Sometimes I hate being me. I hate mercurial moods that act like some kind of philosophical trapeze artist out of control. Yesterday morning saw cynicism and kind of a mouthy attitude (o the things I said to a couple of friends…thankfully they know me well and took it with grace, actually dished some back which I deserved) afternoon saw a decided lack of empathy toward a son who is having a little trouble adjusting to living on his own (slob roommates being the biggest problem) and by evening I was in full-on Meltdown Mode, angry with Terry’s work situation, his employers, his working 3rd shift, and our inability (at the moment) to get out of it all and go somewhere else.
If only we could just LEAVE. There is work elsewhere, but the housing market in Statesboro is very soft, and selling this place could take a year or more. Which would mean I would stay here with #4 while Terry worked elsewhere and we would see each other rarely. That’s been done before, with unhappy results. Of course, at that time I had 3 teenaged boys in the house, 2 of whom were deep in the throes of Adolescent Rebellion. This time, if it happened now, I would have 1 sweet tempered 11 year old and a church full of nosy-parkers who would be very willing to help out. Nonetheless, it is not an ideal situation. So for the time being, we are both feeling quite trapped. Terry hates his job…no let me correct that. He really loves his job. He hates the people (with a deep, dark, and unforgiving hatred….poisonous and vile) he works for.
Hate is a poison to the soul. I am feeling it toward his employers as well. It’s miserable, all consuming, and eats away at our peace of mind. Last night my meltdown involved all sorts of wailing and gnashing of teeth and Lord I felt childish. The last thing Terry needs right now is a guilt trip added to his already tense situation. It’s just that…a while back we had this discussion. See, I tend to hold things in. When I am unhappy about something, I plaster on a happy face, start drinking a little too much, and pretend All Is Well, because Terry works *very* hard to provide us with a comfortable life, and I was raised that the woman of the house is supposed to keep happy and not lay a pile on the husband, because he already has a load to carry what with providing and all. (OK I know the drill, marriage is a partnership and if someone is unhappy blahblah I know I know…) So I have habitually kept discontent inside. However, occasionally it spills out in the form of Silent Treatments and such, so he knows I am unhappy but I won’t tell him why. I got this long
lecture..ok I don’t know what to call it, but was told it’s ok to spill it when unhappiness takes hold.
So I did. Last night. I laid it all out there. And felt guilty afterward. Oh yes, he reassured me that those feelings were entirely justified, that there was nothing said that he wasn’t also feeling, that all that stuff was logical and reasonable given the current situation, but the feelings of guilt for adding to his burden were heavy, and still are.
I hate feeling trapped. I don’t hate Statesboro. The town is finally starting to grow on me a little. Having friends help, finding a small church with a close-knit congregation helps. But Terry having to work in a place he despises isn’t worth all that. Being stuck with a house (which is a fine house, but I am not deeply attached to it. It’s JUST A HOUSE) in a market that says it’ probably won’t sell is hard. The thing is, there *is* a place he could go to work. There is a plcae that would hire him TOMORROW, THIS AFTERNOON, RIGHT NOW, if we were able to pick up and move. Which we aren’t. Unless we were willing to be separated for an unknown amount of time. Which we aren’t. Yes, I am mentally stable for now…but the last time we lived apart (about 5 months) was arduous and my mental status took a beating. He doesn’t want to risk that again, nor do I. But it’s taking a beating *now*, would it be worse if I knew he loved his job and his employers? I don’t know. I wish I had an answer but right now all I can do is complain.