Friday, October 3, 2008

Coping With H.I.D.

In Utah, where I was raised, I was considered an old bride- almost an old maid. There was a collective sigh of relief from friends and family when my husband finally took me "off the market." I made it the first 27 years of my life single and unfettered. I have to admit, during those years, I often felt lonely and maybe even a bit jealous of my married friends. As happy as I am now to be a wife and a mother, I don't regret those single years. I had to accept that while many people are ready for marriage in their early twenties, I just wasn't. There was part of me that had to experience life on my own and learn to feel secure in myself before I could belong to anyone else.

During those single years, I bought my first car, rented several apartmets, dated and cried over break-ups, bought a dog, and established a career in teaching. Living alone in places where I started out knowing no one, I had to learn to depend on myself. There wasn't much I thought I couldn't do. I washed my own car, hung my own pictures (yes, usually on a trim nail driven into the sheet-rock with a high heel shoe), bought and assembled cheap furniture, painted walls, drove long stretches of lonely highway with only the dog and my stereo for company, and navigated my way (fumbling) through unfamiliar city streets.

I knew that when I met the right guy, he would love me for being established, secure, decisive, and independant. He wouldn't care if I was older than the average Utah bride, he would realize that my assests far out-weighed my age.

Now that I have been married six years, I wonder where that girl has gone. Not that I have lost my sense of self. Motherhood has convinced me more than anything I do have superhuman powers and a capacity to meet any challenge. However, I seem to be suffering from a terrible case of H.I.D. (husband induced dependancy). I no longer feel the need to be as intrepid as I once was. Where I used to do everything for myself, now I rely, very often, on my husband. Obviously, I can no longer so much as find the mailbox for myself. Brett is quite the handyman, so he doesn't even want me to attempt home improvement projects (he does them so much better.) His perfectionistic tendencies would never be OK with me missing the stud in the wall or with my shoddy painting skills. Am I insulted by this? Not in the least!

Most of all, I have lost all sense of direction while driving. I never was good at finding my way around, but I had to at least try. My H.I.D. has become so severe and acute that I am more than happy to let Brett drive while I sit shotgun and read a book. I no longer haul heavy objects, take out the trash, or open difficult jars. I will definately NEVER assemble furniture again. Sometimes, I miss the intrepid, independant girl I was, but I would never trade my present to have her back again.

Suffering from H.I.D.? Do share!


mim said...

H.I.D is better than having a house that gets so far behind that the 10 yr old neighbor boys come over and beg you to let them mow your lawn, rake leaves, wash your car etc.....I am not sure if their parents are putting them up to this or if they are just in training to become great husbands to some girls some day.

A said...

HID is a selective disorder. I think you now have the opportunity for Intrepid Girl to shine in other areas. You have to remember that you didn't have those blessed children when you first began your career as Intrepid Girl. You must let the side kick have some action or he will get bored. You just need to come up with a cool name for him...

T K Barlow said...

Yes, I do suffer from HID, probably more than I'd ever care to admit, but with deployment hanging over my head, I'm trying to do more things. Still, I would preferrably maintain a healthy HID.

Amanda Flynn said...

Not married, lol, but I just wanted to let you know that I tagged you! ;)

Tova Darling said...

Interestingly enough, my husband has W.I.D.

I've worked in customer/member services for over 8 years now, so I'm a pro at dealing with angry/disgruntled people. Because of that, my husband never confronts anyone anymore, ever. It's officially my job. He won't make returns at stores or complain about service or ask questions of a business. He just points me in the direction of the offending party and then stands by while I handle it. :)