It was noon on Friday. Although I had thoroughly enjoyed my visit with the family, despite the gossip, pettiness and dysfunction, I was ready to head out. After spending almost a week in a house full of enough people to field a football team - with substitutions available - I was looking forward to it being just Cam and me in the car again.
The first chunk of the drive would be a short one - just 5 hours to Helena - and both Cam and I were excited. The first visit with
Os was a blast, there was no doubt the second visit would be equally fun. A night of the Helena Brewers, pizza and beer just added to the memories.
Saturday morning arrived, much to my protest. It was time to muddle through the hangover (and it was a nasty one) and really hit the road. I started feeling anxious. Was it just the remnants of the Belgian White - the throbbing head and tumultuous stomach - or was it more?
One of the things I learned while we were gone was that I really do miss mountains. I have said it many times, but returning after a 5 year absence cemented it. There is something quite comforting - a definite sense of security - when I am surrounded by the majesty of mountains. I feel protected, as if they wrap themselves around me to keep me safe. I knew the Saturday drive would take me away from that comfort. I tried to absorb as much of the mountains' strength and power as I could on Saturday, I knew I'd need it.
Sunday morning felt a bit melancholy. Cam and I really had a wonderful time and the reality of its abrupt end - the return to the life I have created for us both - was staring me in the face like a stack of dirty dishes. I knew what needed to be done, but I didn't want to do it.
It was when we hit Wisconsin that I really felt the impact of what it meant to travel back to Chicago. While Cam and I were gone, we were able to be genuine. There wasn't any pressure on either of us to try to keep peace in the house - we could wake up in the morning knowing what to expect.
You see, there is a great deal of uncertainty in our house. Yes, sometimes things run smoothly, but there is always this underlying fear of making some comment - of doing something "irritating" - and having husband go off. These aren't major infractions by any means, they can be things as simple as sitting "wrong" in the car making something squeak or rattle, or hitting the snooze button on the alarm clock rather than getting up the first time it sounds. And these "irritants" set him off daily, and sometimes multiple times in the same day. There is a need for constant and relentless awareness of what one might do that will cause some ridiculous outburst, always waiting - anticipating - disapproval. It is physically and emotionally draining.
By the time we reached Illinois, I had worked myself into somewhat of a frenzy, and Cam was reflecting that anxiety. An hour - 60 minutes - until I put us both back into that environment. My hope was that as our time away offered me time to reflect, husband would have taken advantage of that time to do the same. I hoped there would be a warm welcome - some indication that we had been missed - some attempt to make things better for all of us. But hope failed me.
When we walked into the house, husband didn't even get out of his chair to welcome us back, but rather turned up the volume on the TV because we were making too much noise bringing our things in and interrupting the program he was watching. Yes, we were "home," and nothing had changed. Hope has never gotten me very far - change requires action - hope just fills an idle brain.
Yes, I'm still fence sitting, but this time with a different plan. I'm not ready to throw in the towel on the marriage, but I am ready to make the changes needed to insure a more "normal" existence for Cam and I. I am ready to stop trying to please someone who will never be pleased and spend that energy on making a healthy home environment for Cam and me.
I have no doubt there will be significant repercussions for this "selfishness," but I can't help but believe the rewards will be immeasurable.
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