Playing the Good Wife

On the twilight of a day where I completed a fifth and successful interview with the organization that will be bringing me on board I wanted to share my joys, triumphs and excitement for where my life and career are taking me next. Truly this moment is divine, not because I have been struggling in embracing unemployment the last eight months, but because this job is in and of itself Heaven sent. Instead I find myself seeking prayer around each emotional turn, celebrating in quiet as my small triumph has been shadowed by my husband’s tremendous news. I suppose as a good wife it’s our job to put aside our girlish desires and superficial wins in order to celebrate the men in our lives. But today I want a win, I just want my humbling moment to be celebrated by my equal half, I want to celebrate the awesomeness together.

Instead I am playing the doting wife. Ecstatic for the opportunity that presents itself  for my husband in his career, not mine. Selfish all the same because of how dramatic his opportunity will adversely affect our family.

Would our behavior as women behoove us to fall into medieval roles as token matriarchs that lack authority? True figureheads to the men we stand beside, trophies of their accomplishments. Today I feel like that moment. I feel as if all my accolades as a person and woman were somehow dwarfed by the crowning moment of a husband’s career defining job offer. Suddenly, my university studies, self made career as a financial guru and gift to put emotions to words are as belittling as housework. Somehow I have never felt so inferior.

Part of me is wallowing in my own self pity and anger to not speak up to my husband. Somehow I don’t know this woman who is suffering in silence. I have never held my tongue and cannot for the life of me grasp the reason for silence at a time that should be carried out in joy, for both of us. All the while I know I should say something to him in regard to my feelings. I should be exerting my feminine prowess, but I sit in front of my monitor struggling to find the words for the emptiness at such a joyous moment.

Another part of my mute moment would be due to the fact that I fear his resentment. Job of CIO is not to be taken lightly as an offer. Job as CIO that would uproot my children from their home, estranged from our family, friends, community; the comfort and solace, which is like a warming in the heart that we feel when we are at home, the warming replaced with the frigid unknown. Would I be so selfish to ask him to cast aside this offer that would take us to the other end of the nation in the name of money? With no friends. No family. No community. So part of me begs that question of what really matters? Sadly my heart breaks and tears burn in my eyes because I know what matters and none of the aforementioned feel like a factor. His decision is made regardless of my feelings.

The plan is to have the offer maker visit and speak with me about this grand opportunity. Ensure I am on the boat, arm-in-arm with my husband as the quiet supportive spouse, to be there as he needs me as I maintain a stoic appearance of strength and resolve in an unsettling time. All of which makes me want to vomit and scream. A deep desire to share my feelings, fears, triumphant challenges that I eagerly accept but resent all the same for lack of ardent qualities. If only they knew of the big picture in my small offer.

Maybe this is my own faults being played out. Falling too far into humility to never boast of my own accord as this is truly God’s work of the accomplishment, his and my own. Excited to be fulfilling the job in The Kingdom, as I seem to have this higher calling, aside from the desires of the flesh with money. Or silently I sit in jealousy for the dream I formerly had for myself to climb the imaginary ladder…to what end.

So I sit at my couch listening to the silent whir of traffic, the cool scent of the desert’s musk in the air of my open window, reminding me that spring is in the air, all thoughts pulling me away from reeling moments of frustration. Quiet contemplation of whether I should speak up or hold my tongue. Personally at an impasse. He clicks away at his keyboard unassuming of my intentions, feelings, frustrations. I chew on my thoughts like a clod of rawhide, never breaking through but continually foaming into thoughts which lead into more prayers for answers, comfort, guidance. Cursing all the while.

Our relationship has never been so uneven. Never have we chartered these waters. When did I become subservient to him? When did my needs become any less important than his? When did my dreams and aspirations become any less fruitful? When did we no longer become equals. The conflagration of emotions stirring inside my abdomen, indifference, anger, frustration, hurt, jealousy, love and hate. How can one event create such unrest.

Sober with my emotions. Drunk in my thoughts. Ever hopeful that I will find the moment to speak life into my husband and into our marriage for how life will play out next in these earthly theatrics. Ever hopeful to celebrate in my joy with my new career on the horizon, while his causes our lives to teeter off balance. For tonight I am playing the good wife for him.