Where the Heck Do We Go From Here?

Today is one of those thoughts are hurricanes, battering away inside sort of days. A lot of guilt, a lot of stress. A lot of just need to see it out in writing to even KNOW what it is that I'm thinking. So, bear with me.

Steven and I were married in June. Not new news. BUT, there were some things that went down that I didn't post out. I'm not sure now if that's because we were so busy, or because they were so stressful and painful that I didn't WANT to see them out in the wide, wide world. But, of course now, they're coming back to bite me in the tail.

Just shy of two weeks before we were married, my mom took Steven and his mom out to get Steven his suit. Now, his family is a little tighter with money than my mother, so she asked Steven on the way to meet his mother if there was a price limit on the suit. Thinking it was going to be rented instead of purchased, Steven said no.

Fast-forward. It was a great suit. It was not for rent. It was ungodly expensive. My mom covered half of it, but the other half was put on his mom's crazy sister's credit card. That night, the aunt was told that everyone was taking advantage of her, so she cut up the credit card, tried to stop the payment--made a big to do about everything. Two days later, Steven's mom--we can call her D--had a stroke. A pretty severe one. We found out she was still going to be in an inpatient rehab for our wedding.

I was in the room with her or checking on her(I work nights at the same hospital) nearly all the time. I was there more often than her husband. I put in her the showers, I stayed for her occupational and physical therapies. Steven came most nights to cover while I was actively working. The aunt--she can be B--called several times. She called Steven and his little brother, harassing, asking where her money was. If D was in the hospital, who was going to pay her?

I came in from work one morning to find D crying by herself in the hospital bed. I was irate. I went home and...eh, we can call it discussed, I suppose, the situation with Steven. That is to say, I yelled and ranted and raved, and he informed me that I was absolutely to stay out of it. I wasn't to speak to B at all, I was to keep my nose squeaky clean.

After he went to work, I ignored him. I went back to the hospital, where D told me that she just wished someone would stand up for her. I figured if no one else would, then by golly, I could. Furious, I went to her house. We got in an absolute, screaming, cussing, finger pointing shouting match. She told me I was never again welcome in her home, I told her to stay the f*** out of my life, my wedding, and if she held my kids, it would be over my dead body.

Steven was furious. I was spanked. I had to apologize. And, then, as he knew they would, everyone but me made up.

That afternoon, in the hospital, D was taken down for a test. I was there, and so was Steven's father. While she was downstairs, he proceeded to inform me that I had no decency if I didn't cancel the wedding. I mentioned that my mother had already paid for my dress, the venue, the cake, the bouquet, half of Steven's suit, the food...everything, and we would lose all that if we backed out now. He told me he didn't care how much money Mom had spent. That I had forced Steven into marrying me, against the family's better judgment, that we couldn't even afford tags for the car(which wasn't true, and I mentioned), that it was senseless and stupid for us to get married. He said my mom was manipulative, and if it weren't for us, D would never had had the stroke. Nevermind that she's already had open heart, a previous stroke, is overweight, and has uncontrolled diabetes. None of that had anything to do with it. It was Mom and me. I was hurt, I was furious. I found out he'd been telling Steven not to do it for a while. Of course, the family stood behind that. His other aunt and uncle, his mother, everyone.

She ended up making it to the wedding. But, those interactions have tainted every interaction that I have had with them since. I loathe his father. Completely and totally.

He would come to Steven's softball games, see me, and sit as far as possible from me on the bleachers, not making eye contact, not saying hi. The other wives asked me all the time, "Isn't that Steven's dad? Why isn't he sitting with you? Are you guys fighting?" And I'd lie.

And, his aunt? The one I had a little screaming match with? Thanksgiving is usually at her house. I've gone for years. But, she insists she's not eating with "D's daughter-in-law." Steven, of course, is caught in the middle. I have to work that night anyway, I think I just don't even want to go to a Thanksgiving--certainly not one where I'm so blatantly not welcome. During the wedding, my entire guest list came to me and asked if there was an issue with his family, since none of them would hardly "speak to the outsiders." I spent a lot of time covering for them.

He's out with his family today. I'm at home. Technically, I was invited to lunch; but, really who wants to go when you know how you'll feel the whole time? I begged off with a headache. But, now, I'm sitting at home, lonely and heart heavy. And, this is only the first year of our marriage...if this is our starting point, where the heck do we have to go from here?

VICTORY!!!

This will be short.

It will be succinct.

I.

Passed.

My.

First.

Nursing.

Exam!!

Not just passed, either!!

A 95 on the 400 pages of material--only about 150 of which were covered in lecture!! On the test all the professors said everyone would fail!

Second highest grade in the class!!

AND, due to unforeseen circumstances, I was awake 27 hours straight the day preceding the test, and I still rocked it!!

Steven's at work, and I want to tell him in person, so he doesn't know yet, but he's going to be soooo proud of me!! Super, super excited!!!

Chapter 113: In Which Grace Spends the Next Two Years of Her Life Sore and Steven Has to Refrain From Utterly Throttling His Wife

 I don't think I've mentioned it, but I'm in nursing school these days. I've been so excited to get started; it's felt very much like we're moving forward with life. Just think, in two years, I'll be done with that phase of school...

  What I didn't account for, though, would be the added stress...I know, I know...sounds ludicrous, right? But, seriously, I've been so excited to do it, that I didn't take in to account how it would mess with my sleep schedule, flipping between working nights and doing school during the days. And, don't get me wrong--I still really love it! I'm a total nerd, I know; but I LOVE school. The colorful highlighters, the studying, the focus, the scratched out notes, and the recorded lectures--the Facebook group full of more nerds just like me...

Unfortunately, when I come home, all the tests and the quizzes and the discussions and the dogs and the house and the laundry and the cat and my Dad's birthday and work and hard patients and the death of my heart's dad, J's, mother and dealing with all of that and the air conditioner breaking and the Emergency Fund depleting quickly just to make ends meet....it all gets to me. I feel that pressure, that edge, and Steven's the one who gets it. He gets the snappy me, the attitude, the narrowed eyes and thrust out chin. He gets the weepy me, the demanding me, the arms-crossed-oh-no-I'm-NOT me.

And, me?

I get spanked.

And, what sucks, is that I totally deserve it. He's been so good with me--all hugs and kisses and how can I help yous. He's enforced study time when I lose motivation, and taken me out to dinner just to show me how proud he is of my studying. He's promised a prize if I do well on my first exam come Monday. He's gone with me to study groups, just to spend time with me, even if I'm just spouting off answers and attempts that are about half wrong. He's been the picture of lenience, even when my attitude gets a smidge snippy.

But I just keep edging up to that line, glancing up at him, and tipping a toe over.

Aw, who am I kidding? I barrel right on over that line and don't look back. I take off running as far over it as I can get until he jerks me back. Then, I have all the good grace to look utterly bewildered as to how I wound up over his knee or the couch or the bed or the other myriad of positions I've visited over the last week. He keeps trying to go easy on me, to stop as soon as I surrender even just a little bit--and I'm good then...for all of five minutes.

I feel terrible about how I'm being. I know I'm being a total brat, and he SO doesn't deserve it. I have got to pull it together. I do.

And, yet, underneath all my competence and dedication and effort--

There's that sharp edge that wants to dare anyone to mess with me, much less to lead me. I want to toss my head and narrow my eyes and do it all on my own, my own way. And I don't have the first clue why, or where this rebellion is coming from.

Or if my bottom is ever going to not be sore for the next two years.

Ugh.

Fall Into Me

There's a country song that I really, really love. It's called "Fall Into Me", and Sugarland sings it. It's so soft, and so poetic, and gentle, and I just really love everything about it. There are other songs with that title, but this one...this one is my favorite.


Steven is so often my safety, my security, such a strength in my life. I have nightmares. Horrible night terrors that leave me sobbing and panting to catch my breath, covered in a thin sheen of sweat and trembling. Inevitably, when my dreams get the worst of me, when I can't drag myself awake, out of the depths of my own subconscious, there's his voice, and his hands, and his chest and shoulder, pulling me out. His arms that wrap around me, strong and sure, and so, so safe and very present.

He is so often my sanity. Working as a CNA is definitely a passion of mine. It's not my forever goal, but, for right this minute, I love the ability to care and give to people sick and miserable. But, it is draining. And, when I come home exhausted, frustrated, and upset--It's Steven. Forcing me to open up, to let him hear all the things that scare me, infuriate me, break my heart, or make me laugh. It's him, goading me into a better state of mind and tucking me into bed with our boxer before he goes off to work.


He's patience. When I just HAVE to call him, just to hear his voice--it's always there at the end of the line. Whether I call at 1 pm or 3 am, I'm confident he'll answer and respond to whatever nonsense reason I've come up with to cover the fact that I'm actually that needy. And then, it's "I love you, baby. Going back to sleep--I'll see you when you come home. Can't wait."

Our personalities are so opposite--I'm usually bouncing off the walls, distracted, hurrying, excited, spazzing, happy, hungry--in full gear until I fall into bed. He's chill. Nothing really flusters him, and it takes more than a poke with a sharp stick to make him angry. I panic, he's calm.

But, over the course of time, I've come to realize I want to be that strength(albeit in a different way) for him. I love to rub his back when he gets home, because I know it bothers him. I want to hear about his day--the people he loves at work, and the others that he...well, he doesn't love them. :) I want to be able to snug him when he's upset, to tease him into laughing. Corny though it may be, I want to be that song for him. I'm not usually a lyric poster---but, geez, this song:

 

 

When the weight of the world bears down so strong,

You leave footprints on the street

And there's too many miles to face

Without a few more hours sleep--

When the storm clouds overhead

Won't shed any rain to quench your thirst---

 

I want to be the one you reach for first.

 

When your faith is stretched so thin

That you can see straight through your soul--

And you can't find a nickel to buy a smile

Because your pockets all have holes--

You wanna shut the door and hide before

The day can get much worse.

 

I want to be the one you reach for first.

 

Fall into me--

My arms are open wide

And you don't have to say a word.

Cuz I already see

That it's hard, and you're scared,

And you're tired and it hurts,

And I wanna be the one you reach for first.

 

 

I wanna be the bottle

You been drinking with your eyes

Or the road you run away on,

You've been running all your life.

The third row pew that you last knew

As a child in church--

 

I wanna be the one you reach for first.

Fall into me.

My arms are open wide,

And you don't have to say a word

Cuz I already see

That it's hard, and you're scared,

And you're tired and it hurts,

And I wanna be the one you reach for first.

 

Before you turn the key

Before you fall asleep,

Before you drift away to fight

Those demons waiting for you in your dreams...

Before you, arms are stretched wide open,

Before you're reaching to the sky,

Before you're searching for direction

For all the answers to your whys.

 

Fall into me,

Oh, my arms are stretched wide open

Because I already see,

That it's hard, and you're scared,

And you're tired, and I know it hurts.

That it's hard, and you're scared, and you're tired, and it hurts...

And I wanna be, the one you reach for first.

 

 

 

Admittedly, I think prayer is something that should come very first, but my heart for Steven is this. That when he needs someone, it's me. That when he's angry and just needs to vent, that it's me. When he's sad, and his heart is breaking, it's me. That, in my crazy, all over the place way--I can be his strength, like he's mine. He loves me, beyond all reason. Through all my faults, in all my hard times, through accusations and fear and bad dreams, he loves me. And, I want to constantly be knowing him better, to find better ways to help him, better ways to love him. And, this song just really, really resonated with me. Love it.

 

Corny?

 

Probably.

 

Cheesy?

 

Probably.

 

Honest?

 

Undoubtedly. 



Blown Away

Can I just say, sometimes, my husband blows me away.

My real dad...he's a character. Honestly. Throughout my life, he's been a lot of things. A druggie. A hillbilly. An alcoholic. Crazy as all hell(really, certified and everything--he's quite proud of it). He's also been my constant encourager. He loves with a heart of gold as big as the whole of the USA. He always has something to say, usually couched in language more colorful than any rainbow.

When I thought I couldn't do it, he was there, telling me that he and my mom were too smart to have raised a dumb kid, and for me to get out there a try. After all, "What's the worst that could happen? You f*** up? Big deal, everyone's done it."

When I thought Steven and I were never going to make it, he listened to me rage and cry and watched me throw things and let me shoot far more than I should have. Then, when my hurt and fury was spent, he informed me that love wasn't something that was "fallen into"...it was something both parties had to work for and towards, and was a struggle til the day we died. He assured me that's why he had Yorkies and not a woman, but if I was quite finished, I should probably head home and work on loving the man I was with.

When I was dead broke, he told me that, if he had money, he'd give it to me-- but, as it was, I could join the club, and welcome real life through my door, and helped me laugh through the stress.

I was an oops baby, for sure. My mom and dad were already divorced; but, every time he talks to me,(at least once a day), my dad has told me at some point that "You were wanted. You were hoped for, and waited for. You may be a lot of things. But, one thing you are, always--is loved."

He tells me that I'm a blend of him and my mother, and married to Steven--and that makes me some kind of "unholy trinity"; he's one you just have to meet--and you can't help but laugh every time you're with him.

Now, my dad never graduated high school. In a lot of ways, his education level doesn't pass second grade. He's not stupid. He's not. He just didn't finish. Didn't figure he'd ever need to, I reckon. Now, though, he's desperate for a job, and he can't get anything without his GED.

He tried telling us he couldn't do it.

That he didn't even "have a base of knowledge for ya'll to work with."

And, ya know--he's on his way over here, anyway.

For Steven to sit down and work with him, work with him til he gets it. Because my Dad needs to feel like he's done something. He needs to feel good about himself again, and he wants this.

And, I can't think of enough ways to thank my husband, who loves my Dad, and myself, beyond all reason.

You guys were right--why borrow trouble? He's good to me. I love him. He loves me. And, you guys--you all are great. A constant source of encouragement and advice. Thank you all, so, so much.

When Ya Just Wanna Say, "They Started It"...

This could turn out to be a very long, rambling, confusing story. And, it's just as well, because I feel very confused, and very spent. I don't understand totally where my feelings are, or what they mean, or why I'm having them.

Steven and I have a couple friend--let's go with Marc and Jenni, to make it less confusing on that front. Marc and Steven have been best friends since they were little--they went through boy scouts together, we moved in together a week before they got married, they practically lived at one another's house growing up. And, quite frankly, the two of them are so scarily similar in so many ways it's not even funny.

And, then, there's Jenni. We all four went to school together, but ran with different circles, so I only knew her as a running partner in track. When Steven and Marc would hang out, though, they often wanted their women with them, so she and I started being very good friends. Now, though, I find her company exhausting. She's extremely critical, and it just wears me out. Before Steven and I were married, we were wrong because we were sleeping together before marriage; that was the first thing, and I could kind of go with that.

But, then we got married, and we bought a house. The colors were awful, I needed a folding table in the laundry room, the bedroom was too small, and she didn't like the paneling in the dog's area.

They are in the process of buying and remodeling a house that's bigger than ours, but is in far worse shape, so now I'm going about my schooling wrong.

I shouldn't be shooting for NP license after my RN, because it's 'crazy' wanting to work in a hospital for the rest my life. Also, (we work in the same hospital, doing the same job, mind, she just works days to my nights, 4 North to my 4 South), I should switch to days, despite the pay cut, because the people who work nights are 'lazy' because we don't give baths.

And, to top that off, I should go down to part time and make Steven pick up an extra job, like she's doing to her husband, because going to school full time and working full time is 'stupid.' Not that I'm 'really going full time. I mean, seriously, Grace, your school is only four days a week, mine's five.'


Her relationship with her husband also makes me sincerely uncomfortable. When we go to the men's softball games(they play on the same team), she wants to leave, and wants me to go with her. 'It's so HOT out here, Grace! I just want to LEAVE.'

"Jenni, your husband is batting."
"OH, it'll be over in just a second anyway, there's not really any point in watching. See, there? It's already over."

They get in these horrible, us-before-DD-and-then-some fights, with holes in the walls and coffee tables that crash to the floor, glass shattering to accent the sounds of the yells. They argue some in front of us, and it's always so uncomfortable to me. Steven and I have been talking about them a lot recently, because I've been less willing than usual to go help them set up their house.

Their relationship has baffled us, the lack of respect on both sides stunning us, and worrying us for their future. But, and maybe it's just THAT time of the month talking, but last night, I had the uncomfortable 'who are WE to judge that relationship' feeling. After all, he's cheated, and I've gone out driving with a guy friend of mine deep into the night, leaving Steven sick jealous. We've argued. He's lost his temper, I've thrown things. Granted, all of these things have been more than a little while back, but still...

Who are we to say we're different?

They argue, scream, punch walls, cold silences--but they've never looked away from the other. It's always only been them, since they were married.

And, what if I'm just deluding myself, that we're doing better? It feels that way, but, if you'll remember, the first time I caught him cheating--the post just prior was a huge breakthrough for me. I felt like we were doing the best we'd ever done, that we were turning a corner in our relationship...and all the while, I wasn't enough. Why is this time different? How do I know that it is? What if I'm just fooling myself?

Last night, when he and I talked, he lay beside me on the bed in the dark and kissed the side of my face. "We're working on us, Grace," he told me. "We're really working on openness and communication. Both of us. We've made mistakes, it happens. We're working on it."

I'd asked him if he thought we were going to make it, if we could do more than survive with our relationship, if we were going to thrive. There was no hesitation. "Yes." But, what if I had asked him that question last May? Would there have been hesitation then? Could I even tell a lie from the truth?

After a long moment of silence, he leaned his head against mine and said quietly, simply, "I'm sorry." A heartbeat, two, a breath.

"For what?"

"Hurting you. This should never have been something you had to worry about."

I lay in bed, still enough to count his breaths, thinking last night. And, you know what I've decided? For some reason, today, I'm hurting. I don't understand where all this is coming from. I don't know how to deal with it. He's been so good to me lately. He's treated me like an angel, tells me how excited he is that I'll be off more now for school, that he'll have my evenings instead of the hospital. That we'll make it. When I got upset over the money situation, he held me and rocked me.

"Just spank me already," I snapped. "Get it over with."

"Mm, mm," he answered. "I don't think you need spanking. I think you need holding."

He's been the kind of leader I've always wanted out of him...and yet...

What if this is all fake? And, I'm just too stupid to see it, just like before?

Shameless Stolen Tagline

I don't know how many of you read The Dish With Ward and June--but, you all really should, lol. It's always a very inspiring read; it seems often to touch on a subject that I really needed to "hear" right then.


Today, it was based off the tagline "Let's stop competing against each other, and work on completing each other."

School starts at the end of the month(I promise, I'm getting somewhere with this), and I'm going to only working three nights a week. Granted, they'll be weekends, but..since I normally work 5-6 nights a week... I normally have a fair bit of bonus and over-time pay. The more I've thought about this, the more I've stressed. How are we going to make it? Should I try to keep picking up? School has to come first...but, just HOW first? And, then, I start to budget. Not going to lie...I've budgeted clear through June of next year.

For the chick who's used to chunking money back in to our Emergency Fund(Savings), and extra towards debt, the idea of not having any extra is a terrifying thought. And, yet, instead of leaning on Steven, and letting all his, "Hey, we're going to make it. This is why we're going to school. It's going to be tight, but hey--you married the king of making hurt work. We can do this," get through to me...I've fought. I've snapped. My attitude has been in the toilet. I've been spanked more in the last two weeks than I have in the last three months. It's been crazy.

But, last night, I think we came to a sort of resolution, one that was only hammered home by June and Ward's post. Steven and I were arguing; I asked him if he needed to use my car for the next day's work. It's not our preference, either one of us--but, my car sips gas, while his chugs it.

"No," he said, stretching out on the bed, eyes half closed, ready for sleep. "I got gas this morning." A moment of dead silence.

"How did you do that?" I asked. Maybe he didn't sense the danger in my tone.

"Out of our account, why?"

"You broke budget!" I accused, instantly incensed. After all my hours of sitting and crunching numbers! How dare he! Get gas for his car!! What??

"Grace, I had to have gas," he reasoned.

"No! No, you didn't!! We had a PLAN! You were supposed to use MY car! Then, we wouldn't have NEEDED gas!" I felt tears threatening. To be fair--I'd called him at 2:30 that morning, from work, and asked if he minded me hanging with some of the work crowd that morning. In doing so, I completely forgot he was going to take my car. And, since that's actually his night time, he didn't care about cars or anything else but the inside of his eyelids. Can't blame him...I'm the same way during the day.

"You had your car," he defended, his eyes finally coming all the way open.


"That doesn't matter! You should have remembered to tell me no!" It makes me cringe to think how I sounded. Even now, hours later, sitting on the very sore bottom that tantrum earned me. Afterwards, he was very sweet, very snuggling, very logical.

"Grace," he said. "We're doing alright. We get paid soon, and we still have money. We can't help it when unexpected expenses come up. You needed to go to the doctor. You couldn't possibly have budgeted for that. And, we can't just not get gas because something comes up. I know you're worried. I know things are going to be tight for a while. I know you aren't used to this, but there are going to be checks where we're not doing anything but making it. And, that's ok. We're in college, trying to pay for a house and everything else. But, we're going to have to work together on this. We won't have a choice. We can't fight against each other, or compete, or throw around who makes more or less money. We're going to need to pull together and make this work. And, we can. We're going to be alright."

Much as I hated to admit it then, I hadn't been unduly spanked. I was perfectly atrocious, and honestly, he probably barely covered the offense. My stress has been working quite hard to shove us apart; I've picked up 4,5,6 shift runs, and will only  see him for several hours a week. And, as he reminded me last night--we're both looking forward to the shift switch. I can't wait to see him most nights. He can't wait to see me most nights, and to have me in the bed when he goes to sleep.

All that to say--I may need reminding later: but, for now, I want to work on completing, not competing.