Oh boy. H is feeling down on himself again, because he's picking me apart to the point that it's getting on my nerves. He argues with everything I say and will not listen to reason. Since there's no point in talking to him, I'd just as soon not bother continuing the argument, but he can't let it go. That's the point at which I pretty much resort to telling him not so nicely to just shut up and think... yeah... that works.
Another dilemna that has been on my mind lately came bubbling out during one such argument today. I've been wrangling around how to talk to him about this, but there's no avoiding it now. The cat's out of the bag that I'm not so sure I believe him when he talks about the job he's going to get... and yes, it peeves me a bit too.
Background I put my first husband through college. He always had some excuse not to be working... sometimes good reasons, sometimes worthless reasons, but I finally accepted that he probably was never going to be a primary source of income for us. Then he died. A few years later I met my H.
H is retired with a pension, but he's been telling me since we first met that he plans to take a job. First he decided to go to school and finish his bachelor's degree, during which time he was going to get certifications and take a part time job. Then he couldn't because his classes were during the day, so he switched to nights. Then he couldn't because he was in class at night and wanted to use the days to work on his certifications. Then we were seperated and I'm not sure what happened then. Then he graduated, and still hadn't finished his certifications. Then he still needed to finish the certifications, then it was the certifications and then it was the certifications. He finally finished the certifications, and then he couldn't start job hunting because of the holidays. Then he started job hunting, but only for a narrow window of jobs in a narrow industry in a narrow location in a narrow field. That is pretty much how he has spent the last year.
I've asked him many times if he really is planning on doing this job thing or if he's just blowing smoke. I wouldn't have minded if it was just talk, because I would have planned accordingly, but he keeps insisting (angrily even) that he is going to work.
I've long supposed that he was not going to be any help to me financially, though there are days when I dream about him paying off his debts and setting aside some money for retirement or a new house, etc. I just keep rolling along paying my bills and whittling down my own debt. H doesn't contribute to the mortgage or utilities, though he usually buys the groceries, dinners out and gas for the cars, etc. He also does a lot of work around the house, which I will miss sorely if he ever does get a job.
The Dilemna H is incredibly sensitive (like most men I suppose) about being the provider. He also loves nothing better than to wallow in his own self-loathing. The more he loathes himself, the uglier his mood gets, the less he does and the more he loathes himself. The last thing he needs is for me to jump on his case about it. Then again, I don't think that the five years of sitting by pretending this is all cool has accomplished much either.
H is continually in the mode of "we shouldn't do that until" he gets a job. So today, we're talking about an awful home repair project we need to do and aren't sure we can afford to hire out. We've had a hole in our bedroom ceiling for four years, a bathroom light fixture lying on the floor for six months, the front porch torn to pieces for three months and a borderline roof for two years. I proposed that I get a cash out refinancing on the house to pay for the repairs so it will be habitable in the next few years. H put his foot down and started talking about "when the day comes that we are ready to move to a bigger place." WTF??? I finally told him that if the current state of things continues (as it has for the past five years) there is no new house on the horizon and that we should make the place habitable. Ooops! He took it pretty hard, as I thought he might.
Nonetheless, I am so tired of waiting for this "promised" life of his to begin. If I'm going to live there I want to fix the place up and make it my home. Well I've gotta go now. I'm sure he'll want to talk more about this tonight. Egad! -- z
Ciao, tutti! I'm going to start out by complimenting my H for doing a good job of making sure we have the conversations we normally put off. No, we actually didn't have a convo about him working. For some reason he's calmed down a little since then, though I still think we ought to revisit the issue. Nonetheless, there are many other things going on that are a bit more pressing. First is that my family has put a lot of pressure on us to agree to a New Year's eve birthday party for my stb 80-year old father that is going to be a financial hardship on us. I have been of the inclination to just suck it up and not make waves, which is my role in the family. Instead of giving in, H has grown increasingly vocal against the plan. Deposit day is approaching, so I've got to figure out how to handle the sitch. Not an easy one, but despite my cowardice in the face of my family, I think I'm going to have to take a stand with H on this one. I'm just trying to figure out how, and am hoping the plan derails on its own.
An even more imminent matter arose with the hurricane in the gulf coast states. H is, like most people, plugged into what is going on there. He called the Red Cross to volunteer. (Bless his thickheaded, machismo. He didn't even bother to talk to me about until afterwards.) Anyway, they put him on a waiting list to go. The day that happened, I had my head in the attic, when H yells from the living room (two rooms away) that he wants to know what I think about him going to help with hurricane relief. I yelled back that I would talk to him when I got out of the attic. He wanted to know why. I told him that I didn't think it was the kind of talk to have while yelling through the ceiling. When I came back down, H was back on topic. (Yeah, for H.) True to my word I sat down and told him what I think, which is that I will miss him, that I learned from our seperation that there are advantages to having my own space, and that I know he gets a lot out of helping other people so I believe he will be happier for having had the experience. He agreed. Hallelujah! I was half expecting him to try to derail his own plan with negative talk, but he didn't. I'll say it again, Hallelujah!
In the midst of all of this we've been talking about making a trip out to Kentucky to visit some new friends. We decided last night to buy the tickets, though I insisted that we buy a refundable ticket for H just in case he got deployed. This morning, the Red Cross announced they were needing more volunteers, so I think I'll be going to Kentucky on my own. H wondered if he should put off the Red Cross for the trip, but I think neiher of us believes that's the right thing to do. Personally, I think he'll find three weeks of helping people in primitive conditions to be much more rewarding than three days of horseback riding in the Cumberlands.
Also on the subject of helping people... H's "girlfriend", S, is coming back into town in a few weeks. I call her girlfriend, because it ticks off my H. She's too flakey (flakier than me) for H, but he's devoted to being her knight in shining armor. I decided a long time ago that even though I like her well enough, her dependence upon my H is really annoying. Sure it was funny the first time he went over to help her with a little computer problem and ended taking 13 hours, because it was a much bigger problem than she actually indicated.
So it goes when helping "S." He went to help her move two years ago. He planned on two days. It took six days, around the clock. He swore he'd never get roped into that again. So now she's coming back to get the rest of her stuff, and the plan has already changed from a one day to a three day move.
She's obviously better friends with H, though I've known her much longer. During my separation from H, she never called me once or returned an e-mail in two years, but she had plenty of time to talk to H about her love life and computer problems. I don't think there is anything emotional going on between the two of them other than her needing someone to help her with her computer and him getting a thrill out of being the one to save the day without actually being responsible for her. Whatever we are mutually relieved that I will be working when she gets into town, so he doesn't have to hear about it and I don't have to think about it.
Hey Z---Glad to see you're still around and doing well!I have to say you are a better person than me...I don't know if I would be as patient with this ff...but, maybe that just shows how not trusting I really am!
Well, I can't say that things are going so great. Right now, my attitude stinks. It pretty much amounts to me being depressed... even though I'm still on anti-depressants and supposed to go off at the end of this month. Seems like a bad idea at this point.
I am about as unmotivated and prickly as can be. H in his ever supportive way, just criticizes me for grousing. Gee that makes me feel much better, to hear that it's not really so frustrating, it's just me. Even if it's true, I'd like a little sympathy for putting up with a boss who wants me to read his mind, juggling the demands of Italian club members who think that think they are more important than anyone else in the club, and being bored out of my mind all day for the sake of paying the mortgage. Plus it seems like there is a dirth of civility going around everywhere lately.
Besides being shouted at twice this week by a crazy Argentinian woman, who thinks that she can give me orders and I can carry them out without regard to the other 130 members of our Italian group; I've been dealing with some very ungrateful people at work. I've spent three days trying to find hotel rooms and cars for people traveling to Louisiana, only to hear whining "I don't like bed and breakfasts," "I don't want to share a bathroom," and "I don't want to drive an hour to get to Lafayette every day." (No kidding. I'm sure the people in shelters would like turn down service and jacuzzi tubs, but that ain't happening either.)
It's as though these people don't realize that we're sending them into place where there is a housing and transportation shortage. When I talk to the hoteliers in Louisiana, they are telling me stories of guests sleeping on floors, sofas and air mattresses; yet I'm managing to get my people rooms with beds and access to running water. When I get them a room they complain, "... BUT I NEED A CAR!" When I get them a car they complain, "... BUT I NEED A ROOM!" They are failing to realize that getting either one at this point is no easy feat. Bless the woman who actually sat on the phone and talked to me about it for a while today. She was griping about sharing a bathroom until I told her she'd be taking over a room in a bed and breakfast where a search and rescue team had been sleeping on the floors for the past two weeks; and the room came available because they were going to move to a tent city in New Orleans. She said, "Oh... I take back what I said about sharing a bathroom. I don't mind now." A glimmer of light in this otherwise ungracious world.
I can't wait to climb into bed tonight, but I'm not looking forward to the waking up part tomorrow.
I'm starting to get my first lucid thoughts in a week, and I'm angry at my H. I've been having problems with my sinuses forever and this past week, I had surgery to correct it. I knew in my heart that my husband could not handle me being laid up for any longer than a day, but he went on about how he needed to be the one to take care of me and I convinced myself that I really wouldn't be out of commission more than a couple of days. of course he's convinced that everyone thinks he won't take care of me. He was ticked that my father was thinking about coming to see me... surely that couldn't be because my father loves me... it had to be because my father didn't trust him. When my father decided not to come was when my husband decided to unload that it was just typical of my father not to care about me. Gee... what a rosy picture!
Then of course, there was a mixup in the waiting room, which had me waiting a whole five minutes to see my husband (at least five minutes in my drug induced stupor). I'm lying there half-conscious in recovery while my husband is interrogating the nurses about what time they called for him and who said he wasn't in the waiting room. Two days later he was still carrying on about it; and I've never once said more on the subject than "I wasn't worried. I knew you would be there." That being the case, I don't know why he needs to prove that he was there.
After two days of me wandering around the house half-conscious he reached the end of his caretaking patience; and started yelling at me about how I put the trash in the garbage bag and how the counters are covered with stuff. (There were three glasses and six spoons in the sink.) From there he went on about the lights I leave on, and started a laundry list of other things he's yet to tell me about. He's seathing with resentment, and I couldn't even remember from moment to moment why I got off of the couch. He got mad when I argued with him about the trash, so I told him he might get better satisfaction out of kicking one of the dogs. He got mad when our first attempt at me tracking my own pills, didn't go so well. (I forgot thirty minuts later if I had taken them or not.) He's so full of baloney too. I've been doing the dishes, washing laundry, feeding the dogs breakfast, and even managing to pick up my shoes in between naps, but god forbid I leave the kitchen light on.
So this morning I woke up with the first clear thoughts in days and the first thing that comes to my mind is that I am tired of tripping over the trash bags he leaves in the dining room. Here's the cycle: 1) I overfill the trash can in the kitchen. If left to my own devices, I will take the garbage out about twice a week, and pick up anything that spills out of the trash can when I take care of the garbage. 2) H has a much lower tolerance for the trash can being filled, so he takes the bag out of the trash. 3) The trash bags are actually bigger than the trash can, so he sets the bags in the dining room to use until it is actually full. 4) In the dining room it is both out of the way of being useful and in the way of where I walk when I leave the kitchen. 5) Instead of letting this annoy me. I ignore it, which means that I forget the thing is there resulting in my using the empty trash can that is under the sink and tripping over the filthy bag that is in the middle of the dining room door. 6) He complains about my using the empty trash under the sink and dislodging trash from the bag that I trip over. (It's so obvious to see how this is all my fault.) 7) If I try to take it out, he raises hell about how he was going to do it when it was full. Eventually he takes out the trash, when it is full to his specifications. 8) I ignore him even more.
Now, I'm really, really mad that I've been yelled at for four days over picky things when I've been wandering around like a zombie. I really shouldn't have to deal with that frustration. I'm really ticked off that I tripped over TWO trash bags in my dining room this morning as I made my way to sleep on the sofa where I could elevate my head. Hopefully, just writing this down will help me keep my cool. I did take some action on the issue, and there will probably be hell to pay when H realizes that I took out his precious trash bags. One of them was not full.
I am probably one of the least patient nurturers on the planet myself. After a few days of that kind of responsibility I start getting pretty edgy, and if things don't go well, I can even hit resentment mode. I think that's a horrible weakness on my part, and I don't like seeing it in my H either. In fact, it reinforces that I can't count on him, which is something I think he really fears about himself. Sometimes I think that he makes his own mythology. Here is this capable, intelligent man who has been job hunting for five years. He says he's a loser, and I think he just doesn't want a job. More than anything I think he doesn't want me to depend on him.
Well looks like time to go wake him up. Ciao, tutti! -- Sheila
Hope you're feeling better soon. Maybe things will look up as you start to feel better again.
My H was a great caretaker after I had surgery a few years ago, before our troubles escalated so much. Hhmm, wonder if I could get a doctor to write a prescription for H to take care of me.
Live your life while you are still living. Riding the trail less traveled.
Thanks for the well wishes. You know some people have kids, we have dogs...
We had a dog emergency tonight. The boys are afraid of smoke, so they are just beside themselves when H starts grilling. H had them locked inside, but when dinner started Rocket came sneaking into the living room. He wouldn't come when called and H caught him trying to slip behind the couch. As soon as H picked him up, Rocket turned into a fountain. He peed as H ran with him all the way back the kitchen. Then H dropped him on his bed, where he finished the job... He made a huge puddle in the middle of his bed and then sat in it shaking with terror. The poor guy has never had the gift of letting us know when he needed to go out, but with the smoke he probably didn't want to go out either. With all of the subsequent yelling and carrying on, the poor guy just couldn't win either way. It took hours to get him calmed down again, but he is now clean, dry and reassured that H still loves him. Some days I wish I were a dog.
