When Brett left for however long to go to Africa, I got heaps done around the house. All of us present at the time remarked on my productivity. What was this new leaf I had turned? Then Brett came home and I went back to being a slug, struggling to complete everyday tasks.
This trip was no different. My calendar burst at the seams with options and accomplishments. I took on small projects for a couple nonprofit organizations, applied for a job and had a first interview, painted all the trim in the house, redid the patio floor, hosted a social hour for my volunteer group, walked the dogs twice each day, and still managed to cook myself proper meals (right up until the end there). I wasn't even watching TV at night. I was reading - like an adult would be doing!
Then Brett came home. And oh how I wanted him home. Life is so bland without him. But that first day, he woke up and set about how he wanted to use his day and I found myself becoming increasingly irritated. The sensation shocked me and I had to retreat into my sticky inner-workings to figure out why I was annoyed that precious, peaceful, wonderful Brett's presence was present.
I did not want to walk the dogs. I already had a dog walking schedule going and his suggestion felt like an attack on the highly effective dog strategy I had been using for two weeks. I'm not a morning person and don't like to participate in physical activity before breakfast. He knows this about me. Why would I want to walk the dogs? Has he even considered me? Doesn't he know we can take care of this later?
My calendar was suspiciously empty all the days ofter the one marked 'Brett Home!' I flipped back to the pages from the last two weeks and combed through the chaotic scribbles to look for jobs to do, anything I may have missed. But there was nothing. Meanwhile, Brett was very busy. He had to unpack, catch up on work emails, visit his parents, pickup something from somewhere. He even went surfing one morning. And I followed him around; running errands, grocery shopping, sitting bundled up on the windy beach while he surfed, scrolling instagram while he had a quick work call, but I was stupefied. Angry at my unreasonability. Thrilled to have Brett home. Disgusted with my vanishing drive. I retreated back to my sticky inner-workings.
"Why you mad?" I asked myself.
Because I was handling everything fine; quickly, easily, on my own schedule and now everything takes twice as long and has extra obstacles. But surely that's just the price of living with another human; spouse or otherwise. It's not a reflection of marrying a doofus.
Ok, so why are you doing nothing now that he's home?
Because I don't want to be busy when he might be available to go play. And because he'll have lots of opinions on how I go about painting the trim or redoing the patio. He's liable to mansplain, my own project to me. Because I can't really deep focus when he's always coming around asking questions ("Do we have any quarters anywhere? Have you seen my glasses? What day do I have jury duty?") or running his plans past me for confirmation, and suggesting we walk the dogs or run some errands now before his 11:00 call or his 3:00 appointment. Because I do want to do those things with him when we can! Because I love him!
"If my desire is to spend as much time with him as possible, which it is, then I need to operate around his schedule." Hence my empty calendar and inability to things when he's around. I scoffed at this, hating it for multiple reasons. What am I, a schoolgirl with a crush?
"What?"
"I like having you around. I don't need you around. I'm better without you. You hold me back."