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!