only completed two paintings in all this time. So who am I? What am I? What am I going to do with myself as time goes on? I keep applying for jobs, but me and another 100 people apply for each one. What will I do with myself if I continue to be a "stay-at-home" person? I am lost, but I am trying to find my way. I am trying to focus on something, anything, other than being alone. I am alone, but I am surrounded by wonderful opportunities that others would love to have. I just can't seem to get my head around it. Why is it so hard to be alone? Am I making it harder than it has to be? Am I just ungrateful, and whiny? A tells me all the time that I'm spoiled, a princess, but he says it with love because he is the one who spoils me and he does so happily. If I am unhappy, it's my fault, it's in my head, and it's something that only I can fix. But how? Where do I begin? It's been nine months now, of staying home alone, in a new city, a new state. This is my life now. I have to deal with it. Soon. It seems like such a simple thing. I'm not setting out to find the cure for cancer, no one is putting pressure on me. I'm only trying to rouse myself out of this black hole, and paint a landscape of a beach, or read a good novel, or bake a pumpkin pie. How hard is that? And why can't I do it?

Thirty-Five

Yesterday I was home alone while A spent the whole day in the city with his best friend, who came to stay with us for the weekend. I found a marathon of episodes on a show about people who won lotteries, and how it had changed their lives, and I watched all afternoon. This wasn't one of those lurid tales about how fortunes had ruined lives. It was just an interesting look at how the winners were spending their millions. One of the couples on an episode actually live IN this tiny-ass country town I live in now, where they won $2.5 million on a scratch-off ticket. The episodes were current, filmed in 2009, about people who had been recent winners and therefore hadn't had time yet to squander their fortunes and spiral into debt and misery again. I've only lived in three states over my lifetime, and all three states have had the lottery. One state had their own lottery, started when I was in my 20's. The next state was part of the Powerball system. The state we moved to this year does the Mega Millions- we had a recent winner two weeks ago from this shithole town, I think he won $12 million. I don't play the lottery. I don't ever carry cash, I rarely go to convenience stores, and I just don't feel lucky. A plays every once in awhile, he wins a few dollars here and there, but nothing to break into a sweat about. On one of the episodes yesterday, a guy had written down a list "if I ever win the lottery" for how he wanted to spend his money. Sure enough, he did win. I kept watching the shows, seeing how different people chose to spend the money. Most of the people on the show spent it on the obvious- cars and homes. It made me think about how I would spend such a large sum of money. Yes, A and I have had "that" conversation before, just for fun and just out of curiosity to see what the other one was thinking about. A first and foremost said all of our immediate family members would get a gift of cash from us. Parents, siblings, nieces and nephews. Or, pay off their mortgages and cars, set our six nieces and nephews up with money for college. It doesn't surprise me that A would think this way, he is deeply devoted to family and his heritage and roots. I would love to give money away to all the family as well, but then where do you draw the line? Aunts and uncles, cousins, in-laws' family members. And what about friends- best friend, college buddy, co-worker, acquaintances. You can't give it away to everyone and everybody, there would be nothing left for you. I know, how much money does one person really need? Could I ever really spend tens of millions of dollars? I have never desired the rock star lifestyle, or the royal treatment. I don't covet my neighbors' BMW or Mercedes, I have never wished to join the country club right up the road, I'm too fat to fit chic designer clothes. So, after showering the family with generosity, then what? We do have several charities that we currently support, all of them are either for abused animals or sick children. We give what we can, which isn't nearly enough. I would love to be able to help out the local animal shelters even more- I could see myself easily spending way too much money to help out animals in need, a situation my heart truly bleeds for. After that, I'm not sure. I would certainly pay off all our debt- the house, our few bills, prepay all the utilities for about a year. Next would be travel- I've always had a dream of buying a big tricked out RV and traveling across the country for months at a time, no plans, going wherever we felt like driving for the day. I've seen RV's that are little mini houses on wheels- they have laundry rooms, flat screen TV's with satellite, full-size kitchens. That would be the way to go. All our pets could go with us- travel by any other means would require leaving the animals at home, and neither of us would want to be away from them for that long. A has always said if he was independently wealthy, he would play poker for a living in Vegas, he feels that is his true calling. I've been to Vegas several times, and it's okay to visit, but I'm not sure I would want to live there forever. Maybe out in the suburbs, but that is A's dream, not mine. After all the travel across the country, it would be time to come home and decide where we want to live. I don't see us wanting to stay in this current area, we are only here because A's job brought us here, and we're just waiting out his next promotion so we can move again in another few years. So, if we had millions and didn't have to work? Where to "retire" to? A grew up on a working farm in the Smoky Mountains. I grew up on the Gulf Coast, a beach baby. Each of us escaped our lives as soon as possible. And although neither of us wants to return to where we came from, we each want to end up where the other one started. My dream is to have a cozy cabin in the mountains, enjoy the change of seasons from my front porch, have a yard filled with flowers and animals. A's dream is to live in paradise, where he can play golf every day and never fight the cold weather, walk on the beach in the mornings, and dine on fresh seafood and tropical fruits every night. We've always joked that we will have to retire in two places- a mountain cabin during the summer, and a beach condo in the winter, but of course we can't afford that. After that, I don't really know what I would spend money on. With me, probably just what I spend it on now- stuff to read, art supplies to play with, music to listen to. I don't want a private jet or yacht, or a butler, or a penthouse in the city, or a big mansion I could get lost in. A comes from a very humble background and I don't think he would be interested in any of that, either. I see that sort of thing on TV, and it doesn't appeal to me at all, I am not envious of Paris Hilton or Donald Trump in any way whatsoever. I mean, how much stuff can one person really want or need or use? Everyone wants a comfortable home, but do I need 16 bedrooms and 20 bathrooms in one house?? Do I need gold fixtures for the bathtub? Do I need a separate closet just for all my shoes? You can only wear one pair at a time after all. You can only drive one car at a time. If I had a bottomless pit of money, I think for me it would be more about what I could "do" with it, instead of what I could "own" with it. It would be about freeing A up from his 60 hour a week job, so we could spend time together, before all our time on this earth is gone. Where could we go, what could we see, how could we come together and enjoy life with each other? I'm sure every person who hits the big jackpot on the lottery doesn't think they will ever be the winner, and yet they continue to play. Me, I don't play, so I don't ever have to worry about winning or not. But maybe I should buy a ticket now and then?? My dream, every day and every night, is more time to spend with A, but as long as he has his job that is never going to happen. Winning the lottery may not buy me happiness, but it could buy me more free time to be with the man I love. And THAT would make me happy.

Thirty-Four

In an earlier post, I wrote about having an affair when I was married to X, an affair with a department manager at work who also happened to be a handsome younger man, one who was very attracted to me and I to him. The affair was the catalyst that I needed to finally give me the strength to leave X, to demand a divorce that was long overdue. Mentally and emotionally, I was no longer "married" to X, we had no type of relationship together, I hated even the thought of him. But physically we were still in the same house, though in separate beds. And legally we were still husband and wife. The affair that started at my office opened up my eyes, and made me realize that I was still a young, attractive woman and I had a future, a chance at a new life of my own making. I had been with X for so long, that I couldn't see beyond a miserable existence with him. I didn't yet realize that I could stand on my own two feet, live alone, support myself, and be happy once again. The first time I "cheated" on X, the first time I went to this other man's bed, I did not feel guilty. I felt elated. Not because of the sex itself, but because I felt free and uplifted and relieved. It was an act to break the bonds between X and I. I couldn't take it back, and I didn't want to. And I really did love this other man, even though he made no promises or commitments to me, because I was still married. And even after I told X I wanted a divorce, X continued to take it lightly, and refused to move out, thinking I was just being a silly cow and mad at him about something and blowing off steam, that it would pass. He didn't leave for four months, until I retained a lawyer, and then he knew finally that I was serious. During that time, I continued to see the other man, on weekends during the days because I would have to come home at night since X was still living there in the beginning. I could never let on to X about it, because we had to wait out a tremendously long year of separation before we could actually file for divorce. I wanted things to go as smoothly as possible. I could have easily brought X up on drug charges, to expedite the process and get a divorce immediately. But I was now living alone, my family 700 miles away, and X was just across town, bitter, in a small apartment, and angry at me. I wanted to keep the peace, I was living alone now for the very first time in my life. I was learning to enjoy it. I loved my job, I got a new pet, my parents had recently bought me a more reliable car, our bankruptcy was finally paid off, and I finally finally felt like a real adult, an independent woman for the first time ever. I learned quickly that I didn't need X- I could mow the lawn myself, could pay my bills, could take my car in and get the oil changed- and more than that, I liked living on my own, coming home to "my" house, with peace and quiet and no drama or fighting. My new man and I continued to date, keeping it hush hush at work. He lived 45 miles away, in another state, and commuted to work. Once X was out of my house, I would drive to my new love's house and spend whole weekends, days and nights, but always worried about X cruising by my house, wondering where I was so late at night. He had no right to know my business, but I was very afraid of him anyhow, of his possible reaction to me being gone all night long, of him challenging me. He still had keys to the house, and I hadn't changed the locks, like a fool. In the privacy of my own home I kept a journal about how much I hated X and how much I loved the new man. I hid it, even though I was living alone by now. But while I was out one day, X came into the house, rifling through my things, and found my journal. He took it, without me ever knowing it, and made copies of it, replacing it without me being the wiser. X did research, using my own written thoughts and feelings against me, figuring out who the new man at work was, running background checks on him, driving by his house, driving by our work to see if our cars were there. Finally, after many months, he confronted me with it and started demanding money from me! He said I was the one who wanted the divorce, not him, and if I wanted him to cooperate and go through with it, he wanted $20,000 from me! He knew I didn't have a pot to piss in, but he knew my parents had money and demanded that I get it from them, or my new lover, he didn't care where I got it. He said if I didn't, he would make trouble for me, wouldn't go through with the divorce and would drag it out as long as possible, he would bring me up on charges of adultery and demand the judge make me give him the house, my things, my money. I tried to threaten him back, telling him I would call the cops on him about his drugs, but he laughed in my face and said go ahead. He said he would break into my house, come after me, he would burn the house down around me while I slept and there was nothing I could do about it. He could kill me before the cops could even get there. I started sleeping with a large kitchen knife on my nightstand. At this point in time, the divorce was only 3-4 months away, and I backed off, telling X whatever he wanted to hear, making him whatever promises that he wanted, just so I could get the divorce. In the back of my mind, I knew how truly lazy X was, and how unlikely it was that he would go through with any of his threats. But I also knew how angry he was, and how his temper was and how out of control he could get sometimes. I couldn't take the chance. In all the time X and I were separated, the new man never came to my house because legally I was still married and we felt it was unwise to have him be there just in case X wanted to get crazy. My dad was so angry, he offered X an immediate lump sum of five grand to get out of my life and leave me alone. X refused, saying he wanted all of the $20,000 in payments of $500 a month for the next few years. I sent him one check, then a second one, and now the divorce was finally drawing near. I pawned my wedding rings from X before I even divorced him, there was no going back, no way no how. I used the money to take a long vacation with my new boyfriend. As the divorce date came closer, X now started to call me up crying, begging me to take him back. He sent me flowers at work, sent me long passionate love letters which made me gag to read them. He promised we'd finally go to the couples therapy I had unsuccessfully begged him to go to for years. When he saw that approach wasn't working, he quickly went back to his threats of violence against me. And in the meantime, the new man moved out of his house and into an apartment in another city, closer to me. When X did his "background" check, he got the old address for my friend, not the new one. My friend now lived in a gated community, with high security, and we felt relatively safe together on the weekends. I was still, of course, living alone in my old house during the week though. Finally it was time for the divorce, and it came and went without a hitch. X did not cause any trouble, and driving away from the courthouse parking lot that day, it was the very last time I laid eyes on X. But, he wasn't out of my life completely, as he started to make threatening phone calls to me, harassing me, saying that if he ever caught me and my boyfriend out together, he would kick both our asses, he would kill us. Other times he would call to brag to me about his new girlfriend, how great the sex was, how wonderful she was- was he trying to make me jealous?? I told him I was happy for him, that I didn't care anymore, just please leave me alone. I never paid him another dime, and he was filled with black hate that I was "going back" on my "word" about giving him money- I told him what did he expect, he had blackmailed me and fuck him, he wasn't getting another cent from me, I didn't owe him anything. My parents had made the down payment on the house, I had paid all the bills while he was unemployed, I had paid for his health insurance for many years including the year of our separation, and all our bankruptcy payments for five 1/2 years had always come out of my paycheck- to pay off his debt from a failed business venture. I owed him NOTHING! I changed my phone number and got it unlisted, and I never saw or talked to X ever again. He never once tried to contact me after that, and moved to another town nearby. That was many years ago, but I still feel my blood boil just writing about it, thinking about the situation. In the end, it didn't surprise me how X behaved, because he had been such a dick for the 13 years we were married. Why did I expect him to get through the divorce with any dignity and decency? He could never see the wrong that he did to me over the years, the terrible way he had treated me, he could only focus on the fact that I ended up cheating on him. More than anything, he told me, he was upset that I had "disrupted" his life as he knew it. He never once apologized for all the years he abused me emotionally and mentally, the times he came charging at me with his fists raised only to punch a hole in the wall beside my head, all the times he screamed at me what a stupid lazy bitch I was, all the times he got angry with something simple and would pick up furniture and bust it up- all to intimidate me and make me cower and make me obey him. He never saw that his behavior was unacceptable, that it had hurt me, that I had truly tried my hardest for years to make it work between us, that it had in reality, finally driven me away to find someone else, find another life without him or his fucked up ways. But I never once regretted my decision to get out of the marriage with X, even though the whole time we were dating the new man never ever once made me a promise about having a future with him. I was okay with that, I didn't ask for or expect a commitment, at the moment I only wanted to break away from X and once that was accomplished, I would worry about the future. MY future, one of my own making, one without X there to hover over me and terrorize me. And yes, that "new man" was A, the beautiful and loving and caring human being I am married to today. I think it all worked out for the best.

Thirty-Three

Today I am trying to fight the good fight, to battle against the depression and anxiety and loneliness, to wage my war against myself. My melancholy continues, but instead of allowing it to wash over me and drag me out to sea with every wave, I am hoping to dig my feet into the sand and hold steady. I have so much good going on in my life, at a time when many Americans are drowning in despair and uncertainty and poverty. I am trying to focus on all the positives, instead of dwelling on the negatives. I have so much, I must ignore what I feel- rightly or wrongly- that I don't have. Instead of complaining about not spending enough time with A, I should feel grateful that my husband- unlike many others- has a wonderful, well-paying, stable job he goes off to every day- a job that he not only likes, but enjoys. His job, those long hours when he is gone, allows us to have a worry-free existence. When he is not here, I should stop counting the hours I am alone and instead be genuinely happy that he is not here sitting around the house with me, either unemployed or disabled or ill. It has been days upon days without the sun shining on me, literally. We have been covered in thick clouds for it seems several weeks now here, no rain, just dark swirling humid clouds that cover the sky but bring no much-needed rain. Add that to the heavy dark wood blinds that keep our windows covered- and the AC bill down- and I have spent days on end in heavy gloom. I turn on every light and lamp in the house, even light candles, but the small circles of artificial light seem even more depressing and only seem to illuminate my sadness. And still the air outside is heavy, oppressive, muggy, almost like a living thing that holds me down with its damp weight. I know autumn is on its way, and with it, relief from the summer season that I have come to despise all my life. I look forward to cool breezes and bright blue skies, colorful fall leaves and apples and local festivals. Summer has long been my enemy, and this year has been the worst of them in all my 40+ years. I count the days until the seasons change, hoping that my mood with shift with the falling temperatures. Many people suffer their depression in the winter, when they stay huddled up inside, the sunshine of the shorter daylight hours eluding them. Summer has, for me, always been a time to withdraw from the world outside, where I stay as close to a fan or AC vent as possible, where I remain still so that I don't sweat, don't feel hot and sticky and gross. I've always hated summer, even though being a southerner, I have spent decades in the heat, the choking humidity that makes hair damp and clothes cling wetly and zaps energy from my body and my brain. Summer is not a friend to the chubby. But winter is my favorite time of the year, when my energy returns, and I throw back the curtains and go outside. I long for it this year, whether or not my situation has changed. Whether or not I'm employed again. Today I raised all the blinds on all the windows in the house, and even though there is no sun shining outside, it has still made this house feel less like my cage and more like my sanctuary. Last night and this morning, I have been sitting in the rocking chair on the front porch and instead of feeling so alone on this dead end street out in the middle of nowhere, I tried to find peace of mind and a calmness, taking in all the silence. I can sit for hours, and not see one other person walk by or a car drive down my street. I see no neighbors in their yards- the stay at home mommies on my block are deep inside their own caves. I see only the tall growth of brush in the empty lots across the street, swaying with whatever wind is blowing, and I am suddenly glad there is nothing but quiet woods across the street from me. I hear nothing but crows cawing, bugs chirping, frogs calling, squirrels rusting in trees and bushes, hear the chatter of chickadees. There are no traffic noises, no human voices, only the occasional hum of our AC unit kicking on. Instead of wallowing in the self-pity of isolation, I am embracing the lack of man-made clatter and taking in the sounds of nature. How lucky I am to not deal with the echo of gunshots, the screams of fighting neighbors, the shrills of police sirens or ambulances, the earth-thumping stereos of passing cars. I know they are out there, somewhere, but miles and miles away from me, deeply entrenched here in the solitude of the rolling green hills and thick forests and small family farms. Nine months now I have been without a job to go to, left alone here in this big, empty tomb of a house. Long enough to have carried a child and given birth. Instead I have been carrying around pain and loneliness, pregnant with anger and bewilderment at my new surroundings, feeling almost betrayed and abandoned, when all A did was take a new job to secure our future. But I don't want to give life to those feelings anymore. Feeling this way has been a burden for me, a burden that sometimes overwhelms me to the point that A has to pick me up and set me back on my own two feet. It is time, overdue, to cast off this ridiculous cloak of depression I have disguised myself with lately. A disguise that is so great, I can't even recognize myself on most days. Where is the old me? It is time for her to come out of the shadows and back into the light.

Thirty-Two

I am going to keep it short today, and try and not whine too much in this post, because frankly, I'm sick and tired of it. I sound like a fucking broken record. Another long day alone, it is A's regular poker night so he will be gone a total of about 16 hours today, I will see him around 11pm or midnight. At least I got out of the house for a bit today, even if it was to go to that lowest pit of Hell known as Wal-Mart. Instead of taking the direct route there, I drove way over on the other side of the town and took back roads, both to delay my arrival there and just so I could be gone from the prison/house for a longer time. God, I hate that fucking store, if I'm not stressed and depressed when I go in, I sure as hell am after I come out. I believe the WM behemoth has corrupted us all and dumbed down our society, and we have what I call a "Wal-Mart mentality"- which means we act and expect the cheap and stupid. But, it saves us money on the groceries, so I suffer the dirty shuffling people and screaming babies with snotty faces, and sullen cashiers and rude drivers in the parking lot, to go there. But all the while I'm there I have other things on my mind, like my mom's second bout with cancer right now. It makes me scared that I will be prone to it as well. She was only about ten years older than I am now when she got it the first time, and now she has it again, just a different kind in a different place. I know I don't take care of myself- I take a lot of medication and I eat like crap and I sit on my lard ass a lot, frying my brain with dopey TV, and I get very little sleep anymore. I am fat and unhealthy and depressed and beyond middle-aged already. Unemployment has only seemed to make worse what were already pretty shitty habits. Today I skipped breakfast, had a large fast food combo for lunch, and for dinner since I'm home alone it will be a frozen pizza and soda. I could just as easily have made a salad for dinner, but did I?? If I wasn't genetically prone for cancer, the way I live my life will surely up my odds for getting it. You would think that fear would kick my ass in gear to get into better shape, to take care of myself, to be more positive about life. And A, too, his habits are just as unhealthy- with his diet and lack of exercise. But at least he has a somewhat valid excuse, working 60 or more hours a week. He is gaining weight as quickly as I am, and we are both pathetically overweight and lazy. I am seriously stupid for not doing something about it, for both of us. I can't control what he eats at work for lunch (unless I pack it for him), but I can take better care of him when he is home, and I should feel the ultimate shame for not making him take control of his health. My mom lives six hundred miles away, so it's not like I can hop in my car and go check on her, I have to rely on phone calls from the family. A wants me to go and stay with her, but my dad said no, he's taking time off from work. Makes me feel like a heel, it's not like I've got a job I can't escape from. But I make a pretty sucky nurse, because I can't even take care of myself. Also today, I know it's the anniversary of 9/11 and I have done my best to ignore the news channels who will be dredging up the old footage. I don't pretend to understand how the families feel, but I personally do not want to continue to dwell on it. I remember it clearly the first time around. I watched it live on TV as it happened. I was at work, but we all ran to the cafeteria to watch it, a few hundred of us all crowded around the set in shock. I remember going back to my office, calling X who was (typically) unemployed at the time. He was still sleeping. I kept calling him to let him know what was happening, he told me he really didn't care and to stop bugging him. He never got his dumb ass up out of bed long enough to even turn on a TV. He was that much of a selfish prick. I was one of those people who sat for hours and hours in the following days, watching it endlessly on CNN into the late night. I saw some horrifying images that to this day still haunt me. I am normally not the type to get upset over something, like natural disasters or accidents, but at the time I was numb and in shock. But now, I want to move on. Yes it was awful, and look what has become of our once fine country in the years since. I don't want to forget 9/11, but I don't want to glorify it or dwell on it either.

Thirty-One

I see marriages crumbling around me with alarming frequency these days, and it makes me scared. Scared because, if these people who I thought were happy and together for such a long time can suddenly find themselves broken apart, then what does that mean for me? A tells me all the time, we are never getting a divorce, he is sticking with me no matter what. I feel the same way. But, I was married to X for 13 years and that finally, thankfully, ended. A has been married twice before, long ago when he was in his 20's. He was single for many many years before he met me, and he resisted making a commitment for awhile. We dated for well over two years before he finally asked me to marry him, and frankly I didn't think it would ever happen. Loving someone and dating someone is a whole other game compared to marrying someone. When we got engaged, we were both actually contemplating breaking up and had talked about it, but A said that one morning he looked across the empty breakfast table and realized he wanted me there, and he missed me on mornings when I wasn't at his house. Without another thought, that afternoon he went to the jewelers, had them custom make me a two-carat diamond solitaire, and shocked me with a proposal the next day at dinner. A and I married five months later, a small ceremony on the beach with just family. X and I eloped when we were in our 20's, and no one was there for me that day, and I always regretted it- it hurt my family deeply to know that they were not included on the biggest day of my life. Actually, X is the one who insisted, he said he did not want any family there with us, and I should have seen that as a red flag but I was too dumb at the time. But A is very close to his family, as I am to mine, and A actually planned as much of the wedding as I did. What man does that?? I would like to think that A and I have a strong bond between each other, but I think everyone feels like that when they get married- otherwise, why go through with it at all? I would also like to think that this is "forever", but I thought that with X, too. Last week one of my friends of over twenty years announced that she and her husband of about 15 years were separating. She said simply, "He decided he doesn't want to be married anymore." They are in their fifties, no children, both very smart people who run their own individual businesses. He had moved out of state for his business, found a house for them, took half of their pets and almost all of the furniture. She was to follow in the upcoming months, and put their old house on the market and moved into a tiny apartment temporarily while she wrapped up things at her own office. But now he's decided he doesn't want her to be with him- he will stay in his new town and she is no longer welcome in his life. What the hell? What happened? They've weathered many hardships together and never faltered, and now what changed? A's best friend and his wife of 15 years are now proceeding with a divorce- the man had to move out of the home he shared with her and their two sons, and now he is living with his mother, very lost. He even quit his job and started seeing a therapist, trying to figure it all out. Everything he ever did, it was for his family and their future, and now it seems to be suddenly gone when his wife announced she doesn't want to be married to him anymore. But I understand, I said those exact words to X one day, and although it was a complete shock to him, I had been thinking about it for a very very long time. So what I'm trying to figure out is, even when A tells me he loves me and he's in this marriage for eternity and he is happy with me- can I whole-heartedly believe him? I'm sure our friends' spouses told them the same things through the years. A and I are only seven years into our relationship, when does the shine start to wear off? When does he stop thinking I can do no wrong, and start seeing only my flaws? What would it take to drive him away one day? If I gain another ten pounds? If I spend another hundred dollars frivolously? If I go another month without finding a job? If I serve another crappy dinner, or go another week without cleaning the toilets, or keep ignoring the stink from the litter boxes? What will it be? Will he snap suddenly, or fume silently for months? I live in constant fear of it, because we've both already had failed marriages, and what's to say one of us won't screw up again. I'm sure most people don't go around worrying about their marriage falling apart, and I'm sure the thought never enters A's mind either. But it seems to shadow everything I do. I wear one of those inane rubber bracelets, like the Lance Armstrong one. Only mine has A's name on it, I've been wearing it for almost a year now, when I first felt things starting to slip away, in my brain. I wear it as an anchor, to keep me mindful in all that I say or do, to remind me that there is someone else depending on me, someone else who will either suffer or gain from my actions. Sadly I think my biggest issue is lack of action, when I have my bad days and I zone out and ignore the world around me and never get off the depressing couch. A can tell when he comes home at night if I've had one of these days, no matter how hard I try to hide it. I want to be a good partner for him, not a burden, because how long does someone want to have to shoulder the extra weight before it becomes too much to carry around day to day? I've got to find a job, get out of this house, at least then at night when A comes home I will have accomplished something during the day, I will have something to talk about when he asks how my day was, I will have a valid excuse as to why I didn't clean up the kitchen from the night before. These last few months have been the hardest in all my 40-something years, and the worse I feel, the more it brings A down as well. He blames himself because he is the one who put in for the promotion, although we made the decision as a couple. His job caused me to give up my career, my friends, my dream house, my hobbies, my old town. Now I sit around and have none of that. I still have A, but 2 hours a night on top of 12 or more hours home alone isn't enough. I would never leave A, and I don't think he would leave me, no matter what. But just because a marriage doesn't break up, it doesn't mean it's perfect and happy either.

Thirty

I've noticed some dangerous behavior malfunctions on my part lately, and I see how deeply they are bothering A. These are habits I had issues with in the past, when I was married to X, issues I thought I had grown out of with age and experience. I have found myself lately becoming overly sensitive to almost everything A says and does, and it is making both of us crazy. Sensitive to really stupid things, because A would never say anything to intentionally hurt me, unlike X who pushed my buttons just to watch me erupt, so that he could feel all-powerful. For example, one night last week we agreed to go meatless for dinner, and have "veggie night". So while I whipped up and doctored several different kinds of canned vegetables- greens, beans, corn- A came home from work and walked in the kitchen, with a crestfallen expression and said "Oh, I thought we were having fresh vegetables" and I immediately became extremely defensive. I got ridiculously pissed off, slammed stuff around in the kitchen, and wouldn't talk to him during dinner. Why? What the hell was wrong with me? Just the night before we went through a similar routine. A came home from work, and earlier that day he'd sent me to a home improvement store to pick out a few ceiling fans that I liked, so we can redo the whole house. I took photos and wrote prices down, put everything neatly on one sheet of paper, and presented it to him that night. The first words out of his mouth were "These are sort of expensive" and I became so incensed that I ripped the paper from his very grasp and stalked off. We spent that night at the dinner table in silence as well. Two nights last week I acted that way, and no I wasn't PMSing so I don't have that as an excuse. Yes, I was in a bit of physical pain with my back and leg, but not enough to justify those unseemly temper tantrums. Poor A works a very stressful, very long day at his job and comes home to me, and I'm acting that way for no reason. He finally said maybe he should just work more hours so that he wouldn't be home to upset me. I don't know why I have been so overly sensitive lately, A did not say anything that warranted it. His remarks were not a personal attack against me, although I told him I felt he was criticizing my judgement- on the fan choices, on what I made for dinner. Realistically I know that's not true. A loves to tease and pick at me, but he does it with love and to provoke a smile from me, and I've always been good about taking it and dishing it back out. A and I have always had a very easy-going relationship full of bantering back and forth with each other, and that's part of why we love each other so much. But lately every time he picks at me about something, or even when he's not picking but just simply voicing an opinion, I feel attacked and chastised. A does not mean it in this way, I know him well enough to be sure of that. My brother-in-law teases my sister about things, like her weight, but I know he is doing it in a mean-spirited way. A does not tease me about subjects he knows I'm already sensitive about- like my weight or my house cleaning- but fairly harmless things, and he does it in order to rouse a bit of laughter from me. That's what he wants most of all when we're together- for me to smile like I used to. Instead it seems like we both always end up pouting in our own separate corners. I don't want that. My reactions, I know, are quite stupid and inappropriate, but it seems like the skin that grew thick against years of attacks from X, has suddenly started to wear thin again and every little thing A says and does irritates my nerves. A tells me every day, all he wants is for me to be happy again and to feel better, and I know he would give anything in the world for that to happen. I don't understand why I overreact when this very loving man opens his mouth to tell me something. Seems like lately it doesn't matter what it is he does or says, it's always the wrong thing. Or rather, I take it the wrong way. I know I am still fucked up inside from all the years of verbal abuse from X, but you would think that by now I would know that A is the total opposite and cherishes me and loves me and places me number one on his list of priorities. Just because I might think something, doesn't mean I need to open up my big mouth and say it. Especially when it hurts the most wonderful person in my life.

Twenty-Nine

I want to blog here today, but I'm not sure yet what kind of mood I'm in. I'm still in a fairly decent mood from the weekend, but it is Monday morning and the long, lonely week is starting and I am already obsessing about it, worrying about it, looking for all the potholes and bumps and things that will steer me off course. Why can't I be positive? Why can't I look at Monday mornings as the start of the new week, a chance to get everything right, to make the most out of my life? I don't want to get in a shitty mood already, just because the weekend is over. I don't know why I am dreading the week, I shouldn't start to get into that mentality so early, on Monday morning, but it's like I am already anticipating the loneliness and the ill moods. Instead of being comforted by the knowledge that my husband comes home to me every night, I instead dwell on all the hours during the day I spend without him. A and I had a beautiful weekend together. He left work early on Friday, was home by two in the afternoon, and we headed off to the mountains where we spent Friday night at a casino and resort we love to go to. Well, he loves the casino, I usually just sit in the room watching TV or reading. And although it is still relaxing to be somewhere other than "at home", I was alone. He tried to cheer me up by going to one of the shops and buying me yet another $300 purse, to go with all the others he buys me, but sometimes I just feel like he is trying to bribe me into a good mood, forcing a smile on my face. I know he likes to spoil me, but I would have rather had his time on Friday night, instead of another new purse. A loves the casino, most of his free time every weekend is spent playing cards at one place or another and he's very very good at it, so I don't want to deny him his guilty pleasure. But at the resort, when he is downstairs winning money at the tables, I am alone upstairs in a plush suite just mindlessly staring at the TV. What a waste of "time together". Today the weather is stunning, it's so cool I have all the windows in the house open, so I can hear the birds singing, the bugs chirping, all the sounds of life and nature. I don't feel SO cooped up in the house with the windows open, so I am hoping this will start the week off on the right foot. I have an item listed on eBay that just sold for $650 this morning, and that should be putting a smile on my face, but instead of focusing on the money I have all the negative thoughts in my head about having to box it up, go take it to the post office, etc. How stupid. I always think negative thoughts, I don't know why. My mother is like that, maybe I got it from her, she drives my father nuts with it and I probably do the same to A. I am supposed to be heading off this morning to fill out a few job applications. Not because we need the money or because A told me to, but because I can't just keep sitting around this house. But the only things around this stupid hick town are retail/fast food jobs. I haven't had to work retail since I was in my 20's, and I really dread the idea of working nights or weekends, especially since my main cause of depression is not spending enough time with A. I know I wouldn't make more than minimum wage, and maybe not even get 40 hours in, so I have to ask myself is that worth giving up what little bit of time I do have with A. He is fine with me doing this, he is also fine with me staying home. He just wants me to be happy. He wants me to get out of the house, stop being so horribly sad all the time. I have been off the pain medication for about a month now, I had hoped that would help my moods, but apparently that had nothing to do with my depression because nothing has changed. I feel like my life is such a fucking waste- a waste of time, a waste of space on this earth. I have, on a normal day, at least 12 hours to myself to do whatever whatever whatever I want. I have the money, a car, no obligations at home, and I could be doing whatever I desire- creating art, going to the gym, taking cooking classes, going back to college, hiking, driving around endlessly, just living and trying new things. A even invites me to come up and go out to have lunch with him. But I do none of it, I hardly ever leave the house unless I have a household errand where I just absolutely must go into town. I have the money, but the one thing I want the most is more time with A, but A works hard so we can have all this money. A crappy vicious cycle, and there is the proof that money can't buy happiness, as old and cliched as that saying is. I get great ideas in my head- of something to paint or flowers I want to plant or a new recipe I want to cook- and it just gets stuck in my head and I never put it into action. A would be pleased to know I did any of those things, so I have started to tell him little white lies to make him feel better. Yes, I went to yoga class this morning. Yes, I applied for that office job online today. Yes, I called and talked to my mom. Blahblahblahblah. Whatever I can think of. I always want to start the week off on the right foot, and all weekend long, every weekend, I tell myself "On Monday I will..." but I never do. I really really never used to be this pathetic, I don't know what happened. I am so damn tired of feeling sorry for myself, why can't I be happy? More than that, I don't know how to fix my life. And, will running a cash register at Burger King really solve any of my issues?

Twenty-Eight

Lately I have been struggling with trying to figure out what makes a marriage good. And what makes a good marriage a great one. I have lots of practice and experience on what makes a marriage bad. With the 13 years I suffered being married to X, it is very easy for me to now create a laundry list of what to do, and especially what not to do. Like, you don't push your spouse into the wall, you don't throw stuff at them, you don't sleep in separate bedrooms, you don't just dump them off at the hospital and leave when they're having major surgery, you don't force them to have an abortion or else you will leave them. That was life married to X. The 7 years I've spent married to A are a vast improvement because 1.- I'm a much different person now and 2.- He is not X. I would like to think that A and I have a wonderful marriage, even if we did meet later on in life when we were both approaching 40, and even if both of us already have failed marriages on our resume. I would like to think that the horrors I faced married to such an idiot like X, made me mature and grow into the person I am now, so that I can recognize and appreciate a fantastic man now that I have one. But I do have doubts, about myself, about keeping the home fires burning. When X and I split up, it surprised most people because they never knew how we were at each other's throats all the time. A few close friends knew, and they were ecstatic when I finally divorced him. But, no one really knows what goes on in the privacy of a couple's home. X was always charming and funny and brilliant out in social situations, but at home he was hell to live with and screamed obscenities and treated me like garbage. When I would mop the kitchen floor like a normal person- with a mop- he would stand behind me and yell at me about how lazy and worthless I was and that I should be down on my hands and knees with a brush, scrubbing the floor (true story, happened more than once). He told me over and over again I was a whore, that all women were whores. I asked him, does that include your mom and two sisters? YES!, he told me repeatedly. Wow, his dad, who was a chronic cheater, really fucked him up. X was once an ambitious man who was motivated and intelligent, and that's what attracted me to him in the first place. Hell, the man was SO smart he actually had a job interview at NASA, but was so stupid because he failed the drug test. Over the years I watched him spiral from a talented, lively, determined professional to become a burnt-out, drug-obsessed, aggressive, unemployed bum. My god, did I do that to him? Will I do that to A? Am I that much of a burden, am I that bad of a partner? Will I drag A down to my level, or is he strong enough to lift me up to his? It's hard for me to separate X's own failings as an individual from our cumulative failings in the marriage. Surely he didn't marry me and then suddenly decide that all women were whores- that thought was a deep-seeded, hidden fester that just finally exploded once he met me. Especially fat, lazy me who didn't even so much as look at other men, what was there to accuse me of? I remember how we dated hot and heavy in the beginning, in our early twenties, both still living at home with our parents. The minute we started living under one roof together, it was like someone had pulled a curtain down in between us. We had NO business getting married, but neither of us knew it back then. Sometimes I think I bullied him into it, gave him ultimatums, but then again I know how stubborn he was and no one, not even me, could ever make him do something he didn't want to do. He just wanted someone to cook for him and clean up after him, like his mom did, and I was awful at both. He wanted someone he could push around and control, like he did his mom, and I wouldn't put up with his bullshit, so that made him even angrier. He would get right in my face and call me an evil, conniving bitch who only wanted to hurt him (direct quote)- just because I wanted to watch something different on TV than what he wanted to watch (another true story)! Like I said, the guy had some messed up thoughts about women. Even though his parents were still married, it was obvious to me (now, not back then) that his father must have treated his mother like shit because X had big time issues that had nothing to do with MY behavior. He actually "paid" his mother once a month and told her to keep her mouth shut about his comings and goings. But there came a point, quickly, where we both just didn't give a shit anymore about each other, the marriage, our future. Just a year after we married, I was already thinking about calling it quits. But instead we just grew indifferent and somehow squeaked out a long, miserable 13 years with each other. He never would go to marriage counseling with me, I would make appointments then have to cancel them because he refused to go. Yet he was shocked when I finally told him I wanted a divorce, that I didn't love him anymore. I try to forget about my life with X, yet I want to remember it so that I avoid the pitfalls this time around. A and I seem to have lost a little of our sparkle these days, and I know a lot of it is my fault. He is still the same man, works hard, comes home to me. But since I have been drowning in unhappiness, I feel like I am taking him under with me. I feel like this move that we made, to further his career, has somehow ended up hurting our marriage. He works more hours than ever, has more responsibility, and I am more needy than before when I had a job and friends and hobbies outside the house. I am leaning on him too much, to fulfill me, and I think it's taking its toll on him, on us. And I want to stop the train wreck before it happens. We've gotten word that his best friend, who has been married to his wife for probably 15 years and has two sons with her, is now on the verge of splitting up with his family. His wife, it seems, is unhappy now and has asked him to please step back and give her some alone time, so that she can sort things out and decide if she wants to stay married to him or not. The friend is not surprised, he says they've been growing apart for some time now. I found out recently that my only sibling, who has been married to her husband for almost 20 years and has two sons with him, is having troubles in her own seemingly perfect marriage to the point that her husband gets angry and leaves the house for hours on end just to get away from them all. I know all marriages metaphorically hit speed bumps, not just out there in the busy streets of life, but in the parking lot at home as well. I know it takes hard work, and I'm prepared to do it, if only I had guidance and assignments to work on. Maybe I need to see a professional to talk it all out, I don't know. I told A that I don't feel as though we are connecting the way we used to, when we first met, and his response was to make plans and take me out of town this coming weekend. I would rather have sat down and discussed it, but it seems like every time I put voice to the unhappiness inside of me, A breaks his back to "do something" to fix it. I really just want to talk, to figure it all out, to make certain we are both on the same page. If A keeps jumping through hoops every single time I am blue, I'm afraid he is going to wear himself out, and get tired of me soon. And then what will happen? If he gets tired of trying to keep me happy, is he going to get tired of the whole marriage as well?

Twenty-Seven

The weight of the endless days spent alone are starting to crush me again. I do well on the weekends when A is home, and we're together, and I have a purpose for being alive and out of bed and dressed. I have energy and goals and I am happy when he is with me. During the week, while I sit in the house for a mind-numbing 12-14 solitary hours, I feel cursed. Why do people wish they could stay at home all day long? I don't get that. It sucks, and daytime TV is worse than death. I've been through this before, when I was married to X and I wasn't working, and he worked on the road all week long. Then it was days and nights alone, week after week. I was in a new and strange city then, stuck in a small apartment with a very large and very needy dog. At the time, I was in my twenties and a very very different person, very meek with NO self-confidence at all. I was even petrified to drive anywhere because I didn't know where I was going in the unfamiliar town, so I stayed huddled up inside the apartment for months on end. I am not that person anymore, at least I'm not afraid of jumping in my car and just driving to wherever, I'm not afraid to turn down a wrong street or take a new road. Even if I am not going to any place in particular. But the only things I ever do when I leave the house are go shopping or go eat, and I don't need to do either. So I stay here at the house, wandering around like an empty shell waiting for A to come home and fill me up and bring me back to life. I am supposed to be at yoga right now, the classes that A is paying for me to take so I can start to feel better and have a reason to get out of the house. But I don't feel like it today, at least mentally. But I will probably lie to him and tell him I went to class, to make himself feel better about leaving me alone for so long every day. I've been with A for almost seven years now, and we used to work together for all of those years except for the last few months since we moved. I know how busy he is at work, and he made it perfectly clear to me in the beginning that he was dedicated to his career and that I had to accept that about him if I wanted to share his life. On the surface, I do, and I never complain when he has to work late or go in on the weekend, or take phone calls while we're eating dinner or on vacation, or when he has to go out of town for a whole week on business- rare, but it's happened a handful of times during our marriage. One night this week he got a call from work, the fire alarm was going off in the warehouse, right as I was putting dinner on the table. He said to start without him, he had to make a few calls, to handle the situation. I sat and ate alone while he was in his home office, and I was done eating and in the living room watching TV, before he ever got back to the table. That was like a hot knife in my heart, to sit there and eat dinner all alone, but I have to be a supportive spouse and accept moments like that. I try to see how fortunate we are, that he has a stable career and makes enough money so that I am not forced to take just any job I can find in order for us to survive. I am not forced to take any job at all. I am trying to find the good in all of this time I have on my hands, but all I can see is my loneliness and isolation here on this quiet dead end street out in the country. Every day I wake up and say I will do better, I will find something to go and do for the day, I will spend the day down in the basement sorting through unpacked boxes, I will go up to my studio and paint. I will stick to my diet, I will exercise, I will clean the house, I will call my parents or old friends. And after breakfast is finished and A leaves for work, I slump like a big fat dog turd at the table and the self-pity sets in. I don't know why, I don't know where it comes from, and I am sick as hell of feeling this way. I live a charmed life- no job, no children, no bills, no worries- and I am free to pursue whatever it is I would like. But by myself. Does it really matter if I am just sitting at home, or out roaming the city streets, if I am alone either way? Would it help to wander the aisles at Barnes & Noble or Target, if I am by myself? Am I not just as lonely, even out in public? Sometimes writing this blog helps me, when I can pound out my frustrations on the keyboard and let it all out. Sometimes writing here makes me feel even worse, because I read over all my faults and flaws and ridiculous whining when I have no reason to whine. No reason! But I do it nonetheless.

Twenty-Six

Today the unhappiness still prevails, and I can't put my finger on it. It is as elusive as ever. I am supposed to be leaving for yoga class right now, but I don't want to go today, even though my therapist told me it will help with the pain, even though A says it will help get me out of the house. I pay $25 a month for a studio, and I can go take yoga as often as I want, they have two classes a day, but I've only been once so far. I tell myself, if I skip this morning, maybe I will go this afternoon but that is doubtful. Maybe I will go tomorrow instead, that is doubtful as well. I have so many things to do with my time, and I don't do any of it. I have a painting project I started over the weekend, that I should be finished with already, but I can't make myself get up and go work on it. I have boxes down in the basement that I still haven't unpacked since we moved here in December. I have a ton of shit I should be listing on eBay and selling, but I stare at those things and instead feel numb and lethargic with the idea. The novel I started a few months ago, which I quickly cranked out 30,000 words on, just sits by idly as an icon on my desktop. All of my life, I've been so good about starting things, but never finishing them, and I don't know why. I was never like that at work, just at home. At work I was the most dependable employee there, and worked the hardest and the fastest. I used to think I "burned up" all my energy at work, so I never had anything left once I got home, my body was tired, my brain was frazzled, and I didn't feel guilty about coming home and relaxing. But now I'm not working, so what is the excuse? Why can't I find the energy or desire to do even the simple things in life? I am not talking about getting on my hands and knees and scrubbing the kitchen floor. I'm talking about fun projects like putting photos away in an album, or going through my books to sell on eBay, or even something so mindless as cross-stitching. It takes little to no effort to sit and sew, but I don't do it. I have so many sewing projects that I started, and very rare is it that I finish any of them. I lose interest, and move on to the next greatest thing, but that interest doesn't last long either. I have a garden out back, everything I planted in the spring, and my plants are loaded with vegetables and yet I can't muster the energy or even desire to go out my back door and pick the fresh tomatoes and peppers that A loves so much. Last night I served some of our homegrown tomatoes at dinner, just sliced with salt, and A acted like it was the finest caviar, he devoured them and praised them. Such a simple little thing, like picking a tomato for the man I love, and I can't even get slightly inspired to do it. We have two acres of land surrounded by woods, it's not like I want to avoid going outside because of the neighbors or anything. I have my privacy back there. Our house is three stories, the plants are on the patio on the ground level, and there is a deck above it. A worked very hard to create the patio for me, he cleaned up the land and put down rock and stepping stones, hung windchimes for me, put two chairs and a table and candles and plants out there. All for me to enjoy the outdoors in the shade. Do you think I ever go out there? Very very rarely, and I feel shame for that, for not wanting to even spend a lazy afternoon out on my own patio. I can't seem to extricate myself out of the living room long enough. There are so many things around the house that I just must attend to, like the dry cleaning mounded up in the closet- A's very expensive work clothes that I am too lazy to iron so I take out to someone else instead. The recycling is piling up in the garage, and we make every effort to separate and recycle everything, but I can't seem to make myself drive over to the recycling center to drop it all off- it's less than five miles up the road, but my mind shuts down suddenly when I look at the plastic and newspaper pouring out of their containers. What is wrong with me? Now that my pain is lessening day by day, I have made myself do more housework, but mentally I am completely checked out while I do it, I don't see anything or hear anything around me, I just go through the motions, empty inside. Why can't I find any joy or satisfaction with keeping the house clean? Why don't I do anything all day long? I watch the hours alone tick by, 12, 13, 14 hours or more on some days before A gets home. What did I do all day long? What did I accomplish? Where did that time go? I don't know, I can't answer it, the minutes just seem to slip away from me every day. I've been out of work for over seven months now, and it has flown by, and in that time I have accomplished nothing. Nothing at home, nothing outside the house. I don't know where my life is going, and I can't believe that I was meant to stay at home all day all alone. I have no purpose in life, no reason to even get out of bed in the mornings, but I do because I can't let A know that's how I feel. Some days, after he goes back to work, I go back to bed and will sleep until lunch. Those are rare days, because usually I am not sleepy and staying in bed is pointless. It only feeds my worthless feelings about myself. I make to-do lists almost every day, and I never finish them. But I have no excuses, I've got all day to myself with no distractions to keep me from finishing the laundry, or a painting, or writing my book, or harvesting veggies. I feel like a disaster, a train wreck in the purest sense, even though the physical pain is getting better I still feel like I am spiraling out of control mentally. I was not made to be a simple housewife, I hate this life, I don't know what to do with myself. I need help, I need direction. I need a new life.

Twenty-Five

In my mid-40's, am I too old to have mommy issues? I swear, mine has been driving me bonkers lately. I'm glad my parents are still alive and healthy and happily married, but I'm also glad they live about 600 miles away. Still, they have the phone and email at their disposal. My mom especially drives me insane. She is the queen of insulting, unsolicited advice, and most days I can hold the phone away from my ear while I watch TV and just let her say her piece. Other times she gets right under my skin and I feel a pinprick of pain, and I have to defend myself. Of course, whenever I say something she doesn't like, or doesn't agree with, she accuses me of being in a bad mood and how I obviously don't want to talk to her. You fucking think so?? Gee, what gave it away? But of course, she will call again, the next day, or maybe the next day. I have always hated talking on the phone, loathed it, even in high school when it was supposed to be the "norm" for teens to stay on the phone for hours. I hated it, and I can remember simply hanging up on people who would call and want to talk about BS for way too long. So, knowing this, I don't know why my mom calls me all the time, and expects that I want to chat with her on the phone, when I didn't even want to talk to my high school boyfriends or my best friend. Then she gets in a pissy mood when I don't sound overjoyed to hear from her. Truth be told, we have caller ID and when I see it is her, I usually don't answer the phone. But then sometimes she will call back again, and then when I don't answer it, the next day I have to give her an hourly report of my day as to why I wasn't "at home" when she called. My mom is not some decrepit old loon in a nursing home, calling me because she is lonely. My parents are fairly young (60's) and very active and have a beautiful home and lots of friends and travel a lot and have an extremely busy social calendar. Plus my sibling and her family all live in the same town with the folks. But, still, my parents always call me to say they are "worried" about me and just want to check in with me. Okay, I'm not ten and I'm not away at summer camp. I'm a grown woman with a wonderful husband who takes excellent care of me, we aren't in financial trouble, I'm not deathly ill, I don't have grandkids for them, and I really lead a very boring life and have nothing to say when they do call me. My parents have always treated me like I was a little kid, and one of these days I keep thinking it will stop, but it never does. My mom is the worst. When my dad calls me, he doesn't bug me too much, although he goes through the "I worry about you" crap, which I have no idea WHY he would say that or feel that way. They don't read this blog, so they don't know how unhappy I am- I put on my fake smiling, cheery face whenever I deal with anyone so they won't know. So, it sort of annoys me that my dad feels like he has to constantly check on me, when I feel like that is A's job to take care of me. My dad makes me feel like he doesn't trust A to do right by me, and that daddy has to step in, which is totally ridiculous, and completely out of line. But my mom, my god, she does nothing but criticize me about everything. She always has, and she probably doesn't realize it, and I'm too nice to say anything harsh to her. But she has always said things to chip away slowly at my self-esteem, says things that make me second guess myself, or make me feel like I've done something wrong when I haven't. For instance, I struggle with my weight, always have. If we go to visit my parents, my mom will actually fuss at me if I have a can of Coke, out loud, in front of others. I want to say, fuck you, I'm an adult I will have a god damn Coke if I want one, so shut up! But I just sit there and try to let it just roll off my back. I don't think she sees it as criticism, she will say she is "only trying to help", but I don't need that kind of help, I don't need my mommy to tell me, at 43, that I should be having water and not soda. God!!! I hate it, it makes me insane, it makes me see red, it gets my anger boiling faster than anything else on the planet. She feels like because she is my mother, she is allowed to comment on anything in my life. I like that I can have an open relationship with my parents, and tell them what's going on, but it's almost like that openness comes at a price because I'd better be prepared to get bombarded with negativity from my mother, or doubt from my father. I know back when I was in my 20's, and with X, maybe I needed them to lean on, to borrow money from, to help me out with advice or whatever. But that was 20 years ago, I am a different person, A is so totally opposite of X, and A puts me above all else in his life so he is going to take care of me. Surely my parents realize this by now. Yesterday I got a phone call from a company about 25 miles away, in another county, saying I had applied for a job there and would I come for an interview. I was confused, because I did send my application in at a few places here and there several months ago, but I didn't remember this place, this far away, this recent. I just shrugged and thought my memory was getting fuzzy lately. As I'm mentioning this to my dad on the phone, he told me that HE had sent my resume to an acquaintance over in that town, and they had probably sent it in for me. I'm like, what the fuck?? I don't really want a job right now, and I sure as hell do not want to commute 45 minutes one way to work. He didn't even ask me if this was okay, just took it upon himself to try and find me a job! I'm sure he did it out of love, but I mean, come on give me a fucking break already! This job would mean I would be gone from the house from 7am-6pm every day. No way, no way in hell do I want that. I always say, my parents kill me with their kindness, they smother me with love, and I can't tell them to back off, it would hurt their feelings. So instead, I'm the one who sucks it all up and tries to just deal with it. Yesterday, because I wasn't on my other blog all weekend long, both my parents called me in the middle of the afternoon to "check on me". I was like, are you kidding me???? I wasn't on my blog because I was out for the weekend having a nice time in the real world with A. But to them, they automatically think something must be "wrong". I wanted to shoot myself yesterday, in fact, I just told my mom I was busy with something and couldn't talk, I just couldn't take talking to her. Yes, I know I will miss them one day when they are gone, but good god they can't leave me alone for one minute it seems. My dad emails every day, sometimes several times, my mom calls almost every day, they say they just want to know I'm well and alive. I'm thinking, if I fucking die, surely A will call them and let them know! They want to come and visit next month, and I swear I don't know if I am in the mood for them right now or not. They always invite themselves, they always have, as though we are going to drop everything for them. They wanted to come a particular weekend this month, and I told them sorry, no, we already have plans with A's family out of state. They sounded pissy, said it was the only weekend that worked for them, I told them sorry we have plans. So now they've come up with another weekend next month. I was like, whatever, knowing they are going to come no matter what, I can't postpone it. And knowing them, they will want to be here for Christmas too. Maybe if I am not working by then, we can go to them, and come and go on our own terms, instead of hosting them at our house where we are stuck with them until they want to leave. I am just griping today, they have just been annoying the hell out of me lately, calling, emailing, constantly asking me if everything is okay just because I don't email them back every five minutes. Just because I'm sitting at home all day long, does not mean I have nothing to do with my time! So, I will just continue to not answer the phone when they call, then make up some excuse as to where I was when they called- like it's any of their god damn business!

Twenty-Four

I am so very sad today, for many reasons. The weather- it's dark and blustery and raining out. My husband- he is home so little that I actually talk to my chiropractor more often than A. Life- today a bird got trapped inside our garage, and it died of terror and exhaustion, and I haven't stopped crying about it all day. Isolation- my only connection to the outside world is through emails and Facebook and my other blog. A is too busy to talk to me during the day, if he does call me it is a real treat but very short, because he's always so terribly busy at work. He still likes to check in on me, though, to see how I'm feeling, but sometimes I am just stumped for something to say to him. Imagine that, a wife who can't think of anything to say to her own husband. Not like I'm 12 and this is the cute boy from school I have a crush on, and I'm tongue-tied. This is my main man, my heart, my everything, the man I have slept beside for six years now. But I am just like, yeah, okay, whatever, when we talk. Probably why he doesn't call every day. Probably why sometimes he just reads the paper in the morning at breakfast, because I don't have anything to say. I know he would listen, as he always does when I need to talk, when I need to pour my heart and my thoughts out to him. Isolation sucks, and moving to a new city isn't as easy as just going somewhere and starting up a conversation with a stranger, and suddenly pledging our undying sisterhood and loyalty to each other. Yesterday in line at a fast food place, the lady who walked in with me talked on end about the beautiful flowers planted out front. Nice chat, but I am not going to be making friends with an elderly black lady at the Chick-Fil-A over advice on planting perennials. I was polite, and thanked her for her advice, and moved on. I've always had good friends, although I don't know why people even like me. But I've also always had a job, and had 40 hours a week to connect with people. When we moved in January, I left behind super wonderful girlfriends whom I adored, and who loved me back. I have a twisted sense of humor, and I am blunt and honest, and I don't take bullshit from people and I also don't dish it out. I am not a typical girly-girl, as far as gossip and margaritas and skirts and manicures and the tanning booth. That's not me. So the women I've been friends with over the years, were ones who accepted me for who I really was, and who appreciated me for it. I've always been an oddball, and I don't care, I even enjoy the fact that I am not a bloated, boring, superficial soccer mom. So, my friends have always been the non-mainstream type. One of the good friends I left behind had been divorced well over twenty years, and likes it that way. My other good friend was as sensitive as I was crass, but we seemed to all three balance things out when we were around each other. They email, they call, they invite me to come back and visit. But it's not the same. I miss seeing faces, hearing voices, even a light touch on the arm while talking over coffee, five mornings a week and sometimes at dinner out. I know whenever I go back to work, I will make friends. At least I hope so. Everywhere I've worked, I've made at least 1-2 good girlfriends. At least at the jobs where I stayed for awhile. I was at my last job for 8 years, and I was on top of the totem pole, and one of the boss' favorites. Everyone loved me, everyone respected me, everyone depended on me, everyone looked at me for answers. It was a hard thing to give up, I would have worked there until retirement, if I could have- I had finally finally found the place I belonged and the place I loved to be. But I gave it all up because I love A more than I loved that job. He pays the bills, with his six figures, not me with my measly hourly wage. How could I tell him not to accept the big promotion in favor of me keeping my lowly office job? A depends on me too, but the things he needs from me- cleaning the house, picking up his dry cleaning, running to the bank, cooking dinner- are not things I really want to be doing for even myself, much less for the two of us. I swear to all that's holy, if I was a richer woman I would hire a personal assistant to do all that shit, that mundane but necessary crap that is required by life. A may not have made good new friends since we've moved, but he actually lived in this town once before, back in the late 1980's, so he still has friends here from back then and they get together. Guy friends, no room for the little wifey, although he invites me occasionally (I politely decline). I don't think A realizes the depths of my loneliness, the pining that I have for my old friends, and my desire to make new friends. I tried once going shopping and to lunch with his boss' wife, but she was a dull, bleached, young, skinny mom and I had absolutely nothing in common with her. It was painful to make conversation, and that was months ago and she's never called me again. Guess it was painful for her, too. I don't need to go back to work for the money, although extra income is always nice, but I need it more to socialize than anything else. But with the economy, and this little country bumpkin town, my choices are limited. And I don't want to drive 40 minutes to the "big city". A has forbid me from working a retail job, because he wants me at home at night and on weekends, our only time together. He said what little bit of money I would make, wouldn't be worth us losing our few precious hours that we have with each other every week. And we do seem to go out of town almost every weekend, and Wal-Mart is probably not going to let me have every Friday night and every weekend off. So. I sit at home, friendless, quiet, watching the clock and counting the hours, the minutes, until A gets home. Some nights it's six, some nights it's after nine. I never know. I feel as though if I stay trapped in this house much longer, I really will go fucking insane, in the true sense of the word. A nervous breakdown. Can someone have a nervous breakdown and get overly stressed out, because they have too much silent, alone time on their hands? How can I be stressed when I don't do anything or see anyone all day long? I have to wonder about that. I do get out of the house. I see the chiropractor 3-4 times a week right now, I get a massage once a week from the same lady, every Friday morning I go to my weekly support group, I go to the same dry cleaner 2-3 times a week, I even joined a gym and met with a personal trainer. But, those are not places where I'm going to make a good friend. Those are acquaintances, and there's a huge difference. I am not going to strike up a long talk on a deep subject with the old guy on the treadmill beside me, you know? A doesn't understand why I'm not "meeting" people, and I look at him like he's gone bonkers. Meet people? At the bank? At Target? What, are you kidding? He doesn't get it. He also doesn't work here in the town where we live, he heads off north towards the super big metropolis near where we live. He barely spends any time here in our new "hometown", even on the weekends we go look for entertainment elsewhere. So, he doesn't realize how damn small it is here, and how there is nothing to do, and no one to do it with. My favorite hobbies are even ones I do alone- reading, painting, writing, sewing. Even our subdivision is dead during the day, and if there are people at home they must be deep within the caves of their own houses because I don't see anyone. The house beside us has been empty for six months now, the house on the other side has two white-haired old Germans living there who barely speak English, and across the street is an empty field because no house was ever built on that lot. Behind me are many many acres of woods. I even live on a cul-de-sac at the very very back of the subdivision, how much more isolated can we get? Oh yes, did I mention we are the only subdivision out here, on this long country road? I am surrounded by pastures filled with horses and cows, and a goat farm. That is isolation, truly. Gone are the days when a new family moves in and the neighbors all come over with fresh apple pies and baskets of cookies, to introduce themselves, to have a block party or BBQ. We all have our little cocoons, and most of us stay in them, and rarely do we let anyone in from outside our already long-established circle. I know it will be a long time before I have a good friend here, someone I can meet for coffee on Saturday morning, or go shopping with at lunch, or gab with on the phone at night about what happened in the office that day. Sadly, I am craving that so much right now. I would like to say that I'm basically an antisocial person, but now that I'm alone all day long, I am more miserable than I've ever been in my entire life.

Twenty-Three

I am trying to force myself to feel better about life, since I have a light at the end of the very long, black tunnel that has been my existence in the most recent past. Another round with the therapist this week left me bruised and out of sorts again, but I know I have to go through this more intense pain in order to be rid of the old pain. Make sense? I am trying to work through it. She says that once she releases all of my contracted muscles in my leg and back, I won't need to see her again, this will not be an ongoing therapy. She will either cure me in a few more visits, or cut me loose, she is not going to suck me dry of all my hope and all A's money. I feel myself getting better with every session, but as with all things, I am impatient impatient impatient. Now that I am starting to feel better physically, I am starting to get more stressed out mentally and very frustrated. I don't want to wait another month, another six weeks, I want ALL the pain gone NOW. Only it doesn't work that way, short of some trauma that would leave me paralyzed from the waist down. I don't remember what I was like before I fell into a pit of chronic pain, and I don't think A remembers either because in our years together, the last nearly four have been with me in this state, this mood, this eternal cycle of waking up hating my life and going to bed at night hoping it will be over soon. What scares me the most is that, once I am cured of my physical ailment, will the emotional aspect of it get better as well? With the chronic pain, I have stopped going out of the house much, I do as little moving around as possible, I have given up almost every hobby that I once loved, I gained an excessive amount of weight, I've forgotten about our once hot and passionate sex life, I've gotten in the habit of ignoring my housework due to the pain, I make excuses constantly for being tired and in a pissy mood and not wanting to do things or go places. Once the pain is gone, what will be my crutch? How long will it take before I can lose the weight, initiate sex again, find a job, scrub the kitchen floors, start painting again? How much patience will A have for me then, because he has been insanely patient with me so far, because he says he understands I can't help it, I can't do certain things. Now when I snap at him, I apologize and say I'm sorry I'm just in a lot of pain today, and he is okay knowing that. Once I am pain free, what will I say when I get livid and want to throw something, or storm off and slam a door, when I want to be left alone? Last night I expected A to be gone until late, he has a standing Friday night out with a guy he's been friends with for almost 20 years. I encourage him to go, why should he stay at home like a lump on the couch just because that's what I do? Instead, he was home by 9:30 last night, and instead of being tickled pink to have him home early, I got stupidly disgruntled and not long afterwards I had picked a fight so that I could have an excuse to go on to bed. It left A very confused, and he came in our room later to ask me why I was mad at him. I sighed, kissed him on the cheek and said I wasn't mad, I was just not feeling well and I didn't mean to take it out on him. I love A so much it scares me, but I am also relieved when he is not here, when he has to work late, when he wants to go out with his buddy. I feel like I almost push him out the door sometimes, because I want to be alone, but I am miserable with desire for him the minute he leaves, and I am more lonely but more relaxed at the same time. A is actually younger, but in many ways he has always represented a father figure to me. X was SO immature, despite being older, and so irresponsible that in our 13 years together, I felt the weight and the burden of running the household and paying the bills myself. X was unemployed at least once a year, and although I did take the richer or poorer vows, somehow the fact that he actively enjoyed being unemployed SO much so he could sit at home and stay high, used to piss me off as I went off to work every day. Water under the bridge now, but I grew up in a family where my father worked two sometimes three jobs so my mom could stay home and raise the children. That was my model of a man and a father and a husband. X fell short in almost all of my expectations, which was surprising, because both of his parents were hard-working and self-made millionaires, and he apparently had not inherited any of their drive or determination, or pride. On the other hand, A was raised, poor, on a farm in the country, and he worked hard all of his childhood, he said his parents never let him have a moment of playtime in his entire life. And he is still that way now. The man easily works 60 or more hours a week, and loves it, loves his job, loves his company and everything about it, loves the mere fact that he works. And he earns every penny of his six-figure income. A holds a very high position at his company, he has about 400 employees under him, and he runs about four or more large departments. But he's good at it, which is why he has climbed the company ladder so quickly, and will continue to climb I'm sure. He has ambitious goals in mind, but if he stayed at his current position for another twenty years, I think he'd be happy too. A's whole job is comprised of making decisions all day long, of being responsible, of expecting perfection, of taking no bullshit from his guys, he's a leader and motivator and mentor. Then he comes home to me, a pathetic dinner that he usually has to help prepare and clean up after, a dirty house, litter boxes full of poop, an unmade bed, laundry sitting wrinkled in the dryer for two days, crumbs and dust bunnies all over the hardwood floors. His wife who can barely function, let alone get her ass off the couch and do all that stuff, which for anyone else would be such a simple thing. He says he doesn't care, but I also think he's a damn good liar, because he doesn't want to hurt my feelings so he says it doesn't bother him that there is cat vomit drying in the carpet of his new half-million dollar house, while his wife is sitting right there flipping mindlessly for hours through reruns on the TV. I care too, but I never can seem to will my body to get up and do it. I am revolting. And if I sicken myself that much, how can A not feel sickened at the mere sight of me as well? How?? And as much as I love A, as much as I wish I could spend every waking minute with him, I feel numbing relief when he calls to say he'll be about an hour late for dinner, because that is another hour of my night where I don't feel the burden of being his wife. When he's not here, I can't disappoint him, I can't annoy him, I can't disgust him- he doesn't ever feel those things towards me, but in my head I feel like he should, so I get myself all worked up about my behavior because he is there to bear witness to it (and yet he doesn't judge me for it). Home alone, I just don't give a shit, and no one is here to remind me that I should give a shit. But as soon as he comes through the door I suddenly see all of my flaws, I see the breakfast dishes still sitting in the sink, I remember the clean towels from the weekend that I haven't folded and put away yet, I know he will inevitably ask me how I'm feeling, what did I do that day? Not to point blame, not as in "what the fuck have you been doing all day you stupid lazy bitch?" which is what X would have said. A means it like "hi honey I'm glad to be home to you, did you do anything fun today that we can talk about at dinner?" It doesn't matter, I have nothing to tell him, and instead of saying that, I start trying to make excuses as to why I didn't finish the laundry or clean the toilets. A doesn't really want to hear all of that, he doesn't care, he just wants to come home and know that I'm okay, and he wants to hear that I'm feeling better, and he wants to know that I love him. A would gladly take me out to dinner every night, and take me away every weekend, and get me a maid, if that's what I wanted, because that's how much he dotes on me, that's how much he just wants me to be happy. But, I don't want those things, and how do I tell my husband that being with him, because he's so wonderful, is just a reminder for me about what a failure and a loser I've become. So when he says, hey, Best Friend and I want to go out and drink a few beers, play some pool, but is that okay with you sweetheart because you and I can instead go out and do something just the two of us if you want- I look at him and say, gladly, go out with Best Friend. I want to scream STAY, stay here with me, stay here and keep me company and try to make me happy, but then all I can do is just sit on the couch and zone out, and why should he have to do that too? Even tonight, when Best Friend called him, I told A to go out and have fun, A got as far as his car and while still sitting in the garage called me from his cell phone and said are you sure you don't want to go out with us, we'll have fun- I just said go, I will see you when you get home. On the inside, I was dying, to be with him, to have him be with me, but I just don't want to go or do anything and I'm not going to punish him for that. Most wives bitch because their husbands go out too much, stay gone too late, and I am the polar opposite because I feel bitterness mingled with joy whenever mine wants to go out, and I never say no, never get upset when he calls at 10 to say it'll probably be after midnight when he gets home. I don't care, the later the better, which is what my head is saying as my heart feels the loneliness. Just to get me out of the house, into the sunshine and fresh air, A took me for a ride out in the country today, with the top down in his sports car, and we had a nice lunch on a lake. And on those occasions, while I'm away from the house and alone with him, I really do feel good, back like it was when we were dating and I was happy. But as soon as we got back into the house, the first thing I did was look down at the cat hair on the carpet and start to feel like shit about myself again. Now that A is out for the night with his buddy, I can relax and go back to not caring anymore about anything. Because whenever A is around, all I do is care about him and about our life, when in reality I want an excuse not to feel anything at all. Not even love. Being around A makes me feel more, and I just don't want to.