Half of the tree in front of our yard fell down. It’s been slowly dying for awhile from some kind of citrus fungus or disease. Today, it’s been gusting and raining a lot. I came home from running some errands to see half the tree lying across the sidewalk leading up to the front door. The bright side? At least it didn’t fall on the roof.
On one hand, I feel relieved to finally be forced to address the tree situation. On the other hand, it’s the last thing I want to do on a Sunday after spending all day yesterday out and about between a trip to MegaCon, dinner with friends, and the Gasparilla Night Parade.
When I called to let my husband know I just kind of lost it. I know he’s busy moving stuff from his friend’s house to his parents’ house today, but it seemed like once again this was a problem for me alone to address. Heaven forbid I should want him to assist or help in any way. I hung up after not getting far in our discussion and just sat on the floor in the kitchen and cried.
It’s just another one of a million things that we have to take care of around the house that neither one of us has the time or inclination to do. I wish sometimes that I lived in an apartment or a condo. The American Dream? Not for everyone. I’d rather have someone else taking care of all this stuff. It feels like too much responsibility and effort.
His advice? Snap out of it. I’m trying. I try hard to keep an even keel, but it’s sometimes a losing battle. Unfortunately, I loathe myself when I snap and my husband feels the brunt of my anger, confusion, and depression, but that doesn’t mean I can stop it from happening. A self-propagating cycle of bad moods, depression, and frustration that makes me feel even more defeated and down.
I’m sure there’s a way through this, but I honestly don’t know what it is. I try to just keep going each day and hope that one day the clouds will dissipate.
Hey Readers – say something positive in the comments, okay?