My Motivation

I've been fighting the motivation monster for the last few weeks. I've managed to stay on track, but if I am honest with myself, I would have to say that I haven't been going out of my way to push myself beyond my comfort zone. I've struggled almost daily with fights between the work-out angel on one shoulder and the red-horned sloth on the other shoulder, and while the angel won most of the arguments, the sloth won on occasion as well. The worst part is, even though I hate to admit it, the onset of my lack of motivation was directly linked to my husband's departure on his most recent work trip.

I've spent most of my married life, saying "Goodbye" to my husband. Up until two years ago, he was an active duty military officer. Long separations were part of the territory. I learned early on that if I wanted to live a fulfilled, happy life, I could not spend my life simply "waiting" for my husband to come home. Instead, I developed my own strategy for survival. I allowed myself a "Poor, Pity Me Day"  complete with pajamas all day long, Twinkies, ice cream, sad movies, and take-out. If the separation was for longer than a month, I would allow myself a few "Poor, Pity Me Days", but then I would kick things into high gear filling my days with as much as possible. The busier the better to pass the time with. After 9/11, the separations became longer and longer. Ultimately after deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan, we decided that Chuck had served his country well and it was time to serve his family. So he retired from the military and took a job with a consulting firm.

In the new job, travel was still involved, but he always managed to make it home for the weekends, and since he wasn't being shot at by anyone, as things go, it was an improvement. Three weeks ago, however, he got a request to help on a proposal team, and for the first time since retiring, he was heading out on an extended trip. I didn't greet the news with a particularly supportive attitude, but once the initial dismay wore off, I thought to myself, "No problem, I've been doing this for years! What's one three week trip when I was already a veteran of year long absences!" 

So imagine my surprise when after a few days, I realized my "Poor Pity Me" strategy for coping that had served me well for 25 years wasn't working anymore. I had to push and prod myself to make my work-outs, push and prod myself to get out of the house when the work day was over, and push and prod myself to get stuff done around the house. I was confounded. Why couldn't I get out of my funk? Was this an empty nest thing?  Where was the woman who held down the home front while juggling kids, job, family support groups and the inevitable crises that arose when the spouses were away? I knew she was in there somewhere, but I was having a hard time finding her.

This past Monday I woke up and decided it was time to kick the attitude. After work I decided to hit a movie instead of staying home and as I sat in the theater waiting for it to start, it finally occurred to me that the problem wasn't that I had lost my ability to cope, I had simply lost my patience for it. When Chuck was on active duty, I lived with the expectation that he would leave for days, weeks, and months at a time, but when Chuck retired, I retired that expectation too, and with it the armor I had protected my heart with. It was an armor made up of a belief that while my husband served his country, I served it as well, only the service I provided was to keep the home front running so he could do his job without distractions.  I had packed that armor away with the uniforms and medals, and so in its absence, I found myself struggling to find meaning in a separation that didn't seem to have one. I could rise to the occasion for the greater good, but I was finding it difficult to rise to the occasion to support a paycheck; however, appreciative I was for it.

And just like that I found my motivation again. This wasn't about a paycheck, this was about a person. This was about supporting the person who always supported me. If this trip was important to Chuck, it was important to me too. The next day, I kicked @#$ on the Kettles, and even made it to another movie after work with friends. I was back on track just in time for my husband's return, and I had found a new armor for this second phase of our lives. Hopefully, I won't have to take it out much, but it was nice to know it was there if I needed it.