Dependency

For the better part of my adult life, I have been independent.

My marriage taught me all I needed to know for the future chapters of my life. I had to be financially independent. I had to have the ability to know that I could take care of myself, because my marriage was one in which the possibility of leaving in the middle of the night was a reality.

Before, during and after our various reconciliations, I took care of our family home and yard. I paid the bills. I arranged for our children's needs. I did what it took to keep a household running. I needed no man to take care of me. I did it on my own and I was proud of the fact.

Enter Important Relationship Number Two. I think that this man was attracted to my lack of neediness, because that was encouraged throughout our relationship. I asked nothing of him and if I received more than that, I was over the moon.

Unfortunately, that independence led to two separate lives. Each of us found happiness outside of our relationship ... and I'm not talking in any illicit-affair-sort-of-way. He found a friend who was ready, willing and able to try new things while I continued my independent status of primary caregiver of our child. I started attending events that had little interest to him and found my way back to my family and the joy that comes with finding a piece of yourself that you had lost.

Throughout this independent life of mine, I knew that I had no one to rely on but myself. I did anything and everything I needed to do around the house and yard. I asked very little of my growing children because I had high standards and I didn't want to find myself 'redoing' something that my child had already done. Yes,  I did it to myself. But I did it.

Then my oldest children grew up into two independent souls. Recently, I have found myself leaning on my children and accepting their help when offered.

Their services come in many forms. From driving ... to treating me to a meal ... to running an errand ... to accepting a gift ... muscle power ... and brain power. Between the three of us, there is little that I feel we cannot do.

I asked my Second Son to move back home last year. I had selfish motives, but I knew he would also receive mutual benefits from sharing some of the household expenses. We decided that we could make this work. And it has. Because my Second Son lives at home, I seem to be on the receiving end of his generosity a lot.

When Mom's health was in question and I needed to go out to her, it was without question that my Second Son told me, "Don't worry about a thing. I've got it covered." From taking care of My Youngest Son, to taking care of all that running a household entails. I left and knew that 'life' at home was being well tended in my absence.

He has taken over the maintenance of our yard. I can count the number of times that I shovelled snow last winter on one hand. I haven't touched the lawn mower in almost a year. The dreaded task of tuning up the lawn mower? He did it for me this year. I didn't have to ask. He just did it. This is marvelous!

He's a handy guy to have around. If something is broken, he either fixes it or runs out and takes care of what needs to be done to get it fixed.

If I need muscle power, he's there. If I ask for things to 'disappear' (excess junk to the dump or to give away), he makes it happen. If I give him free reign to do a job, he does it.

I sit back and marvel at his capacity to do so much more than I could ever do, in the same amount of time. I can and have done all that he does ... but it easily takes double the effort and time.

But all of this has made me lazy.

Sunday night, my Second Son quickly rearranged the living room while I tended to other matters. I came into the room and Poof! it was done. We put our heads together to fine tune the look. I vacuumed the nooks and crannies (and tried to convince the pile of the carpet to lose its memory). I rearranged the contents of the TV wall unit. But in reality, he did it. I just did what I do best. I puttered with the minor details.

Monday morning, my Second Son granted me a second wish. He decluttered the (old) playroom in the basement. Poof! It was emptied.

Not only that ... but a new queen size mattress awaited me upon my return from work. I had a new bed. All I had to do was build it.

I looked at the work to be done and felt overwhelmed. I would have to empty my room to make room for the bed. Which meant my old bed had to go into a room which was already fully furnished. So that room would have to be emptied as well. Then I would have to reassemble my old bed. Not to mention all of the vacuuming and dusting that would entail as I went along.

My Son would be right, when he said it felt like I expected him to do that for me. I didn't want to expect it ... but yes, I certainly did hope that he would say (once again), "Let's do it!" But he didn't.

Monday night, I took on the job at hand. At least the first phase. I disassembled my old bed and vacuumed the dust bunnies that have been in hiding (and others that were boldly staring me in the face). I dragged up the various boxes which contained the parts and pieces required to build my new bed frame. And I built it.

That behind me, my super-strength returned as I eagerly set out to drag my new mattress to its new home. I was almost to the finish line. All that was left to do, was to complete the look with the new bedding that I had purchased along with the bed frame almost seven months ago. Voila! (not Poof!) ... my mission was (eventually) accomplished.

Except ... I still had a spare bedroom with an unassembled bed and an assembled futon. I walked by that room for the next day and a half and pretended it didn't exist. I went to work and came back home ... and no more Poof!, it was done. It awaited my return.

I took Tuesday night off. But last night, I tackled the job set out before me. I vacuumed the nooks and crannies of the rooms involved to warm up my moving muscles. And I was off.

A few hours after I began, my mission was complete. The futon has been moved and is settling in nicely into our new Game and Exercise Room downstairs. My old bed has been reassembled, remade with freshly washed 'everything' and is awaiting its first guest (which should arrive in about a week).

The nooks and crannies of four rooms of our home have been vacuumed. Half of our home looks fresh and new with the minor transformations. Not one penny has been spent in this 'renovation'.

I am thrilled and excited about this mini-makeover. But do you know what feels best of all? That I completed the last half of the transformation by myself.

I don't like to feel needy or dependent. When I have people willing to do a job for me, it is very simple to allow it to happen. It starts small. Some extra manpower when one person can't do the job. But when it becomes all consuming and one (that would be me) starts to expect others to do things for them ... it is time to roll up one's sleeves and rediscover the power that independence brings.

Don't take this the wrong way. I will still gladly accept help when it is offered. But I will not let myself become weak with learning to depend on others when I can do the job myself.

Team work is a most excellent goal. But knowing you can do it by yourself is empowering.