15 May 12
We’re stuck. Really stuck. Our truck has broken down, Johnny is leaving, and we’re not welcome to stay at La Hacienda (or — as we jokingly call it — “Johnnystan”) any longer.
I moved the truck to the lot next door, and there it may stay for a long time. David and I aren’t communicating really well at the moment. We can’t discuss whether we need to find a mechanic or give up on the beast. David showed me oil in the radiator which indicates a cracked engine head — not good, he said.
So we’re stuck. Right here.
I don’t know what’s going to happen. I can’t imagine living here without being able to change the scenery around us. This place isn’t a safe haven without Johnny to welcome us and community to help us out.
And there are practical matters that overwhelm me. I don’t know how we will stock up on shopping without being able to visit the supermarket ourselves.
At this time, communicating with David beyond the mundane tasks of household management seems really difficult. We aren’t talking well when we’re together, and we aren’t actually together that often.
I’ve spent the whole day today in bed — unable to tend to anyone except Elijah. (This really says something about how wonderful David is — he can manage the whole family without me if I choose to stay in bed and do nothing!) It’s a weak cop-out on life, but I lack the energy to give anything more at the moment. Or that’s my excuse anyway.
I’m terrified that we will be stuck here for about a month. I’m terrified that I don’t have enough passion to pursue an intense love affair with my husband. And I’m afraid that I’ll slip back into the morass of the dark spaces of my mind.
As these fears cripple me, I’m left waiting for David to find a solution for our family. This is hardly fair on him, I know, but I’ve deferred to him for so many years with these kinds of practical matters, that I can’t see an alternative.
Until David does something — or until I do something, we’re stuck, and that doesn’t sound so sparkling to me. Help!