Torn, Suspended, But Still Grateful

      I know everyone leads a double life, including me. No, I don’t mean we are all secret agents or doing something naughty on the sly (although it can include that, but in my case, no).

      For me, and I suspect most folks, normal, everyday pedestrian life sometimes means putting on and taking off masks for different roles, ambivalence, damned-if-you-do/damned-if-you don’t decisions and good news/bad news deliveries (sometimes I’d like to cancel my subscription). My life this past few months has been positively full of events that leave me torn between despair and giddy delight, but ultimately grateful when I can slow down and smell the roses. No, I’m not furiously riding the bipolar seesaw. This is real life. And sometimes it’s bittersweet. We all have days like these, so I share.

      Ah, where to begin. Bad news first? I like to receive the bad first because it gives me something to look forward to after I receive it.

So, in no particular order here’s the bad—the problems between Squash and I came to a head and we are both struggling, trying to sort it out, work our jobs, live our lives and not crumple under the stress; there's the news of suicide of a former classmate and mother to two young children; my closest friend’s continued unemployment and childlessness; my mother’s perpetual overworked, overtired exhaustion; and finding out about this recently (was I asleep?).

      Oh, and then there’s this: My boss has picked up on my boredom with the job and dislike of him, and recently asked me to either resign or be let go. I picked resignation. Easy come, easy go. Ah yes, I just remembered one more black mark. I talked with my Dad’s case worker, he’s fasting on and off to protest the fact that some administrator at his facility has decided that all inmates clients will no longer have access to nicotine or caffeine after Nov. 15 for health reasons. Are you f***in’ kiddin me? He’s lucky to be alive; According to stats he should have already been killed by his disease (violent interaction, suicide, malnutrition, etc.). Longevity and optimal physical health AIN’T his problem, quality of his mental/emotional/social life is. And further, why are they ignoring the scientific studies that demonstrate that paranoid schizophrenics actually self-medicate with coffee and cigarettes? It actually helps him remain calm and even keel. Oy vey, it’s the mother of all stupid decisions, in my opinion. While they are at it, why not put them all on a macrobiotic diet and get them in yoga and see if that helps. Sheesh. I am so powerless when it comes to helping him. A source of eternal sadness/frustration.

      Whew. Time for some good news, not in order of importance. Squash got a higher paying job that has possibilities for eventual advancement, so it takes some of the breadwinner pressure off of me, after 10, count em Dano, ten l—o—n—g years. Sweet relief. My Mom made homemade enchiladas and a cake last week for Squash’s birthday, and the delicious meal lasted so long we didn’t have to cook for three days. God love her. And to top things off, a few weeks back, we just met this fabulous couple who also have a “new” baby and they live in our neighborhood. They brought us dinner on Sunday, the day of our Lord, because we were supposed to go to their house and hang out, but sadly the three of us had colds. So the amazing wife/mom/worker bee/neighbor/friend drove to us and brought us homemade cheese manicotti, mixed green salad with fruit and nuts, a pungent herb/tomato salad, and bread. I nearly fell down and wept when she pulled out the bottle of Newman’s vinaigrette dressing, the gesture was so far above and beyond, it’s like she was saying, “here’s the finishing touch and I want you to enjoy this meal in its entirety.” It was a moment of transcendence, I felt connected to the divine. How sweet was that? The meal contained enough garlic and onion (we love) to kick our colds to the curb. Now people, that’s what I call a miracle!

      Another newer friend who wanted a second child is pregnant, and I am so thrilled for them. She and I went walking at our local YMCA over the weekend; she made healthy apple/raisin muffins, which we had with tea after our slow walk around the track. She seems to sense something is up between Squash and I (he wasn’t there); but she didn’t ask, and moreover, she repeated her offer to let us babysit her year-and-a half-old son, which touched me immeasurably. Awhile back, she and her husband watched our son one Saturday so we could get out (we went to a movie) and the deal was we would do the same in return for them, but that was months ago and I thought the offer/idea had died, I though she could read into our problems and had changed her mind because of competency or safety reasons. Yeah, I feel like a bit of a mom-reject at the moment, but she has helped restore my faith.

      My lower back pain is gone. I can still get a bit sore when I overdo it lifting Genghis or gardening, but it's nothing compared with the disabling pain I had before. And I contribute my healing to the power of positive thinking, or visualizing success. Yep, dorky as it sounds, my pain was mostly psychosomatic, which basically means, in my head. I read this book, and the pain was gone, I kid you not. I also think shining a spotlight on the problems of our marriage made me acknowledge the ways in which I needed attention, where I needed help, and prevented by brain from redirecting my emotional pain to my body. The chiropractor was nice, the hands on attention was sorely needed and the adjustments felt great, but I don't think that's what healed me.

      We planted seeds in our garden. And they are growing! Perhaps the most productive thing Squash and I have done together as of late. We are waiting on red clover and rye. A cover crop. The idea is to turn over the plants after they have died and till them into the soil in order to add more nutrients back into the soil. Is that a metaphor for marriage? Are we supposed to take the old, dead things that are no longer useful, such as “you always,” or “you never,” and till them under and work them into the mix and plant new seeds?

      My voice is coming back. I'm not normally shy at all, but over the past few years I have become increasingly nervous when speaking publicly. For some reason, after the birth of Genghis, I've found my voice. At a recent board meeting, I had no trouble standing up and sayin' my part loud and proud. In fact, it felt kinda good.

      OK, what about the gray areas? Where it feels like I am trapped immobile between two worlds, like a fly in the web? The most immediate issue is what type of part-time job do I pick (we still need me to bring in some income)? If it’s childcare, the pay is low, and in most daycares, I’ve still got to pony up for childcare expenses while I’m working. Plus, I’ve never done that type of work on a full-time basis. Will it drive me batty and leave me with no energy/interest in playing with my son? It’s so far from my education and experience, would I be decent at it? Should I just nanny in my home, or would that be a different kind of nightmare? And I just applied for this job that does directly relate to my education, training, and experience. The salary is 55K, and they are very interested in me. But it would be full time, and long hours, something I said I did not want to do while Genghis was young. One thing I am not torn about: I absolutely don’t want to be the sole breadwinner while Squash is a stay-at-home dad. For many reasons, the biggest being: It’s my turn to take a break from the career track, it’s his turn to jump on.

      So I feel like I’m going through a midlife crisis of “what do I want to be/do while Genghis grows up?” There are so few quality part-time positions for women and men, I may not get many choices (Would you like paper or plastic with that m’am? It doesn’t really matter because both are hard on the environment. Ha ha ha ha).

      Struggling through couples’ therapy is no fun. I wish we were newly coupled and wildly in love instead of 10 years later and one baby into this and standing at a crossroads with no signposts. Some days it feels like we are getting directions from the dumb scarecrow, and there is no true north, south, east or west. For various reasons we are at this moment, this place, in this situation: fear, complacency, blindness, routine, financial stress, lack of good modeling, and again fear. We are in completely uncharted territory with what feels like land mines in every direction. We hide it well, you know, fake it till you make it; try to find your inner compass, do the work, and in the meantime wear the masks. Don’t let people know that this is making you feel fragile, fragile, fragile.

      Add to that a planned road trip with a baby to see all my relatives in the Midwest, and you’ve got a recipe for: Fun! At least I can Mapquest this destination and get a blueprint. I’ll be digging out my copy of Swallow’s Nest for the trip.

      This is from that book. This is for Julie. I hope you are at peace and I will not forget to be grateful.

How lovely are all the places of your dwelling, El Shaddai!
My soul faints with longing for the beauty of Your presence.
My whole being shouts for joy to You, O Living God!
even the sparrow finds a home in Your presence, and the swallow
finds a place to build a nest for herself, where she may also lay her young
--on your very altars, El Shaddai!

(Ps: 84:1-4)

Edited to add: I prefer the real world over the virtual any day. Real friends, real coffee, real adventures, real live human interactions. But every now and then the blogosphere provides a much needed connection with someone who is or has experienced what I have, and I don't feel so alone. Thanks, Notes to Self, for writing this.