Where’s Waldo

Today we’re getting things done in order to have my husband’s office up and running hopefully tomorrow, if not, then next week before we leave for Buffalo. It will be nice for him to be closer to home, but I know it’s an adjustment to learn a new floor plan / office.

We’re headed to a banquet tonight with the Mayor. He’s presenting an award to my husband & welcoming him to a committee. I’m not fond of these events. It’s awkward having no one know you, and when you enter a room with a blind person, you have the task of finding someone they need to speak with / greet without knowing anything about that person. It’s like “Where’s Waldo” without the striped sweater and hat.

Okay, break’s over. It’s back to work until I get the chance to get cleaned up for dinner.

Working from home scheme

Ha – not the kind that will have you make 80K while you sit in your pajamas. If you’re seeking that, trust me you’re in the wrong place. If anyone could figure out a way to make it happen, I’d be all over that. Because I like being home in my pajamas, I like making money and I like working. Just not too hard.

What I’m talking about is my husband “working” from home this week in an effort to (his words) make our relationship stronger. I really think he just wants to be out of the office while they pack up his stuff in preparation for the move from Metro Center to the Airport area.

I love my husband. These attempts of his are wearing thin. Last attempt – bringing me along on the business trip to DC. That was not a success, He gets these little schemes in his head, plotting how to “fix” everything with as little effort as possible. It’s frustrating.

Really, truly, I cherish my time alone. Perhaps I sound selfish, but those hours when he’s at work are my time to unwind, relax, run errands, whatever without him wondering where I am, what I’m doing, when I’ll be back, etc.

Next week we’re headed home for a wedding – so we’ll again be spending a lot of time alone together – in the car. Can you just sense my enthusiasm?

Here’s hoping that these next few days aren’t too bad.


My family would understand if I had a hand print on my arm, or a black eye.

They don’t seem to grasp that some wounds are less obvious. That neglect can be as hurtful as a dozen backhands to the cheek.

We’ve been a private couple.

When we went into infertility treatment, only one couple we were friends with knew. And even then, only because certain procedures needed anesthetic, which meant we needed a driver. When my cancer was diagnosed, I waited to tell our families, until after we were aware of the outcome. When we completed adoption paperwork, only the essential people knew. No one knew the husband has multiple urologic/hormonal issues. Very few people were told the details of my assault last November.

When I do try to share a little bit with our loved ones, I get grief. We shouldn’t burden them; we shouldn’t bother them, and so on. We have gotten very good at these methods. Keeping secrets, omitting information, dodging questions.

It does cause me to wonder if he’s been hesitant to share because he’s a private person or because he likes having me feel isolated.

I’ve always said I’d leave the moment a man raised his hand to me. Why is that so much worse?

Home is where your heart is… unhappy?

Back here in Tennessee – after another long business trip where there was too much discussion and not enough enjoyment. You would think we would find something to enjoy in another city, but apparently not.

Today we decided to not decide anything. A truce of sorts – or a respite from all the talking that's been going on.

I need it. I need a chance to rest and think before I say things I don't mean to say. Before I can process all the things he said to me this week. Before I just run away, trying to escape.

Rain, rain, go away…

I’m sitting in the window here at the Grand Hyatt, watching the intersection; watching it rain. Rain leaves me pensive. I feel like brooding a bit.

I’m supposed to be heading to lunch. I’m debating blowing it off. To be honest, the last thing I feel like is telling a stranger all about me, and having them ask questions I don’t feel like answering. Now, if I could get them to spill tabloid worthy details about their boss’ recent scandal – perhaps it could be interesting.

I talked to that guy last week. I’d been distancing myself from him, but it’s not fair for me to stop answering the phone without some explanation. So, I opened the phone and took a deep breath. Before, I thought if I could find a way to have him not affect me, I would jump on it. I thought I could avoid him, and have him leave my periphery. I can’t and don’t want to. I recognize the danger he holds, and I am aware of the damage he can cause. Isn’t acknowledging that something? However, I don’t think I should have to completely shut him out because of the temptation.

Maybe I’m foolish. Maybe.

Before, I ran. I had a friendship with a man, and it was becoming dangerous. We got along fantastically and thoroughly understood one another. We were able to support each other through some truly terrible things. But, I sensed the change when it happened, and I didn’t want it to destroy our relationship, or our relationships with other people. I could have let things run their course, but I knew there was too much at stake. So I left. We went from daily contact to nothing. I knew he was suffering, I heard it in his voice when he’d call and leave a voicemail, begging to see me or talk to me. He tried to track me down. But I made my point clear. I didn’t think it was fair to stay in contact the way we were. I knew we would have ended up in some messy situation, jeopardizing the important things in our respective lives.

It may sound stupid, but I think it was one of the smartest and bravest things I’ve done.

I don’t feel this is the case here.

Maybe I’m broken. I know there’s something there I’ve never found before. I know he has a lot of the qualities I admire in a person. A lot of the qualities I’ve only found once before. He’s given me strength at a time I felt drained by most everyone else.

It’s convoluted.

I try to distract myself, thinking about other things. Remembering that he’s not the “be all and end all”

I remind myself of my obligations.

I talked to a new Nashville friend last week, that I know only a bit. We were discussing separation and marriage counseling / therapy. I was asked if I can remember good times. If the person I married is still the person I want to be with. If I met my husband now, would I fall in love and want to be with him. If I believed we could make our way through this and be stronger.

I was asked if I knew what I wanted. I’m beginning to know, I just have a hard time vocalizing it, especially to my husband.

And myself.

Random – DC version

Just finished – The Average American Male – Chad Kultgen. Interesting book, but not as amusing as I would have hoped. However, it does leave me wondering if my line of thinking is more male than female at times. Should this concern me?

This hotel is not great. Nevermind the fact that the hotel is mostly full of people with disabilities (ducking from criticism now) there is no good place to lurk. The staff won’t let a girl just hang out with a drink in the sports bar. On the bright side, the possibilities for entertainment are endless: just outside the lobby doors is a throng of people smoking and 2 drunk men in wheelchairs are showing off their “stunts” to some ladies. I think others are trying for a conference fuck as well.

Supposed to be meeting husband and his former colleagues for lunch in swanky DC executive lounge tomorrow. I don’t like being introduced as his wife right now. I feel phony for acting like our life/marriage is fine for the sake of others, even though I’m accustomed to doing so.

Got the chance to rip into someone today regarding taking the guide d og somewhere. It’s nice to have someone acknowledge that their company was wrong and actually seem genuine about it.

Hotel TV choices suck – not even 20 channels. The price of the room is high enough to warrant a few more, but at least I can watch Oceans Thirteen and dream about a George Clooney, Brad Pitt et al.  Oops, did I type that?

Gotta answer the door – room service has arrived.

A short vent

So far, this trip has been a disaster.

Multiple issues with the airport, airline, shuttle yesterday. Finally got to the hotel, looking to relax and unwind, only to have a former colleague of my husband’s barge in, inviting himself to spend the rest of the evening in our room.

This morning we’ve run into a poorly organized conference, and I was forced to wait around playing sighted guide. I am planning on spending the rest of my afternoon showered and naked and hidden in my hotel room.