Irony

Sometimes you open a can of worms not realizing that someone else is about to open a barrel of snakes. Which means, your can of worms doesn't cause the uproar you thought it would.

But then when the barrel of snakes is opened, you sort of wish you were just dealing with your can of worms. Because the snakes are full of venom that gets into old wounds and creates a few new ones--both for yourself and for everyone involved.

I apologize for the bizarre analogy, but it's a tough time for me and my family right now. And, as usual, I'm not at liberty to provide details on the situation. But I will say that it involves my parents, myself, and my brother, and the people who touch us: our spouses and children. It also involves a lot of grief. My nerves have been stretched tighter than a guitar string for over a week now. Sometimes I nearly break down and cry. My mother-in-law called today to say she would be leaving tomorrow to come visit us for Christmas, and I nearly blanked out completely. I just sat there on the phone sputtering, trying to make my mind function. Really? It's already less than a week until Christmas?

What am I going to do?

I've been sitting around the house in a stupor for days. I've wanted to write, but felt too overwhelmed to make the effort. I've tried to keep up the housework, but I feel like it's pointless and that I get nowhere. Part of the reason is that the living room is in the early stages of being remodeled. There's drop cloths taped to the floor and not a piece of furniture anywhere. It's my baby's first Christmas, and I don't even have a tree to put gifts under. I feel like no matter what I do, the house will never be clean because I don't have the space right now to organize things the way I want them. There are also mountains of opened mail on the desk by the back door. I've tried to sort the pile, but it never seems to go away. I just want to scream.

A breakthrough, though: the other day on the phone, my mom asked me if I thought I had gotten enough counseling for certain things that had happened to me in the past--things that my mother hasn't wanted to acknowledge. I've been waiting over 10 years to hear that question, and I thought I might never hear it. I told her no, but maybe now would be a good time to seek out a counselor and talk about those things. We'll see what happens with this barrel of snakes.

Knots

So my contact lenses are not in a landfill after all. It seems my husband packed them in a box with the electronic devices from our office, along with my expensive sunglasses. Which was good, because a few days after finding them, we left for another trip to TN to visit family again, and I wasn't keen on wearing my glasses the whole time. But that wasn't the end of the blowups for me. After a couple of days in TN, I finally let out all the frustration at my husband that I had been holding in and told him exactly how I felt about his actions and attitude. My husband is truly a great man. He took my words to heart, and we've been closer ever since. A night alone in Nashville at a 4-star hotel didn't hurt either. We left the baby with my parents and just got away for a little bit. It was like a second honeymoon...definitely the best thing we've done for our marriage in a long time.

Unfortunately, the dreaded Can O' Worms got opened the day before we left TN, and my brother heard the big secret...just two weeks before he is to leave for Navy boot camp, which leaves him almost no time to process the information. Not good. He is stressing, which means I am stressing. But I keep telling myself that I refuse to feel bad about him knowing. I did not create this secret; I am merely its victim. At the same time, my mind and my gut are in knots. What if the secret gets out, and the whole situation blows up in my face? It could be a cold Christmas, indeed.

Angry Again

I should have been asleep three hours ago. I know I'm going to wake up so exhausted in the morning to deal with my 9-month-old son, and I'm going to be miserable most of the day. That's how it always happens when I stay up late.

But I'm sooo freaking angry right now, too angry to sleep. You see, I've torn my house apart looking for the year's supply of contact lenses I just purchased a month ago, and I can't find them ANYWHERE. I can't find them because my husband packed them when we were moving from the apartment. He doesn't remember seeing them, or what box or bag (if any) he put them in. The same goes for the really nice Oakley sunglasses I also just purchased. And the brackets that attach some of the shelves to our set of bookcases. And I'm not sure he cares.

I'm also not sure he listens. For his occasional requests to "Talk to me; talk to me," I don't think he remembers a word I say. The last time we moved (from SC to VA), I complained about his packing methods--which are, shove everything into a box or Rubbermaid container and move it. No labeling or organization involved. Then he spends the next two weeks asking ME where everything is since I'm the one who has to put most of it away. This time, he moved some of our stuff in trash bags. I warned him that doing so could cause confusion about what was actually our possessions and what was trash. So I'm now convinced that my contact lenses and sunglasses are taking up space in a local landfill, because there's no trace of them anywhere in this house.

I'm so sick of always trying to be the better person. I try to work on my personal flaws, but the effort doesn't appear to be reciprocated, and I'm tired. He sees that I'm unhappy and asks what he can do to make it better. I've got an answer: listen when I say shit and act accordingly. And while you're at it, act like you give a damn.