My husband used to be so motivated. The grass never grew under his feet. Any projects that had to be done were taken care of immediately and he would try anything. He didn't always know what he was doing but he was willing to learn. We are not wealthy and when you own a home you either figure some simple things out or get ready to shell out money for EVERYTHING. One thing I've learned is that eventually things you don't even know are IN your home will need repairs or replacement.
The last few years he became a huge procrastinator. We've had things that needed fixing that have been put on the back burner literally for years. The kids would ask for something or ask when something was going to get fixed and he would say, "I'll get to it." At some point, they learned that meant it was not getting done. Ever. If they hear those words come out of his mouth it's as good as a lie.
I had cleared out my daughter's room the other day. Some of her furniture was in our bedroom and some was in the hallway. Our upstairs is VERY small. The kids' rooms are huge because we put an addition on and doubled their bedrooms but the original part of our house is tiny. This is the source of my anxiety when I undertake projects. The work doesn't scare me but navigating the crammed in junk does. I feel like everywhere I turn there is "stuff." I like organization. Everything has a place in my home. I'm not neurotic and I can deal with a mess but I know that that mess will eventually find it's way back to it's rightful place so that makes me able to cope.
I told my husband that my daughter's bed needed to be disassembled and brought to the attic (well, at that point I said "thrown out the window" but we compromised and decided attic). I also told him the dresser and trunk needed to be brought up as well. Right away he balked. He told me he wouldn't work overtime and he would get out at three and bring it up the next day.
I know my husband. He had worked until 6 p.m. and he wanted to sit down with some supper and his glass of wine and relax after a long day at work. I get that. We are all tired at the end of the day and the last thing we want to do in the evening is move furniture around or work some more. I really understood it but come on, this stuff has to be done. It's a half hour work right now or three hours lost overtime and the same amount of work the next day. It was his typical response to anything these days.
Then I heard him in the attic rearranging. He told me he was going to do that so I didn't think much of it. I went into my bedroom and noticed the trunk and mirror were gone. Next thing I knew he called me and asked if I could help bring up the dresser. Next the bed was apart and being whisked into the attic as well. Every little thing I had asked for was done. I didn't have to argue or beg or ask again.
I just went and hugged him and asked if he had changed his mind. He told me it was just easier to do it at that moment rather than put it off until tomorrow. It wasn't going to be any easier then. He said at the end of a long day he was tired and just wanted to relax but realized he would just wait for another half hour and have the rest of the night to do that. He told me that now the room was cleared so when I had to paint that half it would be easier.
I was thrilled. THIS is my husband. This rational man who knows that when there are things to be done, ultimately, he and I are the only ones to do them. I felt his procrastinating was a symptom of depression. I told him that a million times and recommended he see a doctor. Depression runs in his family and let's face it, even if it didn't, who wouldn't be depressed in the situation we were in?
This week I see my old guy emerging. He is hopeful. He speaks of plans for the future. For so long he didn't talk about anything we would be doing. I think he knew if things didn't change we would be doing things in our living room only. His sense of humor is slowly emerging. When the kids are not immediately cooperative I see him trying to be patient rather than snapping. He is trying to find compromise with them rather than "win." He's excited about the projects going on around the house and told me he can't wait to get home from work today and get her room put together because he knows she's going to love it.
I am hopeful. I feel a sense of adventure looking toward our future that I though was dead. I had lost my ability to dream or care. I didn't look forward to anything because it only led to disappointment. I didn't make plans because I was let down when they didn't work out. I feel lighter now. I'm slowly beginning to trust again because his actions are speaking to me rather than his empty words. Like the phoenix, from the ashes, we can emerge.
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