Indecision

I just realized that the problem I’m having with my marriage is that I still want to live as a single person. After nearly 12 years of marriage, I am still not used to having to wait for another person before I go ahead with a plan.

I married at 34-and-½ years old, and all my life I pretty much did whatever I wanted. That didn’t cause me too many disciplinary problems at school or at home, since whatever I chose to do was always lawful, decent, and reasonable.

But I find myself now married to a person who also lived his life as I did, at his own whim. A good, smart kid, he always made sound decisions and his parents trusted him to follow his own path.

These two good kids got married and both make reasonable plans and discuss well thought out visions of life. We always have good options to choose from, but we are two different people and one of us has to give in. We are not used to giving in. Neither of us is.

So, in my case, not only do I have to get ready to give in. But I have to wait for days, weeks, or even months for him to make up his mind. And this kills me. I have always been the type to decide and do.

In other words, if it had been me alone way back in November who decided to sell the house and move, I would probably already be living at the new house.

My husband, on the other hand, is just now getting excited with the prospect of moving. After nearly three months of toying with the idea, he is now on board full time. By now, I am tired of thinking about it. I am tired of deliberating, should we live at the north or at the south? Should we take a mortgage or go cheap? Should we this? Should we that?

I am just about ready to move on to something else. And now he wants to think house, house, when I am out of steam, when I couldn’t care less anymore.

Maybe that’s the reason that I have become so not me. In the past I dreamed, I planed, and I went for it. There was no delay button. I just went.

Now, it is almost as if I’ve lost the ability to dream. Why bother dreaming? I’ll wake up, go to sleep again, and wake up, and my husband will still not know if my opinion is worth considering.

Frankly, I don’t think he can be changed. That’s who he is. And I shouldn’t have to change either that’s me. There is, apparently, no solution to my problem. But there has to be a way for that awesome man and this remarkable woman to find some balance. I just haven’t figured out the way yet.

I ignore if it will help, but perhaps I need to get a job. Sometimes I think that I should work in retail or get some other low-paying job, but making minimum salary will just increase our taxes, and the little extra money would not be enough to compensate us for the many homemade, healthy meals and other stuff that I do because I can be home doing the work: sewing window treatments, making tablecloths, repairing clothes, making homemade bread, ice cream, pies, soy milk, etc.

I truly don’t know what to do. But I need to find my spark again. I’m pretty sure that this complacency I’ve settled for is low-grade depression: barely noticeable but existing and nagging.