Monday, June 14, 2010

There's no "I" in "We".

I think I write my best blogs when I'm alone. Most of my ideas spring up when I just dropped my husband off at work. I get to actually be in solitude in my car, listening to whatever song I want, and my brain starts to get off of auto-pilot. I'll sit down at my computer and start typing out my stream-of-consciousness writing and by the time I'm done, I have to go pick J right back up (that makes it sound like my blogs take like nine hours to type; he works four hour shifts). I'm typing this at 4a.m. with my husband next to me playing Pokemon of all video games (funny observation: Pokemon is in the dictionary because when I typed it out, the red line under it didn't show up as a misspell or an unknown word. Huh.). We have been having heart-to hearts all week relating to our upcoming "Decision 2010" move to Australia. We also have fought more than we ever have before this week, and also got to go back to how we operate individually instead of as a unit. Let me elaborate further...

One of my first long-term relationships was with the sweetest guy in the whole world. We would spend hours laying on the grass near his house, content with the fact that the two of us were together. A rift came regarding our relationship, and we had to choose each other or family that wanted us apart. We, of course, chose each other because we couldn't imagine not being together. We started off well, functioning as a unit. I had been at my job for awhile, and I had already accumulated my own bills and routines as an adult. In the beginning he was a beacon of light, working at a low-pay job and helping out around the house and being there for my emotional outbursts. Then he had gotten fired for something he swore he didn't do, and, of course, I believed him. We fell behind on bills, but it was okay because we loved each other enough to survive any hardships we came across. Since all of the bills were in my name, when we got too far behind I was the one who had to file for bankruptcy. Seven to ten years of rebuilding credit was okay because we were together and we would make it through. My boyfriend seemed to get fired from every single job he had, and there would always be a reason (always their fault, not his). I started to get sick on a regular basis, so I went to a doctor that put me on temporary disability so we could figure out my stomach ailments. After a bit my boyfriend would be M.I.A, coming back home in the middle of the night reeking of pot. He wasn't supposed to be driving my car, but he would ask and I would tell him just to make sure he was home by a certain time with it. He never was. After a year of going to the doctor every couple of weeks, they told me my stomach problems were all stress-related. One day I just literally woke up and told him, "I'm done", and never looked back.

Love is a drug. Doctors have proven it triggers the same brain areas of cocaine. I can still look back and remember how happy and carefree I was lying with him in the field, that no one else on Earth mattered except he and I. Once the drug effect wears off, that's when you're confronted with the cold, hard facts of your significant other that you may have denied looking at or accepting that they could possibly be flawed. I still happen to think my husband is perfect, but this week has really tested my limits on the subject of love.

Being a unit, an "us", is a HUGE undertaking, especially if you have different opinions on a subject. When you get married, even small things become a big deal (I hate that he leaves his wet towel on the bed after he takes a shower; he hates that I never replace the toilet paper roll). When we first fell in love, our journey involved a massive game plan, considering we lived on opposite sides of the planet. Our love got us through, and we were able to come together and live happily ever after. Right? Well, yeah, up until this week for the most part. Our biggest decision has been where we are going to get dinner from that night. We rarely argue, which is odd because I can have a temper and usually sulk if things don't go my way (I'm the baby of my family). We are both non-confrontational, so when we do fight, we make up usually like an hour later. The first big life decision we had was getting married and country-hopping, and we were so infatuated with one another and knew that everything was going to be alright because we would be together. This time around I want to strangle him!

Australia's motto must be "no worries, mate", because if my husband saw a car burst into flames in front of him he would be like, "did you see that! Wow". He's so laid-back. Not only am I a Virgo, but have been a manager almost all of my adult life. I'm built to set-up plans and lay things out on the table. When the offer to move to Australia came up, I instantly got a piece of paper and started listing the main concerns we would have to deal with, like bills and visas and our cats. By the third day, I found out what my car was worth, what visa I would have to get, how to update my passport, and the best way to ship boxes. He's been sitting on the computer upgrading his Poke people (I know nothing about Pokemon). I'm asking him questions about Australia like, "do they have Excedrin in Australia? What about soy milk?", and he says "I have to wait for later on to finish playing Pokemon because the one I need only comes out at night". I'm figuring out our budget and international banking, telling J the cheapest time to fly is in August, and he's playing POKEMON. I'm starting to get a stomach ache.

By the middle of the week I popped my top. I was asking him about setting an actual date so I could be more aware of when I should start giving 30-day notices and letting friends and family know, and he tells me, "let's just see how it goes, okay? Let's wait and see if maybe your disability gets extended another month, that way maybe by next month I'll get a part-time job, and then maybe I could still try for a full-time job. Let's wait until we have exhausted all of our options here". Oh my God, cue the steam coming out of my ears. I start screaming at him that I'm not going to screw up my seven-years-in-the making credit and getting evicted because we took a "wait and see" attitude. I told him I don't need him, that I can do this all without him, and if he's not going to "man up" and start weighing the pros and cons of this decision, then he can GTFO. Once the psycho-bitch smoke cleared out of the room, we were able to talk rationally.

We still are giving it seven days until we make a solid choice, but every minute that passes I'm unbelievably stressed out. J has been much more helpful (he probably doesn't want a chair thrown at him), but I can't do anything until we decide. We. I've never felt more married than I have this week. I read a quote once that said something along the lines of, "love is the residue left over when the effects of being in love have washed away". So I've sobered up, kicked the in-love addiction. I'm in it for the long haul.




1 comments:

spyder said...

We Australians *are* fairly laid back, it's pretty much a cultural thing (although I can hardly say "we" as I'm actually a kiwi. But I digress). From the few times I met him though I can say J is more laid back than most ;)

I hope you do eventually manage to move in Australia - would be great to meet up sometime!

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