The dementors are everywhere it seems. Everyone I know, in the blogosphere, in my real life, among friends and yes, in my house, has had every ounce of joy sucked right out of them. Logically I know it's because of winter blahs and the extreme lack of sunlight in Canada right now, but honestly, I kind of wonder if we aren't just sick of our respective stupid governments, our economies, our jobs?
My kids are sad and cranky, and Kaz and I cannot get up in the morning to save our lives. We both have insomnia, and have never been and never will be, morning people. Mornings are shit, and talking to me before 10 a.m. is never pleasant on the best of days. Kaz's insomnia is one thing, he just has a teenage biological clock that will change as he grows older; my insomnia is different because I'm afraid to go to sleep. Every night for most of my life, I have woken up screaming with nightmares. I don't even remember the content, but every night, they come. So really, would you want to go to bed? Most sleeping pills either drug me too much for too long, or they give me more nightmares, so I don't bother.
The difference with the black mood this time is that other people around us are usually happy---not anymore. My husband is incredibly unhappy. He blames a myriad of issues, like work stuff, and the stress of the baby, dealing with kids, and wondering what to do with the house reno we have been putting off/planning forever and a day. I think all those are just minor issues and really he feels crappy overall right now, but who knows?
I feel funny even talking about this, because I'm in a pretty lonely position in the blogosphere. You all seem to either be in the honeymoon phase of your relationships where your spouse is your best friend and has only tiny fixable flaws, or your husband reads your blog and so you don't dare talk about the fights you really have, or you have finally gone all the way to divorce/separation talk, like Thrice, or Jennifer, or Val.
What about the people who are struggling after 10-12 years together? Who won't give up on their marriage and want it to work out, but know with absolute certainty that there are no hearts and flower fairytales in the end? When Kaz started school everyone in his daycare, and everyone in his elementary school class were living in two parent seemingly happy homes. And by the time he starts middle school, our family structure will be the minority. We already are, but truthfully, it's accelerating all the time.
So I know that it's ridiculous of my fellow bloggers to assume that they will be the exception and their marriages will all be the fairytales. It won't happen. Odds are, most of us will divorce and maybe remarry. And hopefully we will have kids to raise, cause frankly, giving up our last chance at having kids for the sake of a man who will most like dump you for some second younger model has always seemed a like a poor compromise to me. (And yes, I'm excepting women who want to give up trying because they don't want to try anymore, I just know too many women who do it mostly for their husband at the time then regret it deeply later. Funny how in 39 years, I've never met a woman who regretted having her kids, but I've met dozens who regretted a marriage. )
So why do I feel so lonely? Because few admit to an unperfect marriage, except me. It's like being infertile and surrounded by fertile myrtles who keep showing off their pregnant tummies and 25 babies to me, except instead they keep showing off their perfect fucking marriages. Slightly embittered, yeah. I admit it.
I'm still struggling. I love him, but I don't know if I can live with his bullshit. And maybe, he can't live with mine. Most of the time, when the Dementors aren't overshadowing the place, we are okay, we cope, we live with the rollercoaster, we have good days and bad and bicker a little but not a lot. But days like the past week....gahhhhhhh....I don't know how we're ever going to stay together even until this baby is born. I want to be with him, I just want him to change into a completely different person. I know he wants me to be another person too, but until this baby is born, I feel frozen, and I can't take my meds everyday, and even if I did, I will never ever be Suzy fucking Homemaker. I'd happily hire her if I could find her, and we could afford her, but really it ain't going to happen.
And he will never be Prince Charming, ever. He tries, in his own guy way. But he won't be the stereotype. The first year we were together, he made a mighty effort. And for a long time, until I started struggling with PPD after Kaz was born I made a mighty effort to be Suzy Homemaker.
And then I failed. And he gave up. And Matthew died, and our money troubles ramped up, and Mac's pregnancy was hell, and we struggled even more with money after he was born. For years we held on by the skin of our teeth....through POF, and mood swings, and my ADD, and depression, and miscarriages, and late losses, and his parents passed away, and his family fought with each other, and I stop talking the last remnants of my family and that became a bone of contention and he started a new business, and every traumatic thing you could ever imagine happened.
And now we're on the verge of success. We have no more money troubles. We might just get a live baby. DHEA with HRT and Adderrall might just keep me sane instead of crazy. We can afford to renovate and repair our house. We can afford tuition so that I can go back to work. We might even hire a Suzy Homemaker and stop freaking about whether the kids schedule is up to date on the damn kitchen calender. But I wonder? Is it too late?
After all these years, and all this hell, I don't know. I just need to hold on a little longer.
I also need chocolate. TWELVE POUNDS of it.