joyful2beeblogs

I watched as she walked down the sidewalk, a neighbor and acquaintance. She was friendly, smiling, but was in her own world to some degree. We stopped to chat, since I felt I had known her from my past. We set a time to get together to learn more about each other.

She was always smiling but a bit nervous. She was always apologetic for being late or not being able to meet with me for lunch. Sometime her eyes were darting around in a nervous way. She rocked from one leg to the other when we stood and talked. She was a ball of nerves but doing what she had to do to take care of her family and to be sure she didn’t cross her husband, make him mad, or make a mistake or forget something she was supposed to do or to buy at the grocery store. Her mind was retracing her behavior from the last argument she and her husband had.

She was fearful that she would displease her husband by not remembering an item on the grocery list or buying something that wasn’t on the list. He told her how he wanted things done in a certain way. But she sometimes missed a detail of his orders. Then, when she was on the way home, she realized she had not bought something he wanted but didn’t put on the list. The anxiety level would increase all the way home. When he found out she hadn’t followed his orders precisely, he would be angry, and she would feel stupid and forgetful and the stress would mount in her heart and head.

Things weren’t always that way with her husband. He had been so loving, thoughtful, and affectionate all of the seven years they dated from ninth grade through the four years he was in college. She loved him with all the love she had and cherished their memories. So she felt he loved her and appreciated her. He even bought her little presents, called her while he was in college, and wrote poetry for her sometimes.

They began their marriage with the hope that they would grow closer and help each other. In some ways, they did help each other. But there were times when he was stressed out, worried about finances or he wasn’t happy about something, perhaps a memory from his own childhood haunted him. As the marriage continued, things were good sometimes and bad sometimes. Sometimes he was angry or frustrated about something, then she would forget something and the anger poured out of him into her head and heart.

The “me” I saw was the younger “me.” The me after the first four years of living in New Orleans. My husband was stressed and he became diabetic. We didn’t know this until about 10 years later! His blood sugar had been high, but he didn’t know it. I felt there was just a lot of stress from him, but I was also trying to give him support because of the stresses he was under while he was in school, working part time, paying the bills, working on his master’s degree and later his doctorate. Then, he was hired as a minister in a small town.

Things became better because we finally got pregnant! We were so happy after we came home from the hospital with our first son. Then, after things settled in, the old angry man and the past came back to haunt me. Having a baby and loving your child was not enough to keep life peaceful and loving, like it should be.

And on and on it went. He was finally diagnosed with diabetes and was placed on Insulin. His vision had been a problem too, due to the diabetic retinopathy he had, so I drew up his Insulin for him. I tried to get him to eat a diabetic diet consistently. But he insisted on eating the way he wanted to.

His temper and my fears of the effects on me and our son, were always on my mind. I had little confidence in my own mind! I felt stupid, forgetful, and that I was a terrible wife to make so many mistakes. The temper tantrums never decreased but were not happening all the time. There were some good times, but I was the dedicated wife, sworn to “love, honor, and obey.” So I did the best I could.

You see, my parents had only three major arguments during my life at home with my family. I didn’t know how to argue, defend myself or verbally fight. So when my husband started calling me names, it hurt me. If my own husband couldn’t love me by treating me like a loving husband, what was I supposed to do? We both loved our son. I couldn’t just uproot myself and take our son away from him. I knew the spats we had were bad for our son and for me. I couldn’t leave him, knowing he had diabetes and couldn’t see to draw up the insulin into the little syringes.

He died of heart failure at the age of fifty eight. I grieved the loss of the man I married; the part of him that peeked out occasionally. I felt sad that I couldn’t get him to eat like a diabetic needs to eat, to be healthy. I knew he had times when he was depressed. Neither our son nor myself could help him.

He died in 2009. Our son had moved out when he was old enough and could. He had his own demons from memories about his father. We made it through the tough times and both of our lives have been better. I became stronger and wiser. I stopped having times when I felt insecure about a decision or my ability to remember something. Even this long since his death, I sometimes don’t trust my memory or shut down some if I feel someone is judging me.

Over fifteen years after his death, I am totally independent in my decision making. If I don’t know something, I look it up. If it has to do with cars I ask one son or the other and sometimes my brother. But I am proud of myself for finally standing up for myself, surviving, learning how to pay bills, and all the other things he had taken care of. I am whole and loved by my family, friends, and neighbors.

My goal in life now is to be a loving, kind, patient human being who tries to love everyone and especially my family. I have wonderful neighbors in my condominium building. I live less than 30 minutes away from my two best friends. I can figure things out most of the time and find myself to be quite creative at making things work or fixing some things (except for a car!).