I'm Back. Sort Of.

Well, I've had my few days of trying to rest and pull myself together. I was physically so very tired or fatigued or whatever, and I was a little bit depressed.

You know how you hear people talk about what all they would do if they didn't have to work or raise kids, take care of a family? I remember many, many times daydreaming about having all the time in the world to do only what I wanted.

Guess what? I have all kinds of free time because of this damned disabling disease and I'd give anything not to have it - the free time or the disease.

I didn't realize how much I enjoyed working until I couldn't. I liked the structure, the responsibility, even some of the stress. I was needed, depended on, had things expected of me, and had people counting on me.

Don't get me wrong - it's nice to have time to write when I want to, to clean when I want to - even in the middle of the night when I can't sleep - to cook, nap or go do errands when I want to. It's nice that when I've been up half the night, I don't have to blur my way through the whole early morning ritual of getting ready for work.

It's all so nice, but I don't like it. I don't know if it's that lost feeling of not having a label or just feeling always so useless. I have said it before and I still feel it strongly - I like having a named purpose. I was a wife, I was an employee, I was a friend who could help out. I might be whining in high pitch a little. I mean, I can still be a friend and help out when I'm feeling alright. Most of the time though, I can't do anything more substantive than listening to someone's problems - and even that really tap-dances on my last nerve if I am in a mood.

So.

What I do is what I can manage, depending on the day, hour, moment. Earlier today, I kept my little nephew busy while his mother cleaned. I went and sat outside and wrote for a while (for the whole 32 minutes the clouds decided to let the sun peek out). I puttered. I puttered some more. (And it's kind of sad that, after years of seeing the word, I now understand what it means to "putter." Don't ask and hope you never find out.) Now I am killing some time with the blog. I did some housecleaning of the other blogs and I was going to add some features but felt no motivation whatsoever...

Damn this disease. Damn broken marriages. Damn kids that grow up and don't need you to kiss their little boo-boos, teach them to tie their shoes, cook or properly sort, wash and fold clothing. Damn.

The other day I was kidding around with a friend and he told me he'd marry me if he didn't think I wanted a husband just so I could be a wife again. That's kind of ha-ha funny until you think about the truth of it. Probably that's the reason so many women (and men) stay in abusive marriages - just so they are not "un-wife'd." I'll be brave and raise my hand to admit that's partly why I stayed.

I thought about trying to do something new and fun to keep myself occupied until I realize I have plenty of things to do, I just need to get over myself and do them.

Un clou chasse l'autre. Nah, I know not one syllable of  French and can't remember how to pronounce the phrase, but a friend once told me this means "life goes on." And it does.

Yeah.

Peace
--Free