She Has Breast Cancer…Again

My grandma officially has breast cancer.

Again.

She goes for an MRI on Monday, a consultation when the results come back, and then surgery to remove any surrounding tissue that may contain the disease.  The MRI will tell her if it has spread and where she needs to have tissue removed. 

This is so hard. 

So far, it’s not as bad as it was 20 years ago.  The lump is smaller this time.  But it doesn’t make it easier.  She’s pretty upset.

I found out from my uncle while I was talking to him about an unrelated issue.  My mom didn’t even tell me.  That was the part that really upset me.  I immediately hung up and started to cry.  Cry out of worry for my grandma and because my mom promised to call me as soon as she found out.  She called me later and said, “I know you already know…blah blah blah.” 

This sucks.

Social Phobia?

I have recently come to realize that I have a real problem.  Whether or not it is a mental disorder or just something inside of me, I don’t really know.  All I do know is that I want it to stop.

I am afraid that I have Social Phobia. 

Social phobia is an intense fear of becoming humiliated in social situations, specifically of embarrassing yourself in front of other people.  It often runs in families and may be accompanied by depression or alcoholism.  Social phobia often begins around early adolescence or even younger.  You can read more here.

It’s very embarrassing.  It’s not something I want to live with.  I don’t think I really thought about it until it started interfering with my personal life.  I tend to get very worked up when we have to go to someones house that I don’t know or am not familiar with.  I try to think of every possible excuse in my head why I shouldn’t or can’t go.  I don’t always express my feelings, I just spin them around in my head until I drive myself nuts.  I start making things out of nothing.  I start assuming things are going to happen, although I know in my right mind that I’m being ridiculous.  I am so worried about what other people think of me.  I worry they aren’t going to like me; I worry that I won’t know what to say or what I say will sound stupid or come out slurred; I worry they are going to judge me as being bitchy because I am a quiet, reserved person; I worry I will not look good; I worry I won’t fit in; I worry that people are always looking at me.  It’s crazy.  NUTS.  And I can’t stand it.

I don’t remember always being this way.  Maybe shy and reserved, but never to this point.  Sometimes I swear I’m going crazy.  There will be days when I can’t stop the spinning.  My mind will just go and go and make up the craziest shit!  What is wrong with me?

I don’t always have this fear or anxiety.  It’s only sometimes.  And I’m trying to determine what the trigger could be.  But when it does happen, it almost impairs my ability to think or do anything rationally.  I cry and cry until I can’t cry anymore, but I don’t know why.  Why am I crying?  What is the big deal?  What is the very worst that can happen?  I think a lot of my fear is based on mine and my husband’s relationship right now.  I am extremely fearful that people are going to ask me how we are doing.  I don’t know the answer to that.  How can I possibly feel comfortable with his friends when I’m not entirely sure that I feel comfortable with us?  How can I be that fake, like everything is just peachy?  I’m not a fake person.  I wear my emotions on my sleeve.  If something is wrong, everyone knows.

I’m trying to figure out if my social anxieties are coming from mine and my husband’s issues or if our issues are stemming from my social anxieties.  This will be a good thing to talk about with my counselor next week.  I have yet to talk with her about my husband and I over fear of crying and looking like an idiot.  As much as I know that’s what she’s there for, I don’t want the pity.  I don’t want the “oh, honey, it’s OK!” crap.  I’m not that mushy pat-me-on-the-back kind of person.  I want to fix my sadness so I don’t have to cry.  I want to get to the bottom of my fears and anxieties so I can have fun like everyone else.  I hate that I’m doing this to myself and to my marriage.  My poor husband.  This is not his issue, it is mine.  But I have expected him to be there and to tell me I’m being crazy and to help me fix it.  It’s not his job.  He isn’t a professional.  He’s just my husband.  But he’s my husband who did make an oath to stick by me in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad.  This time is bad and I fear I am sick.

My mother also suffers from depression and anxiety disorders.  It was only a matter of time.  And it is proven to be hereditary.  Perfect.  Great.  Is there no control?  God help me.

A Full Plate

I was listening to Dr. Laura on the way home from work yesterday and an 11-year old girl called in, crying.  First off, why was an 11-year old girl calling Dr. Laura?  On the radio?  Anyway, she continued to softly cry while asking Dr. Laura if she should feel guilty and heartless for not wanting her “dad” in her life.  See, her “dad” never married her mom and hasn’t really been in the girl’s life.  The girl explained how she had lost two people who were very close to her recently, so she’s been feeling sad and has been calling her “dad” to find out if she can see him.  Of course, he tells her yes, she’ll get to see him very soon.  But to no avail, she still hasn’t seen him.  Another deadbeat “dad”.  So of course, she’s gotten to the point where she doesn’t want to see him at all now, even if she did have the opportunity.

This poor little girl, although crying, sounded way to grown up for her age.  Dr. Laura could sense this and told her, although she was only 11, that she was sure she would understand the concept she was about to explain to her.

 

When you go to a buffet, you always want to sample one of everything, but there just isn’t enough room on your plate, right?  There’s just way too much on that buffet to fit on your one plate.  “How do you fix this?”, she asked the girl.

“You can get another plate.”

Oh no, that’s another whole life.  You only get one plate.  So you take your one plate, but the whole time your aching for something else on that buffet.  You try to enjoy your meal, but all you can think about is what you don’t have.  Your plate can’t hold anymore.  But still, you are just aching for that something else.  Instead of aching for something you can’t or don’t have, take a look at what you do have on your plate.  Realize that your plate can only hold  so much and that if you pile too much on it, you’re not going to be able to enjoy any of it.

You don’t have a dad.  He is just a man who had sex with your mom.  That’s it.  A dad is someone who spends his entire life surrounded by his children, doing what he can to make sure they are happy.  He is not a dad.  He is just a man who had sex with your mom.  You’re never going to have a dad.  But you do have your mom, your family, your friends, neighbors, people from church.  All people who love you.  Look at those things to make your life complete.

When I heard this, all I could think about was me and my constant longing for a child.  I continuously tell myself that my life will never be complete without a child; I have to be a mother; it’s my calling.  But in all honesty, what if that’s not in God’s plan?  What if it’s not supposed to happen for me?  What if I’m supposed to do something else?  It’s not for me to say.  I have to find a way to be happy; fulfilled; complete; without the things I don’t or can’t have.  It was a real eye opener.  It made me realize that I am responsible for my own happiness.  There are so many passions that I have that I’ve never explored.  I want to travel, I want to get my Masters, I want to teach, I want to take pictures…SO MANY THINGS!  If bearing a child of my own is not in the plan, then SO BE IT!  If it gets to that point where I feel I just can’t handle it, I can always adopt.  There are so many reasons why I am in control of my happiness.  I’m just not in control of God’s plan.  God is.

There comes a point when I have to stop listening to what society says is right.  There comes a point when I have to realize that my expectations of what my life should be aren’t the Gospel.  They are just that.  Expectations.  “Women should have children before they are 30.”  “Women should always look good in a swim suit.”  “Women should get married by the time they are 25.”  “Women should have a career and have X amount of money in the bank before they get married.”  These are all society’s expectations of women.  Expectations that I gobbled right up and was disappointed when they didn’t happen they way I EXPECTED. 

From today (actually, last night) forward, I promise to give thanks to all the wonderful things and people I have in my life.  Even though things will not go as planned the majority of the time, oh well.  I will say thanks instead of dwelling on what isn’t.  I will try my hardest to realize I am different than others and that is not a bad thing.  “Viva la difference!” as my father-in-law says.  I will take responsibility for my own happiness.  That includes my appearance, my attitude, my demeanor.  I will remember that I am beautiful!  I do not have to conform to what society says.  I don’t look great in a swim suit, but that’s ok.  Neither do a lot of people, but that doesn’t stop them from going out and having a good time.  On the other hand, I will also take full responsibility for not looking good in a swim suit and fix it.  I won’t dwell on the fact that I’m considered overweight by society.  If I judge that I’m overweight, no one can fix that but me.  This morning, before work, I got on the treadmill for over 20 minutes.  Instead of sleeping and being lazy, I finally did something about it.  And I plan to get up every morning after that as well. 

I have a full plate.  I have so many things to be thankful for.  I have so many blessings in my life.

Counting My Blessings

I received a phone call from my mom last night, just after 10:30.  I said out loud to my husband, “I hate when she calls me this late.”  It almost always means there’s something wrong…

My grandmother has a small lump in her breast. 

At first, I was relieved.  Not as bad as I had expected.  But then all of a sudden, I was overcome with worry, fear, dread.  My grandmother had breast cancer 20 years ago and had to have a mastectomy.  Since then she has been cancer free.  In the summer of 2001, she had a heart attack.  Since then, she has been given a clean bill of health.  She’s 77 years old.  Why on earth would God want to take her now?  People her age don’t die from breast cancer.  They die from diabetes or heart attacks or strokes.  Not breast cancer.  (I’m sure I’m wrong; you just tend to hear about younger women dying from that disease.)

Breathe…

I don’t know anything yet.  My mom is supposed to call me today to let me when her operation is scheduled for.  The doctors won’t know if it’s cancerous until they remove the lump, but they want to remove it sooner than later.  I’m sure that’s standard protocol, but still.  To know they are suspicious makes me nervous.  I can’t even imagine how my grandmother must be feeling.  She is the strong one, doesn’t let things get her down.  She is positive, happy, confident.  She is my hero; the one person I look up to most in this world.

I don’t know when or why it happened, but somewhere along the way, my grandmother and I developed a very close and special relationship.  I come from a very large family with six uncles, one aunt, and a whole smorgasbord of cousins and second cousins.  My grandmother has 21 grandchildren (one has since passed away) and 20 great-grandchildren (with another one on the way).  I don’t know why she chose me, but I am one of the few grandchildren that holds a very close bond with her.  She would do anything for me and me for her.

In May of 2001, she had a heart attack on the very day that I was supposed to move in with her for the summer.  Although it was a very stressful and painful day for her and the rest of the family, I still managed to move in and spend much of the day at the hospital.  I was very fortunate to have my future husband by my side during all this.  He did the best he could to keep my spirits up and keep my mind off the issue at hand.  Both my grandparents loved my future husband very much.  Little did any of us know that we would be engaged the very next year.

I remember the very day we told my grandma that we were engaged.  I tried to make sure my ring finger was  front and center before we actually told her to see if she would notice on her own.  She didn’t.  So, we were all getting ready for dinner (much of the family was there for some reason or another, I forget why) and I remember saying, “Grandma, LOOK!”  She saw my ring, looked at me and was the happiest I swear I have ever seen her.  She was beaming, gave the both of us a huge hug and immediately said, “We have to use the good china!”  I think she told me she’s only ever used that china once before.  It was her mother’s.  I felt so special and so loved at that moment.  As much as I don’t like being the center of attention, that day I was ecstatic.  I sure loved my grandmother.  She certainly knew how to show someone appreciation and love.

As a child, I remember looking forward to the days I got to go to grandma’s.  We were there for every holiday, every special occasion, and probably every other weekend.  It was just a fun, loving place to be.  As much as some of my uncles drove me crazy, there was always someone there to have fun with and look up to.  I would have to say that being at my grandma’s house is probably one of my first and fondest memories.

I can’t imagine my life without my grandmother.  As much as I understand (and dread) the inevitable, I don’t let myself think about it.  I realize “life happens”, but that’s just one part of life I don’t know how I will deal with when it does happen.  Nothing will ever be the same.  Family functions will dwindle, moods will be saddened, and the family closeness that we all hold now will never again be as it was.  My grandmother is the glue that holds her family together.  She is the strength, the rock, the one solid piece that keeps us all close.  And as much as we all know how much it means to her that we stay close, I honestly don’t see it staying that way.  Everyone gets together because that’s how my grandma likes it.  It makes her happy that she always has someone coming or going.  Her house is never quiet, not for a minute.  People come to see her.  She lights up a room when she’s in it.  She makes you feel better when you’re around her.  She is just a happy free spirit who has given me so much. 

Lord, please keep my grandma safe and here with us.  Let her live a full, happy life with the people who need her most.  She wants to live another 20 years!  She DESERVES to live another 50!  Amen.

Madonna, Here I Come!

I am SO EXCITED!

I enrolled in school last week!  I am officially registered for classes at Madonna University.  My ultimate goal is to become a reading teacher (or “specialist”, as the department keeps telling me it’s called).  I’m starting out part time since I have to work full time.  They are concerned that since I’ve been out of school for six years that anything more than two classes could pose too much for me and my schedule.  As much as I want to go Gung Ho and go full time, I am taking the department’s advice and starting out slow, as I’m sure they know what they are talking about.  Me and control…we really need to part ways! 

I’m 33 years old and am having a hard time with the idea that I won’t be starting my career until I’m at least 36.  But then I think, “SO WHAT?”  At least I’m figuring out now what I want to do and not when I’m close to retirement, realizing that I’ve been unhappy in my job for over 30 years.  I’ve got to find the positive in every situation.  It just makes life easier.

People keep asking me, “What if your husband gets a job out of state?”  My answer is the same every time.  “My plan is to finish this semester here and if it means we have to live apart for few months, then so be it.  I can always transfer schools.”  My husband is really excited for me too.  I told him what people have been asking me and he agrees with me 100%.  My sister-in-law is also excited.  She is the one who told me that I can’t put my life on hold for someone if it makes me less of a person.  She’s right.  For so long, I’ve been putting everything I want to do on hold, in hopes that my husband will get this job and then I can start doing what I want.  But in that time, I haven’t done anything.  Nothing.  Zilch.  Nada.

And it shows.

I’ve gotten bored.  Sad.  Listless.  Lonely.  I miss me.

But all is well!  I’m going back to school September 4!  Yay for me!  Woo hoo!  Can you tell I’m excited?  Kiddies, here I come!  :)

Anyway, I wish, I WISH, I WISH I could go full time…but I’ll wait and see how one semester treats me.  I have one online course and one course I have to attend.  I certainly don’t want to burn out in the very first semester.

45 days and counting…

Fulfilled by Stimulation

I was raised by a single mom and grew up in a low income mobile home park with my younger brother.  My mother did the best she could to provide for us and worked a full time job at a fast food restaurant, so she was rarely home to cook us dinner or help us with our homework, as the hours were sporadic.  I was forced to take care of myself and my brother at a very young age.  I knew how to make a mean box of macaroni and cheese, that’s for sure!  My mother suffered from severe depression and anxiety disorder.  When she took her medication, things were fine for the most part.  However, I remember the bad times way more than the good.  When she would stop taking her medication, she would get so sad; she’d just cry and cry.  My mother had a fear of dying; the afterlife.  She had the hardest time coping with not knowing what happens to you when you die.  She didn’t deal well with only having 90 or so years to live.  And to this day, if she lets herself really think about it, she’ll sink back into that depression.  Needless to say, I was way too young to be dealing with things so beyond my years. 

In the years to come, my mother got better and needed her medication less and less.  She met my (now deceased) stepfather and had a baby, my half-sister.  Still being young and irresponsible, I was deemed the babysitter for the entire summer and on the weekends during the school year.  My entire teen years were taken up by this unwanted, resentful chore.  I couldn’t hang out with my friends if I had to babysit, which was everyday during the summer until my stepfather got home.  He was the landscaping guy for the fast food chain my mother worked for, so each property had a different amount of grass that needed to be cut and flowers that needed to be planted/watered/tended to.  I remember being so irritated when he had to work at one of the bigger stores.  That meant I would have to babysit until the very late afternoon.  It stunk.  When I mention it to my mother today, she thinks I’m crazy and that it wasn’t as bad as I make it out to be.  She thinks I’m blowing it out of proportion.  It was always okay for my mother to expect pity from others; “Woe is me” was her undisclosed motto.  But any time I tried to reap pity, her answer was always, “It must have just been a misunderstanding.”  She will never have any idea what she robbed from me and my one and only chance at childhood. 

Being stuck at home for all those years is what I believe led me to be such an introvert.  I had a lot of friends in junior high and high school; even a boyfriend or two, but since I could never hang out with them, I never had the opportunity to fully blossom into the person I longed so much to be.  I had so much potential.  And although I still did well in school, I feel that my lack of socialization held me back; kept me the reserved person I am today.  As much as I’m okay with being reserved, I wish so much that I could be more of an extrovert; more aggressive.  Much more independent.

When I talked with my counselor last Thursday, we talked a lot about me being an introvert and not having a lot of friends.  She asked me why I didn’t have a lot of friends and I told her I just don’t make friends well.  I’m a quiet, reserved person who doesn’t let many people into my “circle of trust.”  I told her that I had been thinking a lot lately about contacting an old friend from high school but I just haven’t done it yet.  She asked me why and I didn’t have an answer for her.  I don’t know why.  I’m clearly afraid of something.  Rejection?  Judgements?  Past hurts?  Differences?  Then she asked me about what I thought about making new friends.  I basically shut her out.  I told her no, I’m not very comfortable with that.  I feel I’m a lot like my mother in that area.  Worried I won’t say the right thing; worried I won’t have anything to say; worried that what I do say won’t be important; worried that I will stumble over my words; worried that I will sound and come across like a fool; a failure.  So I pull away.  I shut people out.  I never give people a true, fair chance to be my friend.  I mean, why would someone want to be friends with someone who has so many insecurities anyway?  Pathetic, isn’t it?

So this all leads me to the next thing she said to me.

I chose my husband because I wanted to be everything different than what my mother was.  I craved stimulation.  Physical, mental, and emotional.  Something I never received as a child.  All the things I wanted to do and wanted to be when I was younger, I so desperately needed as an adult, but didn’t know how to get.  When my husband came along, he was the answer.  He gave me those things.  But in turn, it lead me to seeking fulfillment in him and the things he could provide.  I began forgetting who I was.  He fell in love with someone who was fun, giddy, happy-go-lucky, not afraid to do new things, fairly confident, carefree, smart, cute…

Where is that person today?  Where did she go?

I’m going back to school in the fall.  I’m going to find my place in this crazy world.  I’m going to find something I believe in; something that gives me the stimulation I crave while not having to rely on someone else to give it to me.  I need to be happy first.  I need to love myself first.  I need to find out where I belong before I can expect anyone else to truly love me for ME.  After all, WHO AM I?

A Personal Evaluation - Part One

These are some things I like about myself:

1. I have a big heart.
2. I am very close to my family.
3. I am learning how to humble myself and take constructive criticism.
4. I am slowly learning to be a stronger person.
5. I’m not afraid to let my inner child show.
6. I’m a perfectionist.
7. My eyes.
8. My handwriting.
9. I’m a good listener.
10. I give good advice.
11. My morals.
12. I’m Catholic.
13. My new developing relationship with God.
14. My uncanny ability to find anything on the Internet…I love to research!
15. My English minor.
16. I’m a great cook.
17. My traditionalist point of view.
18. I’m a hopeless romantic.
19. I’m a bargain hunter.
20. I’m a Disney fanatic.
21. I love to travel.

These are some things I don’t like about myself:

1. I’m a procrastinator.
2. I’m impatient.
3. I let way too many things bother me.
4. I’m overly emotional.
5. I wear my emotions on my sleeve.
6. I’m a worrier.
7. I assume things.
8. I don’t welcome change easily.
9. I’m not the best person to be stuck with in bad traffic.
10. I’ve gained way to much weight over the past few years and haven’t done anything to fix it.
11. I need to feel accepted and loved.
12. I let what other people think get to me.
13. I have a hard time making my own decisions.
14. My inability to be an independent woman.
15. I’m afraid of being alone.
16. I have low self-esteem and self-confidence.
17. I don’t have a hobby.
18. I have very few friends.
19. I lack motivation.
20. I get jealous very easily.
21. I envy others.
22. I’m selfish.
23. I don’t save money.
24. My hair - it takes way too long to “do” every day.
25. I do way too much negative self-talk.
26. I’m afraid of the water.
27. I’m afraid of bugs.
28. I talk too fast and trip over my words.
29. My teeth.
30. Stretchmarks.
31. I have a difficult time organizing my thoughts, let alone relaying them to someone.
32. My expectations of people are way too high.
33. I’m lazy.
34. I don’t like housework.
35. I eat too much junk food.
36. I take things way too personally.
37. I want to be in control, all the time.
38. I don’t have children.
39. I let others determine how I feel instead of owning up to and controlling my own feelings.
40. If a difficult situation arises, I shut down and forget how to to deal with it rationally.
41. I feel like a failure a lot of the time.
42. I have a negative outlook on a lot of things.
43. I get anxious very easily.
44. I let my thoughts spin out of control.
45. I am scared.

 

I HATE MY JOB!

I hate my job; more than anything else, I hate my department and the people I report to.  I choose not to call them managers because they severely lack any sort of managerial skills, except, of course, ridiculing you for anything that is not being done perfectly.  God forbid they ever say “good job”.  Arghhh…

I have been working for a creative/Internet agency for two and half years.  I have yet to grow within the company.  We have these things called Individual Development Plans (IDPs) that are supposed to assist the people you report to with what your goals are and what you want your future plans to be within the company.  I have to chuckle.  Career Development?  Individual Development Plans?  Are you kidding?  The person I report to could honestly care less if I grow with the company.  He is simply concerned with his own needs and doesn’t want to take the time to train anyone else on my position.  So he’s content with me staying right here.

LUCKY ME.

This year, we hired a new Director of Operations, who has offered to pose as everyone’s functional manager, which in turn means she will be going over my IDP with me.  I’m not 100% sure how I feel about this yet.  On one hand, she is really nice and very receptive to my concerns about the person I report to.  She has advised me to come to her anytime I need to, that her door is always open and her office is “safe” for venting.  She also informed me that she is going to make it so I report to her by July.  That would be such a relief (I will explain why later).  On the other hand, the person I report to informed me that I am NOT to go to her with any of my concerns, that I need to filter them through him and another “lead” in my department.  I’m not entirely sure if he knows she told me to come to her, but regardless, it worries me a bit if I do decide to go to her.  She is his boss.  She trumps whatever he says.  But by me disobeying him, will it make my time here even worse?  By defying his authority, has it shown her that I can’t follow direction?  It’s a very confusing, grey issue.  My head is telling me to just sit tight and see what July brings.  If he is “released” from being the person I report to, then hopefully things will get better and I will be “allowed” to grow with in the company.  Considering that the new Director of Operations told me she was “going to give me a chance” and that she “doesn’t think anyone has before”, it makes me believe (and hope) that I will making a move out of this position in the near future.  Keep your fingers crossed.

Regarding the person I report to and why I hope he is released from his duties.  He is a cock.  He is a downright, dirty, no good, waste of space who calls himself my manager.  WHATEVER.  I know children who could manage people better than him.  He is not flexible, he’s demanding, he only cares about himself, if one thing goes awry, he takes that one thing into account versus all the great things I have done, he’s a gossip, he’s nosy, he thinks he has more power than what he actually does.  I hate him.  I have hated him since I started here; he’s just gotten worse because the person he used to report to kept him in check.  Now that he is gone, the person I report to has taken his so-called power and used it against me.  Hence the reason I say he has no managerial skills whatsoever.  He’s a thorn in my side; a pain in my ass.  The very day my husband gets a great job, I am putting in my notice.  I cannot wait to tell him what I really think of him, although I’m sure he knows.  How could he not?  My attitude screams, “I HATE YOU!”

My reason for wanting to quit my job is not solely based around the person I report to, however.  I also want to go back to school to get my elementary teaching degree, something I should have done years ago.  I would not be able to do that if I worked here, as I stated previously, the person I report to is NOT flexible in the least.  He’d find a way to have me fired.  Trust me.  So in the mean time, I have to patiently wait. 

But I’m okay with that. 

I have found in the past month or so, I have become a much happier and patient person outside of work.  I have very slowly learned how to leave work at work and not let it affect my personal life.  Of course there are days when it just rears its ugly head at home, but for the most part, I’m pretty happy with the way my life has been going.  I have discovered how to let a lot of trivial, so NOT important things go, and focus more on the things that make life worth living.

Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff; Cherish it!

I was talking with a friend of mine the other day at work about “man problems” and how she just doesn’t understand why he reacts to her the way he does sometimes.  She told me how he never wants to “keep talking” about an issue; once it’s been discussed, he wants it to be over and done with.  She explained to me how that just doesn’t work for her, that she needs closure in order to feel like the conversation/issue has been resolved.  She also went on to say that he gets frustrated with her when she won’t make a decision about something; like whether to go see a movie or go play poker at her brother’s house.  She also stressed that she doesn’t understand why he won’t come watch her bowl on her league, claiming that she always goes to watch him play whatever it is he plays (sorry, I forget which sport).

The point is, I found myself defending him, something I don’t think I would’ve ever done, let alone known how to do, before I started reading this book, The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands.  I immediately told her to run out and buy it, even though he isn’t her husband.  It’s the same for any man.  All men need the same things, have the same feelings, want the same ending.  They really are simple creatures with big hearts.

This book taught me in the very first paragraph that I am a selfish.  I have unknowingly been putting my needs first for way too long.  I haven’t taken into account my husband’s needs or all of the things he has done for me over the years.  He has had to put up with a lot of unnecessary crap that I feel overwhelmingly guilty about.  Hindsight’s 20/20, right?  Well, I wish it were just that simple.  Somewhere along the way, our marriage began to struggle, which I’m sure is the direct result of my lack of appreciation and unwillingness to admit fault.  Everything I did was right; everything he did was wrong or not good enough.  My expectations of my husband were preposterous when I look back now.  However, at the time, they were merely stepping stones; stepping stones that, in my mind, were surely going to lead to perfection;  something I must have already achieved since I had no problem directing him how to get there.  Ugh.  How embarrassing.

However, I am proud to say that I have come a long way in the past year or so.  I have taken off my blinders and learned how to humble myself.  I’m certainly no pro, but I am definitely learning from my mistakes and making a great deal of progress.  Sometimes I surprise myself with the amount of strength I harbor.  Of course I will always have those days where I feel like it’s not worth it and I just want to give up and take the easy road.  But luckily, those days are few and far between. 

My husband does so many things for me; things that are so simple, so small, but so meaningful.  Since he is out of work right now, he has the option to stay in bed and sleep in every day.  But he doesn’t.  He chooses to get up and make my coffee, wash out my water bottle and fill it with cold water, pour my cereal in a baggie, make sure my phone is in my purse, and if I remind him, he will get my lunch ready.  Those are little things, but they are little things that show me he loves me.  When I’m at work, he meticulously works on his portfolio, trying every possible way to improve what he’s already worked so hard to do.  All the while, he finds time to work out, shower, do the dishes, reply to my (not-so-important) emails, apply for jobs, and go to the store if I need him to.  All without complaint. 

So what that he leaves his shoes in the hallway? I leave mine under the coffee table.  So what that he doesn’t put things away when he’s done with them? I keep coupons laying around that I almost never use.  Talk about clutter!  He enjoys cleaning up; I don’t.  How could I possibly find fault in trivial things that just don’t matter?  So for the most part, I don’t anymore.  I try really hard to let those kinds of things just roll off my back and appreciate the things that he does do.  All he wants is to make me happy.  All he wants is to be a good husband, to be my hero.  I just wish it didn’t take me so long to realize.  I pray that it’s not too late.

Make the World Go Away

Make the World Go Away - Eddy Arnold (Tribute by Carrie Underwood and Brad Paisley)

Make the world go away
And get it off my shoulders
Say the things you used to say
And make the world go away

Do you remember when you loved me
Before the world took me astray
If you do then forgive me
And make the world go away

I’m sorry if I hurt you
I’ll make it up - day by day
Just say you love me like you used to
And make the world go away

 

I was watching this moving performance last night on the ACM Awards while feeling pretty blue about mine and my husband’s relationship.  I knew he was touched by it too because he pulled me close to him and just held me as I cried.  I think this song sums up the way I feel many days; and him too I suppose.  Although we don’t have kids, there are still many outside stressors that seem to pull us further and further apart every day.  There are so many things that just have to take priority over our struggling relationship.  But to me, those very priorities are the things tearing us apart.  Unfortunately, my husband hasn’t grasped how to balance the two yet; and I haven’t figured out how to help him, as he doesn’t welcome my help very often.

So this morning, my feelings of sadness were still lingering.  I assume that’s why I chewed my husband out for working out for an hour, blaming him for making me feel like the fat wife, as I left the house crying.  We all know that the only person responsible for me being a fat wife is me.  Obviously, my blow up was an accumulation of many things; me being unhappy with my appearance but having not motivation to fix it, me needing to feel important and needed, me craving intimacy, my extreme boredom, etc.  They’re just more stressors that play a part in this big ugly mess.  A big ugly mess that I don’t want to deal with anymore. 

My counselor stressed to me that one thing a husband does that he thinks makes his wife feel loved is being a good provider; having a good job that pays well.  I try to tell myself that; that’s why he has been so preoccupied; so distant.  Unfortunately, feeding my brain positive thoughts doesn’t seem to help.  It just makes my mind spin further out of control.  I keep praying for an offer to come in from this company in Tulsa; then it will be just the two of us and we’ll be able to figure everything out without constant interruptions from “the world” outside.  But is that really going to help?  Is that really the answer?  In all reality, it’s not going to change the fact that my husband shies away from arguments or difficult discussions.  It won’t change the fact that I still have the same needs as a wife; as a woman.  However, I keep relying on it.  Hoping it will be the change we need.  Praying it will the one thing that gets us out of this rut.  I know he’s bummed out about a lot of things right now; not being able to find a job in particular.  So in my head, I assume that when he finds a job, everything will be miraculously fixed; or at least on the path to being fixed.

And then there are our families.  My husband’s father who constantly asks him if he’s heard back from the job in Tulsa yet.  Constantly.  Every day.  My husband’s mother who has become completely sucked in by her church and forgets she has a family somewhere.  My mother who thinks when I get upset, I’m being unreasonable, exaggerating, or it’s just a big misunderstanding.  As much as I know they all mean well and are doing the best job they know how, they don’t realize the stress they are placing on their children.  Sometimes we just need them to be our parents and give us advice; help us through these hard times.  Tell us what to do!  And sometimes, we just need them to leave us alone.  Don’t nag; don’t criticize; don’t judge.  Just let us be… 

Oh, make the world go away…