I think the rage is starting. Last week I got unreasonably mad at a shelf I was trying to install in the laundry closet. I had to work around the laundry machine and the lip of the door frame, giving me only a few inches. The drill barely fit. I had to undo it and redo it twice. In between those times I slammed the drill down on the rug in frustration, probably surprising the downstairs neighbors. Installing that shelf wasn't even necessary, the detergent fits on top of the dryer, and it took me well over an hour when it should have taken ten minutes. Then I had to clean my mess, then I reorganized the tool bag because husband tosses whatever he uses back in without looking.
Today I scooted into work, a 35-45 minute drive in the mornings depending on construction and how lucky I get with lights. Today was a 45 minute day because I hit a lot of yellow lights. It would have taken me 20 minutes if I could go on the freeway. I'm looking for a car but used cars are still so expensive. And if I want something that hasn't been in an accident, has fewer than 150,000 miles, and is under ten years old, it's at least another grand for each of those qualifications. I'll probably end up spending at least $15,000 for a nine or ten year old car with at least 100,000 miles and it probably won't be in a color I want because I'm being picky about all the other things. And that will make me a little sad every time I drive it. I'm currently holding out for a stick because I really miss it. But that's further limiting the options.
It's not a rush. I have my scooter, I can get almost anywhere I need to go and do almost anything I need to do. But I'm starting to kind of hate scooting now that I have to do it three times a week for such a long commute. I hate getting gas because the pump automatically shuts off halfway through and I have to pump two-tenths of a gallon at a time (luckily I only have a gallon tank). I hate how most lights don't recognize my size or weight, so I have to wait until a car pulls up behind me or take a risky or illegal turn (which I do because one particular intersection doesn't get a lot of other cars). I hate that other drivers can't be bothered to watch the road while they're driving their multi-ton cars and trucks and that I have close calls because they're more interested in watching videos on their phone. I can't even listen to an audio book because I can't risk being even a tiny bit distracted on two wheels.
I wouldn't even be thinking of buying a car if I didn't have this job that requires me to commute to an office three times a week (for the "culture" of a soul-less building in the middle of nowhere, no public transportation options, no view, no amenities, for in-person meetings but only about work and not about fun topics, and deal with pantry moths and larvae in the candy bucket which is never cleaned and an HVAC system that's repaired every other month). When I took the job the in-person requirement was twice a week. That was doable. It was worth it. It was a good balance for my role that does benefit from in-person communication and interaction. But then they changed it to three days and that third day is having a much bigger impact on my time and mood. And finances, if I end up buying a car. I just bought a house and already have double the expenses I used to have. I have some savings still but we need to fix the leaks in the entry and office, and I don't know if insurance will cover either of them. And even if insurance covered everything, my savings isn't enough to buy anything worthwhile outright, so I'll have to finance some of it. And rates still suck, even with my stellar credit (why even have good credit??).
I don't even want this job, so it feels silly to be considering such a big purchase to make it easier to get to this job. What am I even doing with my life? I can see the impact my role has on the team but I've never experienced a team that's this resistant not only to stepping in when needed but even doing the basics of their own jobs. And it's seemingly OK — supervisors know and are either supportive or minimizing. But that's not even the part I hate most. I don't feel like I have any meaning in the thing I'm doing for 8 hours every day. For a while I could tell myself that helping patients find quality healthcare was noble, but I'm so removed from seeing my connection to patients. And I don't really care. I miss having a mission. I'm nervous about joining another nonprofit because of how toxic the last one was but I feel like I'm just getting through the days. I enjoy the tasks I do and take pride in getting through the most unreachable people on the team, and I hear how valued I am all the time now which almost makes me cry because of how little I heard that my entire career (like, so much negative self talk and imposter syndrome over the last 16 years). But I don't have something else to provide the meaning I'm looking for and I'm not sure what to do about it other than find a more meaningful job.
There's also AI that's making getting a job feel nearly impossible. And even if I do, how long would it last before AI takes it? Or would I have to settle for a 20% pay cut to have a more meaningful job because if AI can probably do it, it must not be worth paying a living wage to a human? I was rejected for a 20% pay cut job at a nonprofit for a role that was part project management and part writing, literally my resume (except that most of my titles have SEO, which can be hard to overlook even though that wasn't *exactly* what I was doing). So what even am I qualified for? Writing jobs are probably gone, except for freelancers fixing AI mistakes, PM jobs need certifications I don't want, and I can't get back into SEO now even if it wouldn't throw me into a total depression. I don't know what I want to do. If I didn't have to work I'd write. Which I can do now. But to what end? Can I publish a book? Can I somehow get paid for writing when so many extremely talented professionals are making better pitches? I know it's possible to start over at 40 but it takes a lot of work. And it would mean asking husband to go back to the life we had when I was in school, which he already did for a few years. Which makes me feel guilty, then ashamed for feeling guilty.
Husband and I have been enjoying the process of doing things for our house. We discuss and agree on fixtures and additions, sometimes deferring completely to the other person if they care more. We spent Valentine's Day painting accent walls in our living room and bedroom. We chose photos (even a couple I took!) to print and frames to put them in. We bought bath sheets (so large and luxurious) in fun colors. We both admire the abundant natural light in our own ways. But lately it's felt like that's the only thing we have in common. The awake time we spend together is either cooking or watching TV and movies. Probably the thing we share most is a walk to get coffee on the weekend. But it started as my thing because husband is one of those mutants who isn't affected by caffeine and we'd gotten into a few fights over my need for it. So I always pay when we go. Which used to be fine because we used to get a beer once or twice a month and he'd always pay for it. But we don't do that anymore. Not just because of celiac, it would have fallen off naturally. He likes being home. Drinking at home is comfier and cheaper and I can't even drink more than a glass of wine anymore without getting a stomach ache. And he can watch something. Most of the time I'm OK doing that, too, but occasionally it starts to feel like that's all we do. I've been good about prioritizing reading lately, but I have to do it on my own time. I can share in the movies he likes but he can't share in the books I like. Even when I recommend a book I think he'd enjoy he almost never reads it. Part of that is because I've recommended books that turn into movies and he won't read it if he watches the movie. If we do have non-TV time he'll play a game while I read. Which is fine, I like that we can do independent things together. But maybe we're too independent. We exist totally fine separately. We share friends but if we broke up there would be a very clear line. He'd let me take the rabbits. He might be lonelier for a while but sometimes I think he'd be happier. He has a lot of single friends, he has work that he loves and that regularly fills his evenings. The last card he gave me said he admired that I call him on his bullshit. Which I do. No one else does, so I think he resents it a little. Why can't I admire him the way everyone else does? Shouldn't I admire him more than strangers do? Is that my best quality?
He insists that rest time is essential to being productive and creative. I agree wholeheartedly. But can't seem to have that for myself, so I end up exhausted. I took yesterday off because I was genuinely tired, had a tummy ache, and had a lot to do. I didn't rest other than reading as I ate lunch. So today I'm exhausted. And I got up at 5:30 with the intention of getting into work by 7. I left a little late because husband woke up and told me about a lunar eclipse last night, saying that he didn't want to wake me for it because I get grumpy. I don't think there's ever been a time he woke me up for some lunar event or storm or anything and I was grumpy, but there was probably at least one time. So then I felt bad about myself. And for the hundredth time I asked if he could tell me when I'm being grumpy so I can recognize it. And I'll probably ask another hundred times because he doesn't want to say anything. Except that he does, just weeks or months or years later. By then I can't do anything other than apologize for something I didn't know I did and wonder what else I do that he doesn't like. All I do is call him on his bullshit and he won't do the same to me either because he feels he can't or he just doesn't want to. So when we get into an argument he tells me these things. And I don't really know what to do with it. I obviously don't recognize this behavior when I'm doing it, so all I can do is feel bad that it happened when I didn't notice. And then feel bad that I missed out on something because he didn't think it was worth the risk to share it with me. And that's another thing we don't get to experience together.
It's times like these I wonder what I bring to the relationship. Other than paying half the mortgage and taking care of the bunnies and being a backup for household duties. He has a lot of limitations because of me. He knew I didn't eat a lot of meat when we started dating so I don't feel bad about that, but now I also can't have wheat and that's been pretty annoying. I treat it like an allergy, so while he can eat what he wants when we eat separately, I pay attention to whether he eats a burrito on my napkin, whether he washes or at least wipes his hands before touching things (wipe yes, wash no, so I disinfect the remote pretty regularly and wipe down handles), whether he rinses out his mouth before kissing me. Between this and the level of cleanliness I adopted since Covid, I'm always asking whether something has been cleaned. I hate saying it and I can imagine how much he hates hearing it. We once got into a massive fight because I asked him to wash his hands before we had sex. Being clean before being intimate is a turn on, so why was it so insulting? Now I try my best to either trust or hope. But I can't even imagine the fallout if I get an infection.
I wouldn't even be thinking of buying a car if I didn't have this job that requires me to commute to an office three times a week (for the "culture" of a soul-less building in the middle of nowhere, no public transportation options, no view, no amenities, for in-person meetings but only about work and not about fun topics, and deal with pantry moths and larvae in the candy bucket which is never cleaned and an HVAC system that's repaired every other month). When I took the job the in-person requirement was twice a week. That was doable. It was worth it. It was a good balance for my role that does benefit from in-person communication and interaction. But then they changed it to three days and that third day is having a much bigger impact on my time and mood. And finances, if I end up buying a car. I just bought a house and already have double the expenses I used to have. I have some savings still but we need to fix the leaks in the entry and office, and I don't know if insurance will cover either of them. And even if insurance covered everything, my savings isn't enough to buy anything worthwhile outright, so I'll have to finance some of it. And rates still suck, even with my stellar credit (why even have good credit??).
I don't even want this job, so it feels silly to be considering such a big purchase to make it easier to get to this job. What am I even doing with my life? I can see the impact my role has on the team but I've never experienced a team that's this resistant not only to stepping in when needed but even doing the basics of their own jobs. And it's seemingly OK — supervisors know and are either supportive or minimizing. But that's not even the part I hate most. I don't feel like I have any meaning in the thing I'm doing for 8 hours every day. For a while I could tell myself that helping patients find quality healthcare was noble, but I'm so removed from seeing my connection to patients. And I don't really care. I miss having a mission. I'm nervous about joining another nonprofit because of how toxic the last one was but I feel like I'm just getting through the days. I enjoy the tasks I do and take pride in getting through the most unreachable people on the team, and I hear how valued I am all the time now which almost makes me cry because of how little I heard that my entire career (like, so much negative self talk and imposter syndrome over the last 16 years). But I don't have something else to provide the meaning I'm looking for and I'm not sure what to do about it other than find a more meaningful job.
There's also AI that's making getting a job feel nearly impossible. And even if I do, how long would it last before AI takes it? Or would I have to settle for a 20% pay cut to have a more meaningful job because if AI can probably do it, it must not be worth paying a living wage to a human? I was rejected for a 20% pay cut job at a nonprofit for a role that was part project management and part writing, literally my resume (except that most of my titles have SEO, which can be hard to overlook even though that wasn't *exactly* what I was doing). So what even am I qualified for? Writing jobs are probably gone, except for freelancers fixing AI mistakes, PM jobs need certifications I don't want, and I can't get back into SEO now even if it wouldn't throw me into a total depression. I don't know what I want to do. If I didn't have to work I'd write. Which I can do now. But to what end? Can I publish a book? Can I somehow get paid for writing when so many extremely talented professionals are making better pitches? I know it's possible to start over at 40 but it takes a lot of work. And it would mean asking husband to go back to the life we had when I was in school, which he already did for a few years. Which makes me feel guilty, then ashamed for feeling guilty.
Husband and I have been enjoying the process of doing things for our house. We discuss and agree on fixtures and additions, sometimes deferring completely to the other person if they care more. We spent Valentine's Day painting accent walls in our living room and bedroom. We chose photos (even a couple I took!) to print and frames to put them in. We bought bath sheets (so large and luxurious) in fun colors. We both admire the abundant natural light in our own ways. But lately it's felt like that's the only thing we have in common. The awake time we spend together is either cooking or watching TV and movies. Probably the thing we share most is a walk to get coffee on the weekend. But it started as my thing because husband is one of those mutants who isn't affected by caffeine and we'd gotten into a few fights over my need for it. So I always pay when we go. Which used to be fine because we used to get a beer once or twice a month and he'd always pay for it. But we don't do that anymore. Not just because of celiac, it would have fallen off naturally. He likes being home. Drinking at home is comfier and cheaper and I can't even drink more than a glass of wine anymore without getting a stomach ache. And he can watch something. Most of the time I'm OK doing that, too, but occasionally it starts to feel like that's all we do. I've been good about prioritizing reading lately, but I have to do it on my own time. I can share in the movies he likes but he can't share in the books I like. Even when I recommend a book I think he'd enjoy he almost never reads it. Part of that is because I've recommended books that turn into movies and he won't read it if he watches the movie. If we do have non-TV time he'll play a game while I read. Which is fine, I like that we can do independent things together. But maybe we're too independent. We exist totally fine separately. We share friends but if we broke up there would be a very clear line. He'd let me take the rabbits. He might be lonelier for a while but sometimes I think he'd be happier. He has a lot of single friends, he has work that he loves and that regularly fills his evenings. The last card he gave me said he admired that I call him on his bullshit. Which I do. No one else does, so I think he resents it a little. Why can't I admire him the way everyone else does? Shouldn't I admire him more than strangers do? Is that my best quality?
He insists that rest time is essential to being productive and creative. I agree wholeheartedly. But can't seem to have that for myself, so I end up exhausted. I took yesterday off because I was genuinely tired, had a tummy ache, and had a lot to do. I didn't rest other than reading as I ate lunch. So today I'm exhausted. And I got up at 5:30 with the intention of getting into work by 7. I left a little late because husband woke up and told me about a lunar eclipse last night, saying that he didn't want to wake me for it because I get grumpy. I don't think there's ever been a time he woke me up for some lunar event or storm or anything and I was grumpy, but there was probably at least one time. So then I felt bad about myself. And for the hundredth time I asked if he could tell me when I'm being grumpy so I can recognize it. And I'll probably ask another hundred times because he doesn't want to say anything. Except that he does, just weeks or months or years later. By then I can't do anything other than apologize for something I didn't know I did and wonder what else I do that he doesn't like. All I do is call him on his bullshit and he won't do the same to me either because he feels he can't or he just doesn't want to. So when we get into an argument he tells me these things. And I don't really know what to do with it. I obviously don't recognize this behavior when I'm doing it, so all I can do is feel bad that it happened when I didn't notice. And then feel bad that I missed out on something because he didn't think it was worth the risk to share it with me. And that's another thing we don't get to experience together.
It's times like these I wonder what I bring to the relationship. Other than paying half the mortgage and taking care of the bunnies and being a backup for household duties. He has a lot of limitations because of me. He knew I didn't eat a lot of meat when we started dating so I don't feel bad about that, but now I also can't have wheat and that's been pretty annoying. I treat it like an allergy, so while he can eat what he wants when we eat separately, I pay attention to whether he eats a burrito on my napkin, whether he washes or at least wipes his hands before touching things (wipe yes, wash no, so I disinfect the remote pretty regularly and wipe down handles), whether he rinses out his mouth before kissing me. Between this and the level of cleanliness I adopted since Covid, I'm always asking whether something has been cleaned. I hate saying it and I can imagine how much he hates hearing it. We once got into a massive fight because I asked him to wash his hands before we had sex. Being clean before being intimate is a turn on, so why was it so insulting? Now I try my best to either trust or hope. But I can't even imagine the fallout if I get an infection.
I'm reading a book right now that's sort of about perimenopause. I'm positive I'm in it even though I'm only 40. That's why I think the rage is starting. I never got so mad that I had to hit something. Or mad enough that I'd cry over basically nothing (sad enough, yes, but so mad I turned sad? No). This is when divorce happens and the more I read about perimenopause the more I get it. At least we don't have kids to argue about. And this is also why men who get divorced in their 40s and 50s end up dating and marrying much younger women, who have years before perimenopause. They miss what their first wives used to be, when they were more energetic and less defeated by the world. It's too much to deal with the onslaught of hormones through all that, and something has to go. It often ends up being the marriage. It's not like anyone understands this, so the men believe their wives just up and decided they didn't want to be married anymore.
I tell husband that some creative kind gorgeous woman would scoop him up. ("He'd follow anything with a casserole," from Modern Family, which is only partly a joke.) They'd have a lot of the same problems but maybe there would be more benefits. He could eat what he wanted without worrying about cross contamination. They could go to a brewery. They could get the good cookies from the good bakery. They'd have another few years probably before perimenopause hit her, so it'd be like it was new again. They'd have a dog instead of rabbits or rats. She'd understand his work and not pester him about why they don't travel even though they can't afford to or don't want to leave old pets. She'd know about movies and could have intelligent conversations about film and technique. Maybe they'd make one together. One that they'd keep, not delete immediately after watching once.
What would I do? Exile myself to rage and wallow and mourn. Perhaps I can still do that on occasion, since I don't actually want to be single. I don't want to rage, but I also don't want to have a period anymore, so I guess this is the price to pay. Meanwhile, I get to figure out how I want to spend the next 40 years in a world that is actively crumbling down around me and led by people who do not believe that breathable air is a human right or even remotely valuable, who will spend enormous sums on pointless war and deny any spending on healthcare, education, or housing, and argue that this is what makes us great. Most days I don't know whether we even have 40 more years, so maybe all this worrying and raging is for nothing.
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