I only loved one guy before I met my husband. He was my longest dating relationship prior to meeting Josh. And I’m proud to say the relationship lasted an entire six weeks.
Archives For My Story
Last summer I took a solo trip back to my hometown to hang out with my Mom and Dad. It was between Mother’s Day and Father’s Day and I wanted to spend some one-on-one time with each parent to celebrate. This type of hang out time is rare for us and it may have happened only once since Josh and I have been married. My Dad is an Illustrator by trade and he really enjoys doodling.
… take better care of my body
… work more hours
… have a better attitude at work
… iron Josh’s shirts
… be a better wife
… exercise more
I know I’ve been quiet for a few weeks [ahem, months]. I have a lot of reasons, but I’m not sure if any of them amount to anything life-changing. I definitely feel stuck right now. I have everything and nothing to share.
I’ve been on this winding journey where I go in and out of knowing what I want to do “when I grow up.” In some moments, I excitedly jot down notes or frantically text Josh and my girlfriend Terri saying “I’ve got it! I know what I’m supposed to be doing with my life!” Sometimes that thrill lasts only a couple hours. Then I second guess myself and think “Now, why on earth did I ever feel that was the right direction for me to move?” As a result, I am finding myself at a standstill. And with this standstill, I have moments of intense fear, anxiety and depression. I fear I will always feel stuck. I fear no matter what choice I make, it is going to flop. I fear I may put a lot of effort into a certain move, only to realize it wasn’t a good fit. It is in the moments I feel desperate that I get really scared. I don’t know whether to move or to stay and if I’m supposed to move, I have no idea in what direction.
For years I’ve worn my busyness as a badge of honor, and at other times, a cross to bear. I was a self-appointed martyr – Ooooh, how I wish I could spend time with you, but woe to me, I have way too much work on my plate to take time out of my schedule for a short conversation with you.
As I sit here now, I consider the reasons I have kept myself so busy. I can name three.
Crap! No. “Mmmm… you said something about what you are doing after work tonight…?” My tone turns upward as I end my statement with a question.
I don’t pay attention.
I often read the same sentence in a paragraph 4x times before I realize that I’ve read it 4x. Then I say to myself, “Okay, this time, you are going to focus”. It doesn’t happen. When I leave the house for work, I often times have to go back inside, run allll the way upstairs to check to make sure I’ve unplugged my flat iron. Once I get outside to the car, I’ll sometimes go back to the door 3x to make sure I’ve locked it.
“Can I talk to you?”
Ugh. I could tell by his quiet demeanor at dinner that he had been stewing on something. Usually the “Can I talk to you?” question is the beginning to our hard, long, awkward conversations.
“I’m really bothered by…”
Then it came. The flood of his frustration. This time, it wasn’t directed at me, but it still involved me because I had not stepped up and fought for myself. He was frustrated because of how I was being treated in another relationship. I deserved better. I could feel my throat closing up and I just stared straight ahead. I didn’t want to deal with this. Not with him and not with the other person either. Can’t you just let me be?