Cliff’s notes on July 2016 to date

So…. I made it home from California. I cried in the plane going home. I wanted to stay and escape everything. The only thing that got me on that plane was the promise of a week at the beach a mere 7 days after my return – the opportunity to see both coasts in the same week.

Came home to a husband concerned about my state of mind. We had some heart-to-heart talks and made promises to make changes. And that was going to happen – just not how I planned.

I headed south to the beach with 2 kids. For the 2nd year running I had a beach house for 16 with 3 people in it. Ok – 4 when hubby came for 3 days of the week. Fine – I made the most of more time contemplating all the great life-changing things I was going to do.

Life changed the morning I left. I was up early, before coffee and the sun, to beat the traffic out of this heavily traveled resort area. Woke the kids, had 99% of the car packed. Shut off the last landing stairwell light. One kid behind me – another in front, and I missed the last landing step. Damned bifocals were exactly level with the edge of my view of the step and I assumed I had arrived at the landing. I fell, my left foot and leg twisting under me, my head slamming into the wall. Pain was instant and shocking. Kids later said they had never seen me cry before that day. Probably true.

5 minutes of writhing in pain later, I realized I had to make the 3 hour drive home alone. There was no logic in having anyone come down to get me. None in going to the local ER for treatment where my insurance would not cover anything. So the kids bolstered me up, I hopped down the remaining steps. They locked the beach house. I drove so they could drop off the keys. Then off we went, my leg locked in position while I drove first to drop off kid #1 then kid #2 then on to the ER where my limited insurance would provide superior care with the lowest possible out-of-pocket costs.

Called hubby en route. He met me in the ER – having gotten a ride with a neighbor. Diagnosis – badly broken ankle and knee. Too damaged for surgery that day. Sent home with some narcotics and a plan to see an orthopaedic surgeon on that Monday. Saw him – he scheduled surgery for Thursday. Had surgery – sent home same day (more about that later). I’m now 3 1/2 weeks post op. I’ve dealt with being totally unable to help myself do anything, including managing the bathroom (all of it) to dressing myself, to getting my own food and drink. Doing better now with wheelchair, but still totally dependent on husband. Apparently, this particular knee injury is devastating alone, let alone in conjunction with needing a 8in plate and 12 screws in your leg/ankle. I’ll be non-weight bearing for 8-10 weeks and then will start learning how to walk on this puppy again. Total rehab from what I can tell in the online forums is a shocking 4-22 months. People still have pain and swelling for years afterwards.

How’s that for change? At this point I’m sick of sitting. But when I stand, the swelling takes over pretty quickly. I’ve been back at work for about 2 1/2 weeks (no choice), and sitting all day without elevation is really no good. Working on fixing that.

Net effect: More change is coming. Thinking of selling some of my stake in the company to free myself up and to put the business into a good position for my exit. If I’m in for a long rehab, I still have a million things on my bucket list. I’ll share notes from the plane ride back from California soon.

Just Too Busy for Life in General

I can’t say I have had no time to blog, but rather that I have not found the time for it. Made the time for it.

So I’ve been on vacation for the past 7 days. OK, I’ve got 2 kids here and had the hubby here for a few days, but otherwise my time has been my own. I’m left realizing that like Anne Lindbergh, these weeks should be a solitary venture.

What I have had reinforced by this time is that I’m not living the life I want to live. I am busy beyond all reason. My work consumes everything, leaving me nothing to offer anyone outside of it. Despite my recent efforts to improve my strength via physical therapy – an act of desperation to save my knees – I don’t spend nearly enough time in the sunlight. I feel bound by so many responsibilities that really should not be mine. I feel responsible for outcomes of lives that are not my sole responsibility. I spend most of my days with so much internal chatter in my brain that I simply can no longer focus on anything effectively.

The sea takes all this away. The sound of the unrelenting surf is medidative – forcing me back to the present over and over again. The sun rising on the horizon reminds me of the nature of life – each day a new opportunity. I do not see this any longer in my home life. I see the start of each day as one filled with problems I cannot possibly solve and the fear that more money will have to be tossed at this nearly 4 year old endeavor. If I have to spend another $20,000 on something, it better be a trip to Fiji. But it won’t be.

I’m making an exit strategy, but it will take a while to put into play. We have threats and opportunities, and in the end, I’ve still got mid-6 figures riding in this. Hubby says it doesn’t matter and part of me believes him, but part of me knows that he won’t forget a failed investment of this magnitude. If only it didn’t take 10-12 hours of my day, every day, to keep it afloat. 3 days a week even – that would be tolerable.

I’ve spent this week seeing my husband here miserable with doing “nothing”. He’s hated carting kids back and forth to a pool or the beach, as they are too young to be left alone just yet at the beach anyway, given the shark attacks. He left yesterday, finally admitting he really didn’t like kids. Of course, I’ve known this for 26 years. Problem is that before they hit adolescence, I really like kids.

I’m lonely when he is here. I’m lonely when he’s not.

We’re going to have to find some common ground, he and I. He is happy and proud to see me work – but miserable seeing me depressed and overwhelmed. I just want to quit. I hate to even type the words, because it seems like a self-fulfilling prophecy. Like bringing a wave of negativity onto myself. But these thoughts lurk in my mind all the time. And they’re going to take me down anyway unless I figure out a way out that doesn’t waste all the money invested.

What would I do if my time were mine? How would I spend my days? I’ve thought about this each and every morning this past week. I would read, write, put my home in order, prepare for the future when my body fails me. Grow things. Find old friends. Stop calculating and timing everything. Move my body – find its strength and stop overfeeding it. Think about things other than profit margins, and client satisfaction, and productization and balance sheets.

How exactly am I going to get myself out of this mess?

Business, Family, Relationships

Week is coming to an end. There has been much drama on the work front with a major supplier of software to us wreaking havoc with an existing agreement we have with them. Hopefully, we’ve reached a compromise as of yesterday but my inbox is devoid of messages from them so I am by no means certain. It is clear that we will continue to diversify in 2015. This will mean some more long days.

Just for the record, owning your own business is simultaneously liberating and imprisoning. The hours are brutal at times, but the ability to make decisions on the spot is usually wonderful. Until you realize that you alone are responsible for any ripple effect of those decisions. I know for a fact that if I had to do this over again, I would not. I would be quietly retired and enjoying my retired husband (I think – another subject) and a life free of these particular responsibilities. I don’t like the stress, the hours, or the amount of space this company continues to take up in my daily thoughts. And yet, I truly hated working for other people. I never, ever got the true recognition that I’d earned because to recognize me was a threat to them. Duly noted. No grandiose thinking here – I could typically do my boss’ jobs without problems. Now I am the boss. Cool, but it’s no vacation.

Retirement for my husband is a total coin flip. He hates having days without structure or tasks by which he defines himself as valuable, capable, and relevant. He and I often have power struggles over minor things and I’ve grown to feel like I no longer really understand how our relationship works on so many levels. I am exhausted most of the time and he is either bored or highly invested in some project. The days that should be filled with gentle intimacy are instead filled with what we’re familiar with – managing the logistics of the tasks of the day. He doesn’t really see this as broken. And I don’t really know how to start moving us to a better place. He believes we have all the time in the world, and the people in my life have taught me that such a belief is simply not true. What to do?

Oh – update on brother-in-law: Stage 3a lung cancer. Starts radiation and chemo tomorrow. Age: 57. Think about that.