Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Once I decided that some things just aren’t appropriate for a public blog, I lost a lot of juicy material. This is not the place to lay into your Husband, or your MIL, or your friends, no matter how pissed you may be at them.
That said, I should note that things have been bumpy at home of late. Without going into details, let me just say that the bumpiness resulted in another intense conversation last night after Duckie was convinced to go to sleep (sometimes you just have to resort to the Chair – the rocking chair, that is.) Given that I’m at a loss how to get over this 3-4 year slump that Buffy noticed several years back (in other words, I can’t seem to maintain a relationship longer than 4 years), I suggested a marriage counselor. Not just individual counseling – we’re already both doing that (I’m going back to Brent next Monday.) But a marriage counselor, who will hopefully help us learn the tools we will need to use to heal our relationship and enjoy our marriage again. Yeah, I know it’s work. I know it’s not all fun and games – believe me, I know. But right now I think we’re both pretty miserable and neither of us can really put a finger on what’s causing it specifically.
Maybe it’s a habit thing. I’ve heard that it takes about three months to establish good habits – brushing your teeth, eating better, exercising, etc. And three months to banish bad ones (smoking, perhaps?) We were separated for about three months. Over the course of those months, I went from panic (oh my God how I am I going to do this on my own?) to determination (OK you wimp, you can DO this already) to solid decision-making (let’s get a routine together, folks!) to some level of comfort (ah, same old same old – just the way we like it.) Husband has been back for just under a month now, and I don’t think we’ve given things enough time to really percolate or settle down. That’s part of it. Other things are also affecting how we connect and relate to each other, but that’s for counseling – not for this blog.
Along those same lines, I reminded myself last night that it has only been four months since the shit hit the fan Election Night. That’s not really a long time to heal from something so large and ugly. I haven’t forgotten it. I am still horrified by my own intent that night, and horrified by the effect it had on Husband. You can’t just “get over” something like that in a couple of months – not unless you’re totally numbed out, not really dealing with it, and kidding yourself to boot. And I am anything but numb these days.
Maybe my difficulty in adjusting to living with someone again is partly because I was an only child. I’ve been used to solitude most of my life. It doesn’t bother me much to be on my own – at least, it didn’t once I got past the initial shock of living off-campus and paying my own bills. (Do you remember that afternoon, Ebby? When we had just moved into the Royal Palm duplex in Sarasota, we were talking about electric deposits and security deposits, and I burst into tears, completely unable to cope?) Maybe solitude is my natural state, and I will have to really work to learn how to live happily with someone else.
Duckie doesn’t count as “living with someone” at this point. I know – she should – but it still feels like she’s so much a part of me that taking care of her is like taking care of myself – just something that happens, and really doesn’t disrupt the routine. Which was, after all, created based on her habits and preferences. Later that will change, I know.
Matters are not improved by another oncoming illness – mine, in this case. Yesterday afternoon my running buddy and I attempted a circuit around the lake. After three or four intervals, during which the wind and rain joined forces with the pain in my joints to de-motivate me completely, I gave up and went to pick up Duckie. Over the course of the evening the aches really set in, I started running a slight fever, and the chills showed up to join the party. I wasn't able to get warm until I ducked under the covers with a heating pad. Woke up this morning with a nasty sore throat and more snot. God, I am so sick of not feeling well.
Found out this morning that while I was freaking out to Buffy on the phone yesterday about multiple life issues, she was (and is still) going through her own hell. Brett’s father is dealing with serious health issues – this, right on the heels of losing his wife, Brett’s mother. The situation is obviously more complex than I can go into here – if you’re close to Buffy & Brett you will likely be seeing them this weekend anyway for Brett’s birthday party. I’m mentioning it here so that if you’re not in close contact with them, you might could send some strength and/or prayers their way.
The only thing that makes life possible is permanent, intolerable uncertainty; not knowing what comes next.
Ursula K. LeGuin
Posted by andi at 9:53 AM