Day 180: No one is Rotten to the Core, We're Just Different

Have you ever found yourself in a disagreement with someone, both of you emphatically attempting to get your point across, before suddenly realizing that the problem is that you're not even arguing about the same thing? I am not a person that shies away from confrontation, but I have learned that unless you actually agree on a basic premise, no amount of discussion will ever result in resolution or even an agreement to disagree. I think this is why it is so difficult when you disagree over some fundamental issue with someone you care about. You cannot simply walk away from a loved one regardless of how vehemently you disagree, that is unless you are prepared to say goodbye to that person.

There are certain things that are best left unsaid in order to keep the peace. You do not tell a dear friend that you dislike his or her spouse nor do you get into a heated political or religious debate if you cannot keep from taking it personally. What about disagreements with your spouse? Is it possible to talk about a subject on which you are diametrically opposed? I'm not talking about being on opposite sides, I mean in a circumstance in which you understand an issue in a different way. Take for instance vegetarianism. I have been a vegetarian in the past and even cut out all dairy for a while. At the same time I still wore leather shoes and even have a leather jacket or two in my closet. My position was based on health, not animal activism. Debating going vegetarian does not work when you pit a health-conscious veggie against an anti-animal cruelty veggie. At the core they are two different issues.

Interpersonal relationships are very often a game of navigating choppy waters. There are a hundred little bumps and surprises that can throw you off course early on, but once the commitment deepens most of these dissipate. What is left are the core issues and values we all hold most dear. If they do not match up usually one of two things happen: we ignore them or we walk away. Ignoring them might work for a while, but things have a way of rearing their heads when you least expect it. Surviving the realization that your core values are different does not have a high success rate and it is impossible without the ability to maintain respect. In life, respect is always key, but so often we allow ourselves to veer away from that when it comes to love. Why do we feel free to say horrifically hurtful things to family members and spouses, but we maintain respect for friends or casual acquaintances? Maybe because we believe that love equals automatic forgiveness, but that is a slippery slope of its own because there is only so much we will forgive.

The more life I live, the more I am surprised to discover similarities in people with whom I was not close and fundamental differences with those I deem loved ones. Some will not survive and that is sad, but some will deepen and come to a new level of closeness and understanding forged through mutual respect. The question remains, however, if you can ever overcome that basic mismatch of core values and build a bridge of understanding, respect, and yes, probably even a bit of willful ignorance. Because unless you are willing to do that there is a good chance the relationship will not grow and that is just a waste. I count myself one of the lucky few to be surrounded with people that I love and trust enough to know that our differences can be overcome, but that has not always been the case. What am I thankful for? I guess the ability to recognize not just core values of people, but to know that those I love and who love me are at their core, valuable people.

Day 179: I'm too Fat to Live Lean

There might be some magical point at which we are no longer able to live lean. That time came for me sometime in the last few years. I think after you maintain a certain lifestyle you lose the ability to do things normally out of your comfort zone. I discovered this most clearly this year when I attempted to work at both a restaurant/bar and a retail store. Neither of these were career options of course, but while sending out resumes and killing time until the husband got back from Iraq they seemed like an easy way to earn cash. Then I got hired and went to work and discovered that the public is irritating, other employees are stupid and no amount of money is enough to make me want to work those jobs.

Maybe I am just too old or too lazy or perhaps I just no longer have it in me to work that hard for so little. Something about being younger and in need makes it easier to live a lifestyle less comfortable. You’re in college, you take a job on campus, you sleep four hours a night and still somehow feel okay. Well no more. The restaurant gig lasted a month and I hated it from the first two minutes of day one, but it wasn’t until another server said one of the most racist statements I’ve ever heard that I threw in the towel and never went back. That was six months ago.

This time around I thought it might be fun to take a holiday job at Anthropologie in the mall. I did it mostly for the discount, but also because I honestly just got tired of the unemployed road. I got hired two months ago and so far have worked a total of seven hours. I have spent somewhere in the neighborhood of $500, so I figure I’m in the hole for about $455. How the hell do people do this? If I were homeless with four kids I would not work in retail or the service industry. Then again, with four kids I could put them to work and reap the rewards from their child labor.

The retail gig is coming to an end tomorrow morning. I am scheduled to work 8am-5pm on Black Friday and again at 6am on Saturday. I want to be responsible and do the right thing, but not nearly as much as I want to just sleep in and cuddle up with my husband. If I needed this job to pay the bills I’m not sure it would be different. I think I have just reached that point, either from age, physical discomfort, or economic stability that I am not able or willing to put up with the general populace. I’m not all that fond of the mall or the people in it on a normal day let alone on Black Friday at 8am. I think it’s probably better and safer for everyone if I just bow out of this experiment. I’m never going to be 22 again and I just don’t have it in me to work like I am.

Day 178: It's What You're Not Saying That I Want to Hear: What are you Thankful for?

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, well technically today is given that I’m writing this at 1am. Everyone has been updated their Facebook and Twitter feeds with blurbs about how thankful they are for family, friends, etc. It is rather lovely to see that even in this economically depressed time, filled with political upheaval, war and sickness people still recognize their good fortune. Still, I’m not one to state what I am thankful for in a yearly missive. It just does not feel genuine to me to suddenly be pious one day a year. There are plenty of things and people I am happy to have in my life, but I like to think I show it all year round, or at least don’t suddenly get sappy in a way that is out of character for me. Sure, I’m thankful, I have as much to be thankful for as anyone, but it’s kind of personal to put it out there, don’t you think?

We are all grateful for the loving relationships in our lives, roofs over our heads, food to eat, employment or at the very least sufficient income to pay the barest of essentials. I am more interested in what we don’t say. For instance, are you thankful that your pregnancy scare was a false alarm? Are you secretly happy you slept with him on the first date despite your protestations that you’re not that kind of girl? Does single malt scotch or a quality tequila make you want to believe in God? Perhaps you’re thankful for being a good liar, being attractive, having good skin, will power to not inhale a humonsterous bowl of mashed potato goodness?

It doesn’t take a genius to predict what will be thanked repeatedly this year all across the country, but it’s the lesser knowns that make it interesting. I, for one, am very thankful that I had a biological Mother would got knocked up at 19 and gave me to two pretty great people. I am grateful that I got to see at least two friends grow into adulthood and be happy before we grew apart. I give thanks for a husband who puts up with me despite some pretty big fuck-ups. I appreciate that my Pops nurtured my love of sports and for all the friendships I have made watching games over the years. I would be remiss if I did not also thank fate, nature or whatever universal force saw to it to make me the opinionated, self-aware, slightly crazy girl I’ve always been. I am thankful for my life and for finally learning to like myself just enough to make every day count.

Day 177: Don't Call me a Hero

They call us the unsung heroes. The spouses who stay at home, holding down the fort so to speak, while our military partners fight a war. Even before this last deployment I came face-to-face with the military’s need to praise those of us left behind. It seems like a nice gesture and I am certain that is how they intend it, but I am not a hero simply for choosing to love someone. I am a pacifist and not that comfortable with soldiers being called heroes given that they are not fighting for our freedom as in wars past, but I do recognize that they do a job I would never do and for that, they are at least noble. Please do not mistake the choices made in my personal life for a military sacrifice.

I ran into this unsung hero bit a couple of years ago. Whenever a soldier leaves a base or starts at a new one, they do what is called a “Hail and Farewell.” At these ceremonies the soldier is usually given a plaque and the spouse is expected to come to the front of the gathering with the soldier and is given either a rose or some other trinket honoring him or her as an “unsung hero.” I have always been offended by this practice and no matter how I explain it, the husband does not really get why I feel this way. A few days ago, my husband’s boss called me that once again and I feel maybe I should give my opposition one last shot.

I recognize that it is a sacrifice to be left on the sidelines while your spouse is sent off to war, training, etc. I am the first to admit that it is much more difficult than even I would expect it to be and yet, I do not need or want to be a hero for simply loving my husband. My decision to commit to a man in the military was my decision and it is very personal. Any sacrifice I make is a personal one, I am not sacrificing my personal happiness for the military institution. What happens in our marriage is private, not something to be bandied about by the military in some ceremony. I hate having to stand up in front of all those people and pretend that I deserve their appreciation in the form of a rose. I am not a hero, unsung or otherwise. I am a woman in love with my partner and that means sacrifice and compromise regardless of profession. That is what commitment is all about.

My intention is not to take away from any of the other spouses, but I feel like we take away from the soldiers and from our relationships in general when we present it like something we do for them. I did not marry Jeff for the Army and I do not want or need their thanks for something that had nothing to do with them. Thanking me, calling me a hero, lessens what we have by saying our relationship is a sacrifice for the benefit of the military. I knew he was in the Army when I married him and his service is not completely voluntary, he owes them a few more years in repayment for his graduate degree. The Army is his job, not mine, my job is to be as supportive and loving a wife as I can manage and if anyone is going to thank me for that, it should be him, because he’s the one I’m doing it for. I am not a hero and I don’t want the Army to involve itself in my marriage. I don’t need their approval and I don’t want it.

Day 176: Forget Me Not

Lately, I seem more forgetful than usual. Actually, that is not completely true, I am forgetful about one specific thing, my blog. A major change in my life occurred lately, my year-long experiment of living alone ended when the husband returned from Iraq. The last few days I have been busier and more emotionally occupied than I have been in months, yet after 174 days it should be a bit more difficult to forget. Is it possible that my blog is simply a substitute for boredom and now that I am busy I don’t need it? Is this how we all are, subbing one activity for another until our preferred way to amuse or satisfy ourselves is available? Are we this shallow?

Perhaps it is more complex than it seems. I started the blog to find myself, to expose the truth of myself to myself in a no pulled punches way. Every day, if just for 15 minutes, I force myself to acknowledge what I am feeling about myself, life, politics, or current events. In a way, it’s a type of meditation in which my focus turns inward and illuminates that which I may not even know I am feeling. Some days it feels a bit like giving birth, a gut-wrenching and exhaustive process to endure. Other days, I am fired up and the words pour onto the page almost faster than I can type them.

Every now and again it is just nice to have something to break up the routine. My blog lives on, but for now it feels good to stop being so self-obsessed and to focus on someone else and something new. Life is full of change, that is something we learn to adapt to in order to survive. Remaining consistent to something, be it your job, your hobby, your exercise or your diet is always a bit of a challenge. I guess how you meet that challenge says something about who you are. For me, the blog is a commitment to myself as much as to anything else and while I know they’re not always interesting or exceptionally well-written, I am being true to my original intent. Distractions do not have to be bad things as long as you know how to balance. I am learning how to do that at the same time I am exploring myself via my writing and self-analysis. I don’t think it will ever happen that I will just lose interest or forget to continue blogging, but it is nice to know that I am not so narcissistic that I can’t still forget myself, however briefly.

Day 175: Playing Doctor

I love going to the doctor. Being a bit of a hypochondriac, I am always certain that I have some horrible disease. In the past, I have convinced myself that I had dysentery, a brain tumor, lupus, and a handful of other equally colorful conditions. The problem I face is that we moved three times in 16 months so I was unable to retain a doctor. Frankly, the military insurance is a huge pain in the ass. It’s great if you live on base, but outside the base very few physicians take Tricare so I’ve taken matters into my own hands and now I practice a type of alternate medicine.

It is not what you think. I’m not talking about some new-agey holistic practice, no instead I self diagnose then order drugs without a prescription from China. The husband is concerned with my refusal to go to a real doctor and self-medicate, but I assured him it’s perfectly safe. After all, the drug I am currently taking is made by Merck and closely resembles the pill description I found online of what it should look like. The actual dosage is a bit more tricky, so I picked one that is somewhere in the middle – not the strongest, but not a child dose either. It’s not that I prefer to do it this way, but I feel like I know my body pretty well and between the insurance issues, lack of regular physician and the difficulty I’ve had actually getting the medication I think I need it’s just easier this way.

I’m not a big fan of pills, but about 15 years ago I was diagnosed with hypothyroidism and put on medication that I was expected to be on for the rest of my life. The difficulties started when I had to get blood tests every two months to ascertain if my thyroid was leveling out. I did not have insurance then and after about six months could no longer afford treatment. Over the years I have gone to several doctors for my thyroid and all them have told me it’s low, but they didn’t feel medication was necessary at this time. Well, screw that. I have every single symptom on hypothyroidism and while most are merely annoying, one or two are very uncomfortable, so I finally took matters into my own hands and now I’m treating myself.

It’s been a couple of weeks and it will likely be another two or three until I start to see a difference, but I am hopeful. It’s not the most prudent method of medical treatment, but without a regular doctor, no one is listening to what I’m telling them I know I need, so I went rogue. Lately, I’ve had this hacking cough for several weeks. Jeff really wants me to see a doctor, but I’m pretty sure it’s black lung, so I just need to research the treatment and get in touch with my favorite Chinese dealer.

Day 174: You Can't Heal Scars, Only Prevent Them

You ever have one of those amazing days where everything just seems to fall into place? Well I don’t, not usually anyway. Today, however, was one of those days. I felt almost chipper, a state of being that I only recognize by how annoying it comes across to me when others are chipper. I am not a chipper person, but after a fantastic day where everything went right and all seemed perfect with the world I was very much in danger of crossing to the other side and being one of the annoying chipper.

People sometimes criticize me for being too negative. Personally, I do not think of myself as negative, but I do notice things that are wrong or out of place just as much as I notice what is right. Ignoring the negative with a “glass half full” attitude does nothing but belay the true circumstances. I may not be a positive, chipper woman, but I have very good instincts and so I tend to keep one ear perked at all times for the sound of the other shoe dropping. Great days are wonderful and should be appreciated and thoroughly enjoyed, but I tend not to trust all that jolliness. For me, a positive without the negative is lopsided, so while I’m not necessarily looking for trouble, I am aware that it’s out there and can come home at any time.

Yes, today was a perfect day, but that perfection had the hairs on the back of my neck standing all day, as if sensing a coming storm. Still, when it came it surprised me with a force that knocked the wind out of me. I am not often surprised. When this one came, I can’t say I was prepared and even now as I write this, I’m not sure what I could have done to prepare. Sometimes life just knocks you on your ass when you least expect it. I guess when that happens the real test is how you get back up. I never stay down for long and I feel wiser for the experience, but sometimes you’re left with a cut so deep you know there will be a scar long before it forms.

I’m not looking for trouble. I’m not looking to ruin a good day. I simply know that it’s always when you stop looking over your shoulder that the hit comes. Call me negative if you want, but I’m not one to enjoy being blindsided so I’ll do whatever necessary to avoid the feelings nights like tonight evoke. I think you can get to a point where you no longer are able to recover from emotional scarring. The only way I see to prevent that from happening is to avoid the situations that cause it, so yes, I’m going to stay alert. Kenny Rogers was right, sometimes you can stick around and see something through and sometimes you walk away. The real skill is in knowing when that time has arrived. Lucky for me and my brief chipper outlook, I’m not a quitter, but don’t fuck with me, because I’m not a punching bag either. Even positive people have their limits.