Tuesday, April 4, 2017


I've been having such a hard time lately. The hardest time I remember having in a long time and, well, I have no idea how to get back to a happy place. Zero idea. It's a deep, dark funk and I'm stuck. All the way stuck.

In fact, I had such a hard week last week that I about turned-tail and ran my ass right back to Texas. It's the last place I remember being happy. It's my home, even though we left almost two years ago. I want to go home. That its not even close to being an option, that didn't matter last week.

I spent the whole week obsessing about whether or not I could, feasibly, go back to Texas and how that work work with Matt staying in Utah. The logistics would be a nightmare, but last week, I'd have been willing to accept that. I was in a dark, dark hole and going back to Texas was the only way I could see to climb out.

I have friends there who would let me stay with them. I could get a job and pay them rent. I still have a Texas drivers license. I could see myself going. Matt wouldn't entertain the idea, because, you know, it's ludicrous. He wouldn't even discuss it except to say that someday, maybe, WE would go back there. We. Not me, but we.

This week, I can see how crazy that is. Except the thought still lingers, even now. But you know, Matt is a whole lot of what made Texas my home. Without him in it, I don't know that I want to go back.... at least that's how I feel in my more sane moments. In the moments when I'm more tired or more depressed, I think I could do it. I could go back.

The whole crazy scheme is fed by the fact that we don't see one another much, working opposite shifts. And soon, his shift will change and we'll see one another even less. It's so incredibly hard. I know there are women who manage to get by without seeing their husbands for long periods of time and still stay sane, and happy, but I'm never going to be one of those women. I need for us to spend time together.

Not seeing one another leads me down the dark path where I feel like if I can't see my husband, I might as well have something and Texas is that something. My brain says, "you don't see one another much now, and you're miserable in Utah." I tell myself that maybe Texas would make me happy again, at least in some small aspect, and that would allow me to gain a little control over my life.

Because, ya know, I don't have any of that right now. Control over my life. I go where Matt goes, I do what Matt wants to do, and I wonder when the last time I did something for myself was. And, I can't remember, at first... then I remember 1999, when I moved to Texas. That was it. That was the last time something was at least a little bit about me.

Then the cycle starts over. This week, I know it's not an option. Because, well, it's not. I want to be close to my husband, I want to see him when I can and find a way to see him more, and there isn't any way that could happen if we're living 1,200 miles apart. So, I'm here and I'm looking for something.

Nothing yet, but maybe tomorrow that something will occur to me. Maybe.


  1. Ohhh, Kristyn. Have you shaken off this dark glum feeling since this post?

    I had it in my head that Utah was awesome and beautiful and exactly the fresh start you and Matt needed. I didn't realize you were struggling. :-(

    1. The short answer seems to just be no. And yes. When we first moved to Utah, I was okay here. I found a lot of things I liked about it, but as the last two years have gone on, some of the shiny newness of living in a new place has worn off. The people are generally nice, but they're also passive aggressively not nice, too. If you're not LDS, trying to live here has its challenges. The weather in the winter is brutal. We had an immense amount of snow last winter, which comes with special challenges and makes my depression much worse.

      The last place I worked before my current job was a "Utah company" and it was impossible to move up there if you weren't LDS. They never came right out and said so, but they only promoted people who were LDS and most of the leadership there was 25 years old or there about--and most unqualified for leadership in any way. I'm never going to be LDS and I'm never going to be 25 again, so I left. It's a kind of discrimination I didn't deal with at all in TX.

      And, most of my friends are in Texas. So, I'm a little lonely here, which makes it hard. Add to all that that Matt and I work opposite shifts, and therefore almost never see one another, and I'm feeling pretty low a lot of the time. I can't seem to find another job that pays as well as the one I currently have, so I can't change, and Matt loves his job. Soon, his shift will change, but in such a way that we will have even less time together.

      So, yes. And no.

  2. Holy geez. I am so sorry. I totally get the weather-thing. I never realized how weather-sensitive I am until I lived in Wisconsin. Like you, we had a particularly rough winter too, and by March I was so over the snow and the gray...it really started jacking with my moods. At that time Clint also worked the graveyard shift (six days on, one day off), so we had no life as a married couple. Not to mention the loss of family/friends. You have the added issue of the whole LDS thing (and I can not STAND sugary-sweet "nice"), so that makes it even worse. I totally get it. I wish I could give you advice or tell you to "give it time, it'll get better," but I moved from Wisconsin after 18 months, so I don't know if I ever would have gotten over the homesickness and winter blues.

    Are you sure you don't want to just convert over to LDS? Matt could have his own planet and you could make babies forever! :-P

    But seriously, I hope things get better soon. Maybe see if there are any local Facebook groups you can join, just to meet some new people. Clint and I plan to buy a house in the mountains in the next couple years, so I recently joined their local 'social/classifieds' group and have already met some great people.

    Okay, I'll shut-up now. Hang in there and try to focus on the positive things (like your adorable--albeit messy--house).