A couple months into the new pattern of my weeks, and I’m no longer feeling so unsettled. The companion-ed weekends (whether the two or the three day ones) contain both relaxing and fun activities and a small flurry of laundry, cooking and other arrangements to resupply my spouse for the week ahead. I’m coming to terms with the pressure of choices between doing alone an activity I enjoy but he does not, if it occurs on the weekend – or spending those hours with him, since we already are separate for most of the week. I have also become accustomed to the limited contact possible during our working days. Security restrictions at his workplace severely limit connectivity. I’m beginning to keep a log of things I want to discuss, to review before our nightly calls, since I’m finding my memory for those small but important observations is not to be relied upon.
My time alone that is not spent on work is mostly quiet. Checking news feeds on my phone, reading, not as much playing of the piano as I had thought I would do, tending animals and plants, and resting. My time with my husband, by contrast, tends to be filled with sound and activity – his music being played, his phone conversations with family and close friends in Cameroon, and our discussions that are ‘catch up’ for the ones we aren’t able to have during the week. I’m relatively comfortable with both scenarios – but notably ill at ease during the transition from one to the other. And that is a discomfort I did not at all expect to experience.
Another somewhat unexpected discomfort arises from the seemingly unending accumulation of daily life challenges that I now mostly have to sort out on my own, without much opportunity to discuss them with my husband. Or is that pressure one I unnecessarily lay on myself, by trying to be ‘beforehand’ with everything that comes up during my alone days? Undoubtedly so.
Today began with me in a totally overwhelmed space, a new car problem being the proverbial last straw. Once I faced the reality that I had no more “give” to sort out the issue (which arose late yesterday) the help needed for resolving the problem came pouring in. My spiritual teacher frequently reminds us that when you push against a closed door, you prevent it from opening. I obviously frequently forget that instruction until I’m so exhausted from thrusting against the door that I collapse, allowing it to open toward me.
Maybe today, just maybe today, I can say “lesson finally learned.”
Tags: coping strategy, viewpoint
1eclecticwriter 
March 10, 2020 at 8:35 pm |
Thoughtfully explored 😉. We each learn at our own pace and sometimes it takes more than one lesson.