I asked J this weekend about me going back to work. It's been five months now since I left my job, and other than getting my (non-selling) pottery listed on Etsy and losing 30 pounds, I haven't accomplished a damn thing. J said he really does not want me to go back to work right now. Our old company would love to have me back, other departments said they would take me and I wouldn't have to deal with my horrible ex-boss. I am flattered, but J said even if I do go back to work, he doesn't want me coming back to that place. Long time employees are jumping ship, and newbies are fleeing within months of starting. It's just turned into a terrible atmosphere. J would get gone if he could, but he's toughing it out at least until our house is paid off in three years. Not having a mortgage would free him up to find a less demanding career, perhaps doing something he wants to do, instead of something he has to do in order to be a fiscally responsible provider and head of household.
I do have a guilty conscience that I am now at home and J has to continue to work. It's not as though I'm at home raising children- or chickens or goats or anything. The cats are very independent and prove it to me every day by strutting away to go sleep in the nearest sunny spot. J is now doing all the heavy lifting in this marriage. I worry about him becoming resentful, but after all, isn't "retirement" the desired outcome of people our age? I doubt most couples both retire on exactly the same day. My mom never worked, even after we kids were no longer under foot. J's mom stopped working decades ago. I may not be a mom, but I'm still a wife and a partner, I can still claim "home maker" or "house wife" as my title if I have to, as lame and unnecessary as that might be. I worry that even if J really wanted me to go back to work, whether for the money or to keep me sane, he would say he wants me at home because he thinks that's what I want to hear from him.
Perhaps my most recent sadness stems from the post-surgical pain that is still lingering. It's not horrible, but it is constant. I still wear my brace when I need to, and I have been icing down the site every day to help with internal bruising, swelling, and pain. The surgeon assured me it's perfectly normal, that while he was repairing the tendon he had to move aside many of the nerves, therefore they got pretty beat up in the process. The pain I was having before the surgery seems to be gone, so once the nerve pain ends I hope that my depression lightens as well. It's been a long year. Many of the major things I planned to do once I left work- gardening, painting, cleaning up the basement- were put on the back burner. I have to believe that being pain free physically, will also help heal much of the emotional pain and self-hate as well. I haven't had a pain free existence for about seven years now, it would be remarkable to experience it, to not even have to think about it anymore. Pain makes me feel worthless, hopeless, less than a whole human.
I feel as though I have NO RIGHT to complain about anything, pain included. I feel beyond fortunate, and I get mad at myself for feeling anything other than spiritual bliss and complete gratitude. I may not have won the Powerball, but I've won the lottery of life. But that's been the point of my blog. I have all the comforts that this world has to offer, but I am still always so miserable and so very unhappy. Why? Besides untreated depression. I've tried to start a daily gratitude journal, but I don't keep at it for very long. I haven't tried in a long time, and perhaps it would be a good project to get rolling again. Last year, when I was going through a rough patch, J gave me a stack of blank index cards and every day for a few weeks he had me write down five good things that happened that day, or five things I was happy about. He said I couldn't repeat anything from day to day. Every evening I had to give him my card and he kept them all. I know he meant well and it was just an exercise much like a gratitude journal, but it just showed me how much I had to struggle just to come up with five happy thoughts for one day.
J still says that the only thing he wants out of life is for me to be happy and healthy, which was the number one reason he wanted me to quit my job and stay home. But he also said he expects to see results and improvements, to make the financial sacrifice of my job worth it. Every night when he gets home, he asks me two questions. Did I take all my medicines, and did I get on the treadmill. Those are his chief concerns about my day. If I answer yes to both of those queries- and by that I mean did I actually truthfully do those things and I'm not just saying yes to appease him- then everything else in his world is okay. All the hardships and frustrations he endured himself at work, are worth it so that his wife can take care of herself. That's the type of husband he is. And of course if I'm not doing those two things, my blood pressure monitor and the bathroom scale will tattle on me. Not that he looks at or keeps track of any of those numbers, but I do. If walking two miles on exercise equipment in the basement sends my husband over the moon with joy, then I would be a pretty big idiot not to do it faithfully. If I forget to unload the dishwasher or take out the trash, those are offenses he can and does overlook.
I don't want to go on prescription medications for depression, I already take enough pills every day for all my other physical ailments. I don't think I could stand adding more to my routine. I've turned to the web for help. At this point I'm open to anything. Herbs, tea, yoga, meditation, organic, vegan. I don't care. Just something to clear away the doleful dust bunnies in my brain and get me back on the right road.
Yes it's dawn as I write this and a new day, but sometimes that fresh start is the hardest part for me to deal with, it puts so much pressure on me. Sometimes it's the very end of the day, when it's all over at least for just a little while, that I look forward to the most.
MISS GEE
