further thoughts

The post yesterday about my cape and Lex spawned a lengthy email conversation with my sister. I don't think that she would mind me writing that she is a single mother of three, living on a limited income (aren't we all - let's all take a minute to thank The Monkey for that one,) and dealing with some pretty heavy trials and tribulations that accompany ex-husbands (child support, custody, court dates, etc.) She's got it rough, without a doubt.

She found it imperative to point out to me how golden and Rosy some aspects of my life are compared to hers. I cannot disagree with her. She's right. SO, to all of you readers who may have found my post yesterday to be selfish and perhaps petty, know that I understand that I'm luckier than many people out there. I am blessed, unquestionably, because I do have a wonderful husband and partner (annoying and ungrateful though he may be,) he is a stellar man, I have a roof over my head, food in my belly, and the ability to avoid punching a time clock in order to raise and educate my kids. To those of you who don't have those things, my hat is officially off to you.

I still feel, however, that I have the right to have my own complaints and issues and gripes. After all, no one has a perfect life. *No One.*

With that thought in mind, I spent the hours between 3:40 and 5:00 this morning mulling over my displeasure in my life. Sometimes my brain will just wake me up like that and demand some attention. It occurred to me that I'm just angry. I'm full of rage. This has been an issue with me my entire life. I remember being just a little girl, still in a school grade that could be counted on one hand, and my mother told me that I had my aunt's temper. I thought this was awesome, but then my mother looked me dead in the eye and said, "No, Sarah, your Aunt's temper is enough to kill a person. That's not cool." Yikes.

While I have not ever killed anyone (tick tock goes the clock,) there are times that I do get so angry that my body literally shakes and my eyeballs kind of pop out. I'm a small woman, but I pack a lot per square inch. I've not really found a fail proof way of dealing with this rage, although as I get older, I get better and better. My biggest problem with my rage is not how I express it, it's that I often displace it.

DDFF and I were talking the other day about my current sense of annoyance and boredom with my husband. She mentioned to me that I am not alone in my feelings, that she and several of our other girlfriends have gone through, or are currently going through, much of the same situation with their men. I sincerely appreciated hearing this. But then my wise and wonderful friend mentioned something to me - that for some of these folks, it is often dissatisfaction with themselves that births dissatisfaction with their mates - they're not really bored and pissed off at their men, they're bored and pissed of at themselves. See, isn't she brilliant?

Turns out, yep, I think I'm in that boat. I DO absolutely have legitimate complaints about my husband's doings and not doings, I won't disagree with that, but they're not new. He's never ever been the one to dole out compliments, to say that he appreciates things, to remember where the dishwasher is more than 2 days after he finally found it. I've known these things about him for going on 7 years. Why is it so critical NOW?

I've been having dreams every single night this week about old friends from high school and college. In these dreams, I'm always out doing something with them, laughing, having fun. I'm active and interactive. I'm around a lot of people. I wake up feeling so refreshed after these dreams and as my day starts and I get back into my daily groove, my refreshing feeling wanes away. Same ol' Same ol'. Why am I having these dreams NOW?

Both of those questions can be answered quite simply - I'm bored and angry that I'm bored. I'm a very social being. VERY SOCIAL. I have always had a large group of friends, always have had plans every weekend. I thrive on interaction with other people. My husband, on the other hand, is anti-social. The idea of going to a party makes him want to peel his skin off. For the last year or so, I've stopped being social. I've stopped going out with my girlfriends as regularly as I need to, I've stopped going to parties and lecture and functions and gatherings. For reasons that I do not need to divulge here, my husband has felt the need to stay out of social situations even more strongly for the last year and I honor and respect that. In order to support him, I stayed away from those situations as well. I've stayed at home about as long as I can handle, however. I think I've hit my wall. I am bored. And I'm angry that I let myself get bored because boredom to me is like Kryptonite to Superman. It kills me.

So, B, I get it. You see my cape. You know it's there and you think it's lovely. I know that because you haven't used it as a shop towel. It's still intact and functioning. And, I know you'll be supportive when I wear it out on the town soon - not only does it make a good PB&J sandwich, it just screams out for dancing with the girls.