That morning I woke up in a good mood. It was my first day as a part-time worker and I had the day off. I laid in bed until I was ready to start my day. After about 30 minutes of rolling around in a half sleep stupor I thought about what kind of breakfast I wanted to eat to celebrate my new life and freedom. Pancakes. That’s enough to get my lazy tail out of bed. So I get up and zombie walk out of my room to wash my face and do my hair. But wait, I don’t have to do that because I DON’T HAVE TO GO TO WORK! YAY! It can wait until after a gorge myself with my pancakes.
After I ate my pancakes ( I had 3 with a wonderful blueberry sauce with real blueberries in it. Nope, I don’t feel guilty about it.) I sat for a while in my comfy chair to decide what I shall do with the rest of my day. Ultimately I decided to run some errands to get some things for the house. So I washed my face and did my hair because I was actually going to leave the house before 10 a.m. without being pressed by some unpleasant business that must be done. Huh, I guess stranger things have happened.
I got in my car and slowly started driving like a Sunday Driver. In case you don’t know what that is, its a term that we Americans use to describe slower driving usually elderly people. I usually drive like a bat out of hel…I mean with intent. Sunday Drivers make me nuts but that day I was one of them. I didn’t have anywhere to really be so I took my time with my errands and arrived home at about noon. And noon time is what time? Nap Time! Yes, an important time of the day. I put away my shopping and settle in for a nap.
Out of habit of turning off my ring tone because of work I often forget to turn it back on when I’m at home. So my phone is on silent about 98% of the time. Is that a testament about how much time I spent at work or about how bad my memory is?
I wake up about 2 hours later and check my phone. Three missed calls from my company. I panic. Did I forget about a class today? Was today really my day off? I thought we had agreed that I was only to work on Fridays and Saturdays? OMG, what have I forgotten?
So I call back my supervisor to see what was going on. I was full dread thinking that I had made a mistake and that I was an awful employee. She answers the phone:
- Me: “Hello, I’m sorry I missed your calls. What is going on?”
- Supervisor: “Oh, I wanted you to teach and extra class today.”
- Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. I was busy (taking my nap).”
- Supervisor: “No problem. Btw, we need someone for tomorrow and Thursday. Also, I want to change your classes on Saturday to kindergarten classes so that means you will be staying longer.”
- Me: “….I can help tomorrow. I’m not sure about Thursday or Saturday. Saturday is the Pajama party at Rainbow school. I already volunteered to help out that afternoon.”
- Supervisor: ” No problem. Thank you for helping tomorrow.”
- Me: “Sure, see you tomorrow.”
And that should have been the end of it, right? Nope, it wasn’t. This overwhelming feeling of guilt suddenly came over me. Was I being selfish for not helping out more? It didn’t matter that it was agreed that I would only be working 2 days a week for them, they called me and needed my help and I was selfish for not going in.
Later that afternoon my husband came home from work. I told him what had happened and he was completely shocked that they called me on my very first day off. And then had the nerve to pretty much ask me to work every day that week. We both sat in disbelief that my company would do such a thing. Then, I made a mistake. Despite my high sensitivity I decided we needed to talk about our finances. Mistake!
Because I went part time money will be tight for us, so I decided that we needed to make back up plans such as what to cut out of daily expenses, moving into a cheaper apartment, or even possibly moving in with his parents temporarally. We were going over all the possiblilities when my husband said that I might have to end up going back to America. When I asked him if he would come with me he said “No.” OMG, I broke down. Because in my mind this meant a divorce. I went into tears and locked myself in the bedroom. All of the guilt that I was trying to hold back came flooding in.
- Why did I get sick?
- Why didn’t I take all those work days?
- Why was I so selfish and weak?
- If this marriage fails, it would be all my fault.
I am extremely lucky that I have good friends and family. When I have days like this I can call them to help calm me down and organize my thinking. I was extremely lucky this time because I was able to speak with my Papa and my best friend. They both assured me that my husband didn’t mean what he said and that the language barrier might have caused a misunderstanding. They were right.
After a having my nice little break down and when my husband returned from is walk, we had a conversation about what happened. He didn’t mean that he wanted a divorce. What he was trying to say was that me having to go back to the U.S.A was the worst possible thing that could happen and that he was afraid because he would not be able to get work so he couldn’t go with me. Oh English, why must we do such pesky things like fully explain our ideas and thoughts? Why can we just say things and go based off of assumptions like Japanese does? I mean its harmless when my husband when my husband randomly says “akeru (open)” and I end up confused because well…Open what? Who is opening said thing? But its different if he just says “You will go back to America.” Um, bring on the panic and hurt feelings.
No worries, it’ll be OK. This was only my first day on this new journey. Let’s try again tomorrow.