Friday, January 20, 2012

For Something Completely Different: 2012 Week 3

My husband is about to lose his job.  It feels shitty to write that, but it’s doesn’t make me sick like I thought it would.  It’s doesn’t feel liberating either.  It feels shitty and stupid because it’s senseless.  The company he works for has the government contract for the work.  It’s a done deal.  They say there is money for projects that are not getting released to the office.  If they get released then my Mr. and his co-workers will keep their jobs . . . at least through February.  Right.  Or how about you just use that as the sideways reasoning to close your little Iowa office and get rid of those paychecks and benefits so the stock looks even more awesome. 

I hate for him to have to start over again.  He hasn’t had to really look for a job for ten years.  On the other hand, he drives 45 minutes each way, and that’s a lot of gas usage and high stress in bad weather.  I’d love to have him closer to home.  He’s a talented graphic artist with a lot of skills, so I think it can be OK.  I’m hoping so.

Our daughter turned 17 this week.  I’m thankful that she is growing up so well. I think she was born with an old soul, but I know we’re raising her well too.  She has maturity beyond her years.  A lot of adults don’t have the emotional maturity or grace that I’ve seen in my child.   She has her first job this year, and she knows that we’re facing some tough times.  She’s making her own car payments and knows that she may be called on to pay for other things down the road.  It scares her less than the idea we might get divorced, which we’re not by the way, but if we have a fight she gets plenty wiggy about it.  “Hey, we’re having an argument, not dividing our assets and looking for separate apartments.  Relax please.”  Divorce is a major concern for her.  She has a lot of anxiety and guilt over something that happened once, a topic for later thoughts.  With less spare time, more homework and an actual work schedule, anxiety attacks are much less prevalent, and I think she sleeps better.  

My sister has either lost her mind or is collapsing into some kind of midlife crisis that hinges the realization that her life is empty and meaningless.  Either way she’s taken a virtual lover in Australia, attends but refuses to participate in marriage counseling, and believes that my brother-in-law should move out of the bedroom if not the house.  

8:00 am, the day before Christmas Eve, my phone rings.  My husband and I are still in bed.  My parents, who are staying with us for the holiday, are barely awake yet.  My sister is on the phone.  She says, are you going to be home.  I say yes.  She says, I need to talk to you all, I’ll be there in an hour.  Thus begins the revelation of her end-of-marriage awakening, displacement of feelings onto her husband, denial of actual infidelity and usual “I’m not sorry for how I feel or what I’ve done” spiel.  I’m still sorting out all my thoughts on this matter.

Final lines for the entry: from Snow Man by Wallace Stevens
For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

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