I've been quiet in this space for a while and I'll tell you the reason in another post down the track. October 16 is a regular checkin date for me. I've been blogging for many years and it has become a moment to reflect and take stock. Recording a journey that Peter and I have found ourselves on.
The last 12 months have been hard. At the beginning of 2017 we contemplated the awful thought of selling our home due to financial hardship. The stress of this time took it's toll on both of us in different ways. I understand why money worries can drive a wedge between people. When you're drowning you don't know if it's better to give up and go under or cling to each other possibly taking someone else down with you. There seemed so little chance to breath and there were very few moments without a real feeling of dread and worry. But...one gulp of air at a time we managed to keep our heads above water. Many negotiations and payment plans, a bit of refinancing and a moment to exhale. It took a really long time for the feeling of constant worry to leave me.
During this time I had wondered how you know when you're enduring a really rough patch or is it a breaking point. I feel lucky to display qualities of the 'non giving up guy' from Terminator 2. There are times when sheer stubbornness comes in handy. And so we lurched to another punch in the face. Peter marginally missed out on a short term contract which financially would have been incredibly helpful. His response to the disappointment made me share an online mental health article with him. In it he saw himself, as I had. More research and reading and an eventual confirmation from his psych meant we had a diagnosis a little more complicated than depression and anxiety. But with it came a new way forward and treatment plan. We unfortunately needed to accept money from Peter's parents to help pay for the health insurance to get him into a program. We then waited most of the year for a spot to become available. The answer to my question at the beginning of this paragraph is that a breaking point can be reached when you can't see any way forward. A rough patch is when everyone is still hopeful and trying to find a path ahead.
Peter's Mum was then diagnosed with something incurable and has spent most of 2017 shuffled between doctors, hospitals, aged care facilities and ambulances. There is a feeling of helplessness and lots of waiting that comes with this sort of diagnosis. We have spent the latter half of the year knowing 'anything could happen at any time' which was what a specialist at the hospital told Peter's Mum. Peter is actually doing a remarkable job of helping support both his folks. It's moments like this that the tyranny of distance of living over 3 hours away weighs heavily. But via phone calls and visits Peter gave his Dad cooking lessons and helped him catch up with how washing machines worked. All I can do is offer hugs and keep hold of Peter's hand.
There is much debate online about the seven year itch. The general thought is that at this point in a relationship outside stresses take the focus away from each other. People lose sight of themselves amongst the hardship or routine. I can see how this happens. Easily. In reality it can seem easier to let go rather than hang on. The last year of our marriage has been about living one day at a time. We aren't in a place to plan long term. We only take a step forward each day as we get out of bed. Sometimes getting through that day seems like an achievement.
I've been listening to Jen Cloher's album recently. The last song had me crying quietly in my car. Dark Art is about loving someone through the harder moments as well as the good, through all the complexity that life can throw at you and weathering it together. It seemed a song just for us.
I had wanted to go out for dinner on our anniversary. It fell on a Monday, not a traditional day for going out on the town. We didn't make plans and as Sunday approached I'd hoped we could still do something fun. So we went to our local cafe which we love and drank lunchtime cocktails with a bite to eat. We bought a bottle of champagne to drink with dinner at home on Monday. Peter also got me a card and a present. All I brought home was vegan brie cheese and wanky posh crackers with chia and quinoa. I think it's important to mark dates. Even when you don't have the brain space to celebrate and go out. It's important to see each year (particularly a really hard year) as an achievement and raise a glass of champagne to ourselves.
On our seventh anniversary I understand and appreciate the wonders of a hug. The closeness felt when burying your face into the chest of someone you love deeply. When eating cheese and drinking champagne on a Monday night while you both make dinner feels like a special occasion. When taking one step forward each day down a hard and difficult path is still a way forward. Together. Seven.
The last 12 months have been hard. At the beginning of 2017 we contemplated the awful thought of selling our home due to financial hardship. The stress of this time took it's toll on both of us in different ways. I understand why money worries can drive a wedge between people. When you're drowning you don't know if it's better to give up and go under or cling to each other possibly taking someone else down with you. There seemed so little chance to breath and there were very few moments without a real feeling of dread and worry. But...one gulp of air at a time we managed to keep our heads above water. Many negotiations and payment plans, a bit of refinancing and a moment to exhale. It took a really long time for the feeling of constant worry to leave me.
During this time I had wondered how you know when you're enduring a really rough patch or is it a breaking point. I feel lucky to display qualities of the 'non giving up guy' from Terminator 2. There are times when sheer stubbornness comes in handy. And so we lurched to another punch in the face. Peter marginally missed out on a short term contract which financially would have been incredibly helpful. His response to the disappointment made me share an online mental health article with him. In it he saw himself, as I had. More research and reading and an eventual confirmation from his psych meant we had a diagnosis a little more complicated than depression and anxiety. But with it came a new way forward and treatment plan. We unfortunately needed to accept money from Peter's parents to help pay for the health insurance to get him into a program. We then waited most of the year for a spot to become available. The answer to my question at the beginning of this paragraph is that a breaking point can be reached when you can't see any way forward. A rough patch is when everyone is still hopeful and trying to find a path ahead.
Peter's Mum was then diagnosed with something incurable and has spent most of 2017 shuffled between doctors, hospitals, aged care facilities and ambulances. There is a feeling of helplessness and lots of waiting that comes with this sort of diagnosis. We have spent the latter half of the year knowing 'anything could happen at any time' which was what a specialist at the hospital told Peter's Mum. Peter is actually doing a remarkable job of helping support both his folks. It's moments like this that the tyranny of distance of living over 3 hours away weighs heavily. But via phone calls and visits Peter gave his Dad cooking lessons and helped him catch up with how washing machines worked. All I can do is offer hugs and keep hold of Peter's hand.
There is much debate online about the seven year itch. The general thought is that at this point in a relationship outside stresses take the focus away from each other. People lose sight of themselves amongst the hardship or routine. I can see how this happens. Easily. In reality it can seem easier to let go rather than hang on. The last year of our marriage has been about living one day at a time. We aren't in a place to plan long term. We only take a step forward each day as we get out of bed. Sometimes getting through that day seems like an achievement.
I've been listening to Jen Cloher's album recently. The last song had me crying quietly in my car. Dark Art is about loving someone through the harder moments as well as the good, through all the complexity that life can throw at you and weathering it together. It seemed a song just for us.
I had wanted to go out for dinner on our anniversary. It fell on a Monday, not a traditional day for going out on the town. We didn't make plans and as Sunday approached I'd hoped we could still do something fun. So we went to our local cafe which we love and drank lunchtime cocktails with a bite to eat. We bought a bottle of champagne to drink with dinner at home on Monday. Peter also got me a card and a present. All I brought home was vegan brie cheese and wanky posh crackers with chia and quinoa. I think it's important to mark dates. Even when you don't have the brain space to celebrate and go out. It's important to see each year (particularly a really hard year) as an achievement and raise a glass of champagne to ourselves.
On our seventh anniversary I understand and appreciate the wonders of a hug. The closeness felt when burying your face into the chest of someone you love deeply. When eating cheese and drinking champagne on a Monday night while you both make dinner feels like a special occasion. When taking one step forward each day down a hard and difficult path is still a way forward. Together. Seven.
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