It's ALL In Your Head

Yesterday afternoon, while sitting on the couch on a lazy Sunday afternoon, I had a tiny little breakdown, I think.  And I wrote this:

I wonder sometimes if I am just weird.

I know everyone is unique and that certainly is a good thing.

I think I am experiencing some late winter doldrums.

But I'm okay with it...after all, it's just something different.

I got my hair majorly cut yesterday.

It is a wavy A-line long bob...shorter in the back, longer in the front.

Strangely fashionable for someone like me.

I think the doldrums had me wanting a change.

Imagine being on a sailing ship, and suddenly finding yourself in an area of slight, changeable, fitful winds.  That's what doldrums really means.

Enough to make a person crazy.

My problem is, I have things I want to be doing, and other things that I could be doing, but that seem boring or uninspired.

Unfortunately, some of things I want to do right now are projects that take money that I don't have.

Or Spring things that it is just tooo early to contemplate, like starting some seeds for my garden.

So spin, spin, spin go the wheels.

No new birds to photograph.

And I miss my camp.

And I miss my big boy in Iowa, who is off to Italy in THREE DAYS.

And I miss my friends, some of whom have teased me by suggesting a visit....in JULY.

Sooo....what to do with my Sunday afternoon?

I could stare across the room at my lovely husband, who is happily busy writing stories, while my novel is sort of in a stuck spot that it's hard to write around.

I could go to my Pinterest pins and plan and plan my next projects for WHENEVER it is the right time and I have the money to work on them.

I could dust my dusty living room shelves....but....NO.

I could get lost in reading a book until the day is done...which, right now, seems like I'd be wasting the day.

Or I could type my frustrations out on this page....so here they are!

So doesn't that sound a little wacky or what?  I vote for wacky.  In the end, it turned out okay, because shortly after I wrote that stuff, Bob showed me a short story that he was working on.  In it, he was trying to write about something from a woman's point of view...and, for a guy :) he was doing pretty well, so I decided to rewrite it from an actual real live woman's point of view, which I thought was even better.  Then he rewrote his story from a man's point of view, which I think turned out pretty funny.  Because there was a HUGE difference in our points of view. It led to a wonderful discussion about men and women and emotions, and the ways we deal with problems.

The best part about all this was thinking about how well our two different outlooks mesh together. As part of our discussion, we talked about how much fun it would be to write some more stories like this, with two separate points of view. So, I guess that's just a reminder to everyone that our stuff is copyrighted here, because we might be using these ideas for something at some point....but anyway, I wanted to share yesterday's writing efforts  So here are our two takes on the same (mostly fictional) story:

The Gift 

by Elizabeth Peterson

We couldn’t afford a Christmas tree that year.  But in the spot where it would’ve stood, crammed into the corner of our small living room, I found a package. Sigh….

Obviously my husband had wrapped it himself.  Big crooked red bow, wrinkly wrapping paper with tons of tape.  What in the world was he thinking?

We had agreed, after all.  This year, in the midst of moving and starting a new business, we didn’t even have money to keep up with our bills, let alone buy presents.  So we had decided together, I thought.  No presents until we got back on our feet financially. Yet...three days before Christmas...here it was.

I picked it up and shook it.  It was a medium sized box, but fairly light.  What could it be?  If he hadn’t put so much tape on it, I would have pulled back just a corner to see what the box said on the outside. Damn.

Tears in my eyes, anger, hurt.  He had AGREED.  No presents.  And here I was three days out, bad weather, no car, no money. He knew I couldn’t reciprocate. I just KNEW he would do something like this.

After all, he spent so much of his time just doing things to be NICE to me.  And as much as I tried to be as nice as him, I feared that in my heart, I was, and would always be, a selfish person.  I didn’t deserve a man who was always doing things to make my life easier.  Why was he doing that?  It just made me angry.

When he came home from a long day of work, I was loaded for bear. He was cheerful...he was always cheerful.  How could he be cheerful when we were sinking into debt that we couldn’t get out of?  His business was just getting started, and I knew he had probably not earned any money that day.  My business just wasn’t going anywhere, and I certainly wasn’t making money.  I had prepared supper, but begrudgingly.  I was crabby and snapped short answers when he attempted conversation. I watched him eat and then I quickly cleaned up and went to our bedroom to “read.”

But I couldn’t read.  My eyes kept filling with tears.  I was just so worried about everything all the time.  It made me not want to do anything, and certainly not deal with his cheerfulness. When he came to bed later, I pretended to be asleep, but then, after he started snoring, continued reading until I finally could block out my emotions and fall asleep.  

I slept late the next day, staying in bed until I was sure he had left for work.  And then I looked at the present again.  I felt I needed to know what it was, how much money he had spent that we didn’t really have.  I was sure he had maxed out one of our credit cards, which had such a high interest rate that we would never pay it off, and plus, we had said that money was for EMERGENCIES.  What if something happened and one of us got sick?  I guess if I was sick, I would just have to tough it out.  If I needed something, I would just do without.  If I really WANTED something, like a nice haircut from somewhere other than Great Clips, or some new clothes or shoes, or, God forbid, earrings or any other kind of jewelry, it was never gonna happen.  Damn it.

I knew he was trying.  He was working hard trying to find money for us.  In fact, he was trying harder than me.  I just wished he wouldn’t DO things like this.  I didn’t need anything else to feel guilty about.  

Finally, armed with more Scotch tape and a sharp scissors, I decided to do some investigating.  I slit the end of the wrapping paper right where the tape started and gently pulled it open just enough to read the writing on the box. A mixer? I had talked about needing a new one. But, why a mixer?  Probably could have paid an overdue bill instead.  That way I might stop getting one of the many collection calls that we were plagued with every day.  

So many emotions were building up, I knew I could never explain them to him.  So I decided to just be silent.  Not speak unless spoken to. Not let him know all the anger and hurt and guilt I was feeling.  Like I usually did if something was bothering me.  But this was more difficult.  

Because he somehow had the Christmas spirit.  He found free things we could do to celebrate.  Like watching Christmas movies on television together.  Or driving around in his truck, which was still running, but barely, and looking at other people’s Christmas lights. How could I enjoy the lights when I was thinking every minute that the transmission might be going out on his truck, and then what would we do?

I could see him looking at me from time to time.  Apparently, he could see something was not right, but of course he didn’t understand.  He always told me not to worry, he always tried to keep the worrisome aspects of our financial situation to himself so I wouldn’t have to deal with them.  But I did deal with them.  Every day they were in my thoughts.

Things didn’t get any better on Christmas Eve.  We had decided to go to midnight Mass, and I just wasn’t looking forward to it.  I felt like Ebeneezer Scrooge...humbug.  I tried to sing along with the Christmas carols, but my voice kept breaking.  I had tears in my eyes most of the time.  What was wrong with me?  I listened to Father’s sermon about opening our hearts to Jesus, and to everyone in our lives...how we should have a generous spirit.  

I looked down at my lap where my tears started to fall and make dark spots.  I didn’t want my husband to notice. I had been crying on and off for the last three days, looking at that damned present.  After all, he WAS the spirit of generosity, and I was simply NOT.

It came time for the sign of peace.  I knew that he would do more than shake my hand, especially since it was Christmas.  I looked up into his face, his goofy grin and sincere eyes.  I hugged him hard and kissed his cheek.  I would try harder to be as good as him.

Christmas day, I woke up early to the sounds of him making breakfast.  It smelled like he was even baking something to go along with his usual protein packed breakfast of choice.  Fine.  I got dressed and gave him a hug...grudgingly.  

As I sat down at the table with my first necessary cup of coffee, he went and picked up the present and set it in front of me.  

“I told you not to do this.”  I said, accusingly. “We promised.’

“Just open your present,” he said cheerfully.  Always cheerful.

I ripped open the present, sighing. Sure enough, a mixer box.  I noticed, though, that it had been opened.  I tore through the tape he had put on the top and found a strange mix of things inside.  Packing peanuts, a few rocks from some travels we had taken years ago.  And a note.

My hands started shaking as I started reading.  It said:

I love you.  Even though we cannot afford  a present this year, you deserve a present.  You are the love of my life.  Together we can get through this troubling time. You are the best wife a husband could ever have.  I don’t know how you put up with me, but somehow you do.  I promise that by next year, we will have a beautiful Christmas tree with lots of presents. Regardless, it is not the presents that matter.  We are together.  I love you every day, more and more.

My tears overflowed as I read the last words, and I stood up and opened my arms to my wonderful husband.  I always knew he was the best that a woman ever had, and I loved everything about him.  What a perfect gift. It didn’t matter that we had no money.  I had him, and apparently, for some reason, he loved me.  I would try to do everything I could to be deserving of his love.  Merry Christmas.

and

The Gift

by Bob Peterson

I knew we couldn’t afford to exchange gifts that year.  We couldn’t even afford a Christmas tree, but she really deserved something for Christmas.  I thought long and hard and finally came up with a gift for her.  I carefully wrapped the present.   I can never wrap a gift like the department store does, but I still thought I did a great job.  After all, the present was completely covered with blue wrapping paper, and I even put a pretty red bow on top.  I must say, it was one of the best jobs of wrapping that I had ever done.  I was proud of the wrapping even though there were a few minor flaws.  I placed the present where the Christmas tree should have been, in the corner of our living room.  Three days before Christmas, I had successfully overcome the challenge of having no money and yet still provided my wife with a present.

I know we had agreed to a “No Presents Policy” that year, but this WAS the perfect gift.  We could afford it and she’d love it.  I was sure that it would help lift her spirits during the Christmas period.  It would help get her mind off the bills piling up on the desk and the constant collection calls.  Anything that I could do to make her happy I would gladly do.

We had both started new businesses, and the money had not yet started coming in.  It was disappointing not to have money at Christmas, but we would make it through somehow.  I was sure of that.  A present would be the perfect antidote to the wintery weather, the problem truck, and lack of money.  I was proud that I had gotten her the perfect present.  She would be so pleased when she unwrapped the present. 

She worked so hard to get things done around the house and at work.  I wished that I could relieve her of some of that burden and worry.  Yet, I knew that our hard work would pay off eventually.  It was just a matter of time.  Meanwhile, I would continue to do things to make her life happier and provide for her.  She was the love of my life and the center of my life.  I would do anything for her.  I knew that she would be so happy with this present.

As I drove home from work, I thought about the present.  I wondered if she had any idea what was in the present.  I knew that she would be pleased so I could hardly wait to surprise her.  As I drove, I was trying to think of any other presents that I might be able to provide her.  The money wasn’t there for much else, though.  Maybe next year.

When I got home, I tried to talk to her, but she was a little on the grumpy side.  She must have had a bad day at work.  So I let it pass.  Even with her bad day, she still made an excellent meal which I thoroughly enjoyed, so I complimented and thanked her for the great meal.  She said something short, and then went to bed early to read.  She loved to read, so I left her alone to read her latest novel.  She always got so much enjoyment from reading those novels.  Meanwhile, I cleaned up the house a little and sat down to watch something boring on television to kill time until bed and chill down from a stressful day.

After watching who knows what for who knows how long, I finally had chilled out and decided to go to bed.  She was already asleep, so I quietly snuck into bed and promptly went to sleep myself.  When I awoke the next day, she was still asleep, so I quietly arose, got dressed, made coffee for her, and then ate my breakfast.  After eating, I quietly tiptoed out the door and left for work.  It was a beautiful morning.  I briefly wondered why I never told anyone how happy I was.  I shrugged it off—it was a guy thing. Everyone knew anyway.

As I drove to work, I was singing Christmas carols.  I was in the Christmas spirit.  Even though we had no money, I was busy thinking of things that we could do for free.  There was a Christmas special on television that night.  We could take a drive in my truck and see the beautiful Christmas lights.  Although my truck was having a few problems, I had been successful at keeping it running. It would probably last another 100,000 miles if I kept at it.  Life was good.

When I got home that night, she seemed to be a little upset.  When she got upset, it was always best to give her a little space.  When she wanted to talk, she would.  But in the meanwhile, just let it be.  I had the feeling that her mood had to do with the bills.  Perhaps she received another of those pesky collection calls?  I’d take care of the bills, I assured her and then went to watch television and chill out.   I wish the collectors would listen. I would take care of the bills without their never-ending nuisance calls.

On Christmas Eve, we went to midnight Mass.  It was beautiful.  I loved Christmas Mass with the beautiful carols, the readings, and the sermon.  Everyone was always so cheerful at the service.  It was one of the best times of year.  I noticed that she had tears in her eyes.  She must have been moved by the service too!  At the time for the sign of peace, we hugged, and kissed.  She was as happy as I was.  I was so glad.

On Christmas morning, I woke early and cooked breakfast for her.  I made a special breakfast and even baked some muffins.  I usually have lots of protein for breakfast, but she loves her carbs, so I made sure the breakfast had lots of carbohydrates, just for her.  The sounds of the breakfast cooking must have woken her up, because she got dressed and gave me a morning hug.  I poured her some coffee and then grabbed the present and set it down in front of her.  She kidded me about our agreement not to get presents, but I just told her that she needed to open the present and all would be well.

She tore open the present as eagerly as a kid at Christmas, and saw the box.  She looked stunned—a mixer?  But I told her to continue on.  I had filled a mixer box with all sorts of things—rocks, packing supplies, and other items to fill up and give the box some weight.  That way she could never guess what the present was. I was so mischievous.  But most importantly inside the box, I had placed a note that I had written as her present:

I love you.  Even though we cannot afford a present this year, you deserve a present.  You are the love of my life.  Together we can get through this troubling time. You are the best wife a husband could ever have.  I don’t know how you put up with me, but somehow you do.  I promise that by next year, we will have a beautiful Christmas tree with lots of presents. Regardless, it is not the presents that matter.  We are together.  I love you every day, more and more.

She loved the present.  She stood up and we hugged and kissed.  I think I found the perfect present that year, regardless of our financial situation. At least temporarily, money was not a concern.  I loved her so much, and would always try to give her everything that she deserved.  I think that year, I succeeded.

...and a very very belated Christmas and happy late winter doldrums to you!

P.S.  Here are today's "Daily Eagle" pics.  Incidentally, they are a couple, too.

I think this is Missus Eagle

So this must be Mister, doing his best totem pole imitation