Honesty

When we put the plan in place to give my husband a break from real life it worked. Returning to our new normal felt a little too familiar. My husband had gotten healthy during his hiatus from the house. He began to know the value of good, healthy choices for his meals and that a little exercise goes a long way not just physically but mentally as well. All points that I tried hard not to point out that I had told him long before, I just enjoyed the benefits. All of a sudden, the man that could hardly get out of bed some days, or I couldn't get to go bowling, or to play tennis or go for a quick walk was walking a mile and a half twice a day up the beach, hitting his step's goal multiple times per week on the golf course, cooking fish and fresh vegetables for dinner and doing his own laundry. All of a sudden, the illness was no longer controlling the man, it was the other way around. He had things to talk about, friends to see, activities to do. Unfortunately, as time would eventually reveal these new leases on life seemed to be stuck in Myrtle Beach, which was not good news in my world. With the reality came the pressure.

From day one he would state that he was going to retire in Myrtle Beach, and I could join him if I wanted. From day one I said I hated Myrtle Beach and that wouldn't happen. When those statements were first made it seemed like a pipe dream or a bridge we would cross way down the road. I never realized that he would retire so early, nor that I would be in a position that I would see myself never retiring due to our finances and lack of planning or protecting.

If I am being honest, I no longer hate Myrtle Beach, I actually kind of like it...to visit. It is the place my husband gave his life back to God and found his sobriety. What I despise though, is the pressure that I feel when it comes to being there. There is a constant undertone of relocating. It comes in the nicest forms of questions of wouldn't I love the consistency of the weather, offers to help start my business down there, sweet sweet invites with promises of what could be. He calls it his happy place. What he doesn't realize is that what makes it happy for him is not the warmer temperatures, or the sound of the waves, or even his friends from the meetings. Although all of those are a part of the description, what makes it his happy place is the lack of real life that would occur if it were our place of residence.

If I am being honest, I understand he would love it if I could pack up my laptop, printer and phone and work from there as easily as I do in my home office. That if my staff were more dependable, I could be anywhere I wanted and not stress as I work remotely. If he were able to be honest though, he would know that work is only a part of the reason I stress about traveling. I am a homebody, not a hermit (as I have recently been called). I am content in my own house and yard and prefer sleeping in my own bed to any other.

My home was built in the late 70's and although it was recently renovated, there is still a lot of work to be done to bring it back to its full potential. I keep a relatively well managed house in the areas that I exist regularly in, the common areas and my bedroom. There are the areas that I intentionally do not enter unless I have to because there are no quick fixes for the clutter that has built up. The basement, the shed and the garage per say. Other people's bedrooms I avoid out of respect and self-preservation. (This is a whole separate blog for another day.) It is my childhood home, my comfort place and my safe haven despite all that has occurred within its walls. It is large with plenty of space for all who reside here, or at least most of us. For my husband it is far too small most days for all that call this address home. Honestly, it has nothing to do with the square footage. There are too many dynamics that pull my attention from him. He feels that if it is just he and I then he won't have to share my attention and that will make him content. The issue with this is that he is not completely wrong. I will not have my grandchildren dart in to share a story with me. My son won't come plop on my bed and say something that makes me laugh. My daughter won't come curl up on the couch and force me to watch another Christmas movie in July. Without the extra work of the added people, I will have more time for my puzzles or my reading and writing, but I won't be able to do it. I will have more time to sit outside and listen to my music around the firepit, but I won't be able to do so. I will have more time to watch the movies that I want to watch, but that won't happen either. I will have plenty of time to go play Pickleball, but chances are it will be at a cost. Honestly, I will be able to do all these things, as I can now. I just cannot do so without feeling like I am supplosed to be doing something else.

We had a lot in common when he was a family man. Did he grow and I not? I guess I really don't know that answer. I changed careers and started this blog. I redeveloped my relationship with our children as they grew into adulthood. I picked up new hobbies so it really doesn't sound like I became stagnate. He stopped working and wants to travel. He has become determined that the only way for him to be truly happy is to live in Myrtle Beach, and reminds me that I was warned of this. I hear it as he wants to be where no one in our family will be, where my work has to be started over and where he has a group of friends and I have nothing. Sometimes honesty can be brutal.