I am a problem solver.  Most people who know me well can attest to this.  I see a problem and I become obsessed with finding a solution.  It is one of my greatest qualities because it has allowed me to tackle things a lot of people wouldn't be able to face.  I work tirelessly, until I find an answer that can bring me peace of mind.  I chip away at each possibility: researching, feeling, thinking, asking.  Always asking.  I intuitively know how to look at something from all angels and the best part is- I can actually put myself in the situation and examine how each solution would make me feel.  Only I don't merely imagine how it would make me feel, I take myself there.  I actually become completely enveloped in it, as if that path has happened.  A lot of people have similar qualities about them, but many who know me would agree that I have a certain intensity and tenacity about my approach that is fairly uncommon. 

And that's probably due to the obsessive nature of my trait.  This great quality is also my inner demon.  Sometimes its best to just stop.  Some things don't have solutions that can be imagined in one night.  Some things take time.  Some things take hope.  Some things are simply 100% out of my control.  And even yet, some things don't have a good answer.  Sometimes the answer will be one of pain regardless of whatever skills I have.  And when that is the case, I clench hold even tighter.  I wrack my brain over and over, rolling the possibilities amongst each other like powerful waves crashing in my gut, begging for it to end.  I find myself lying awake at night with a chest full of pounding, ice-cold steel spreading across the trunk of my body until it finally reaches my limbs and I can't help but let the panic set in.  The realization that this situation is not one that my problem solving skills can fix.  I am trapped. 

I would say this is the number one source of agony in my life.  When I was younger, around 15, I started thinking about death.  Not in a morbid way.  Not in a suicidal way.  In a realistic way.  I realized it would happen to me.  It would happen to everyone I could see around me.  It was only a matter of time.  Here we were, investing everything into this life, pretending things mattered, when ultimately we all would end up the same- in the ground.  It scared me.  It more than scared me.  It changed me.  This was the first unsolvable problem I encountered that took my mind hostage.  I raged against nature, against the universe, angry for the lot I had been given.  I felt it was cruel to be given such a wonderful life, to be put here in the world and given no explanations.  Why do humans exist?  Why does anything exist?  What is going on here?  It felt like a ride with no exit.  Stuck on a roller coaster, that eventually drops off into a great, back abyss called death and you have to keep riding.  I looked for escapes, but there were none.  And I panicked for a long time before I relented.  The whole time there never was an exit, and I wasted a good portion of my teen years filled with anxiety over something I was powerless to.  I could have relented long before and seen the beauty around me, learning to enjoy the ride rather than be tormented by it.

And I have to say, I've changed very little.  Autism threw me into a similar whirlwind.  I looked for the exit routes, I searched for the answers and ultimately, the only one I could find I did not like- time.  Only time will tell how my little girl will fare.  I can only be responsible for as much as I can do to help her in the right direction, but there is no way to tell where this path leads right now.  Another answer I did not like was the frightening truth that it wasn't all up to me.  I could not bear full responsibility, though I would like to.  Much of the outcome would depend on my daughter.  Being a guide is all I can be to her, but in the end she is the one who steps where she steps, not me.

Why I try to bear the burden of others' decisions is beyond me.  I so desperately want them to make the choices that I think will make life easier and good.  But in the mean time I waste a lot of energy worrying, fighting, and filled with anxiety about things beyond me.  I can only hold myself accountable for my own actions and feelings, but not those of the people around me.  Their feelings, their decisions, their path is ultimately their own.

My fists have been clenched so tightly that I have not allowed any room for faith.  It takes a whole lot of faith to get by in this life, whether or not people even realize they are utilizing it.  Sometimes you have to open up your heart, release your grip and say "I did my part, the rest is up to you."  All I can do is invest in the things I love, in the people I love and have faith the I can handle whatever comes from that.  If it is a dark, scary place, then I can say I did my best.  But my best is all I can do.

"If you don't like something, change it.  If you can't change it, change your attitude." -Maya Angelou

I think its time I changed my attitude.

This blog entry is really hard for me to write.  I don't really want to share what I'm feeling right now, but I also don't know what else to do.  I don't like people knowing about the ways in which I'm struggling, like I talked about in the previous entry, because I don't want to prove them right.  I don't want to fail, or for my marriage to fail, my life to fail, like they all thought it would. 

But right now, I'm struggling badly.  I'm really unhappy in San Francisco.  I LOVE this place.  I love the culture, the food, the art, the sites, the festivals- everything.  This city has so much to offer and it will always have a piece of my heart.  But the truth is, I don't think it is the best place for us right now.  D does not have enough space in this one bedroom apartment.  She is under stimulated here and her boredom is constantly leading to tantrums.  Having to spend 20 hours a week in a one bedroom apartment without easy access to the outdoors is very difficult.  For both of us.  Going outside isn't much better.  Outside she is overstimulated.  She tunes out because there is SO much going on around her in a busy city.  Then she gets worn out by all of the stimuli and ultimately tantrums when we get home because she is upset about what she has just had to process.  And going outdoors here is hard in general, because there isn't any 'just walking outside' in your PJ's to get some air in your back/front yard.  What yard?  Every time we want to go outside we have to be fully prepared.  That means fully dressed for the outing, with snacks, clothes, toys, diapering, etc etc.  Its not as easy as it sounds when your child might flip out publicly is you bring the wrong food/toy or whatever.  Either way, we can't just meander around the block for a minute. 

Aside from that, we are isolated.  There isn't anyone to help us when something comes up.  AND THINGS COME UP.  Micah doesn't have the kind of job where he can take days off.  Sometimes our schedules get mixed up or someone is sick or therapies need to be rearranged and there is literally nobody that can ever help us in these situations.  It is so stressful I can't even describe the magnitude of pressure it has placed on my life.  Also to be noted is the fact that no one can ever watch D while we go out.  That means we never go out.  Micah and I have no personal time together except in this little, isolated house.  We need to have people helping us and giving us the respite we crave, but there is no one here.  It would also be lovely to not have to cook dinner alone every night and to have someone around helping out every once in a while.  Just to not be so alone.

San Francisco is not child friendly nor child centered in any way.  The number of children around us is minimal and you wont see them playing outside or running around the neighborhood.  D's exposure to peers is totally limited.  She goes to a playgroup on Mondays, but people are distant there and I don't feel any sense of community.  San Francisco is lacking in that whole neighborhood community department that I know D is in need of.  No, it is every man for him/herself out here.  I do not feel accepted for who I am and the kind of life I lead here.  People accepted here are successful adults, artists, free-thinkers, singles, gays, hippies, college students finding themselves, innovators and the elite class.  I LOVE most of the things I just named.  But I am part of a young struggling family.  And there is nothing here for that demographic.  Nothing.

We are also lacking in fresh air, warm days and access to nature.  It is always cold.  It is almost always foggy.  It is not near a place where you can go and be in nature uninterrupted.  The air is polluted, everything is concrete and the tactile properties of nature are lacking in her life.  It honestly breaks my heart.

And then there are the amenities.  I'm not sure how many of you out there are familiar with city amenities, but it isn't pretty.  I have no dishwasher, limited kitchen space, a sink that about 10 in by 10 in and probably only 10 in deep (try fitting a frying pan in that), no laundry machines, no closet space, no outdoor space and no dining table.  It.is.not.easy.  Repeat after me, NOT EASY.  I know I sound like I'm just complaining now, but it adds up.  Sundays?  The one day Micah has off?  You think we spend this time together, our one day to be a family?  Nope.  I do laundry that day.  And family dinners?  No we don't have a table for that.  And the sink is usually full of dishes or fills of so quickly and D is usually so antsy about being in our house at that point, that I try to make the easiest thing possible, or nothing at all.  Of course we eat, but its not the family dinners I want to have with my loved ones. Setting up activities is also difficult because of the space.  Our art supplies are not organized, but shoved into unreachable places and the space to even do them is scarce.  Not to mention that Micah and I have such restricted privacy and personal space because our living room has our bed in it and D has the bedroom to herself.  We couldn't do it the other way because then we could never have anyone in our house after her bed time or walk around the house even after her bed time without disturbing her since the living room has no door. 

Household repairs are a no go.  Micah isn't a handy man and there's no one around who is.  It usually falls on me or doesn't get done.  If we had others near us (like Micah's dad...) who could show us how to do these things and help out, we could take care of all those little things.  Not to mention, God only knows what kind of things she could be getting exposed to here.  I don't know if we have mold, or lead paint, or what the heater is like, or how old the pipes are.  I can't afford to take care of all of those things and the fact of the matter is, this house is O.L.D.  There probably are some safety hazards and I really don't know how to take care of them or if there is even a point in trying given the age of the house.  When you sign a lease in San Francisco, regardless of the house, you also get a lead and mold disclosure, because all of the homes are so old you have to sign paperwork acknowledging that you understand and accept the terms.  In other words the landlord is not held accountable, and if I wanted to get it taken care of it would be out of my own pocket.  I don't even know if the place is retrofitted. 

All of this and more weighs heavily on my shoulders.  The truth is between D's tantruming, the limited space and outdoor time, the lack of family, the isolation, the possible safety issues and the restricted amenities, I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE ANYMORE.  I want out.  It is too much.  I can't go on like this.  I know it isn't the best thing for us and I don't want to do it anymore. 

But then there's my husband.  He does not want to move.  He does not want to even consider it.  He feels he has sacrificed so much and he just can't sacrifice anymore.  He loves it here.  It is part of who he is.  It is part of his identity.  He wants to be a dancer and he is good at it and people have shown interest in him.  He has been involved in some projects with pretty renowned companies.  I know this is his dream and he doesn't want to give it up.  He feels like it is all he has left and he can't, no he wont, let it go for his family or for anything.  I understand it.  He does work so hard for us and he has given up a lot.  But at the same time so have I.  The truth of the matter is that my happiness comes from seeing D succeed, and his does too, but he will only give so much before it interferes with his dreams.  I am NOT in any way trying to bash him.  If you knew him, you would see one of the most talented, kindest, strongest, patient, creative, intelligent, forgiving and loving people on this planet. I truly and DEEPLY love him.  There is no one like him and he is a special person to me.  But he doesn't feel he can give in this area.

I am at a loss as to what to do.  I don't want to go separate ways.  I love him.  This isn't about love.  This is about wanting two different things.  I want him to want what I want, but I can't make him.  I know if I move him away he will resent me and hold me accountable for shattering his dreams.  I know if I stay here I will continue to feel like I am sacrificing what is best for D and I and even Micah.  I know I will continue to be too stressed and isolated and to be frank with you all depressed.  And its not the kind of depression that is internal, the kind caused my a chemical imbalance.  Its the kind that is caused by living a life that is not conducive to calm, happiness and freedom.  I feel alone, tied down and stressed every single day here.  I don't want for my marriage to fail, especially if I still love my husband.  But we are not seeing eye to eye on something that is very significant.  Either way, one of us is going to be very unhappy.  I can't stand that we can't agree on this.  It is heart wrenching and I don't know what to do right now.  How do you solve a problem like this?  Has anyone experienced this sort of thing?  If so, I want to know what you did and what helped.