Is the Plan Failing?

Blogging has been a sort of therapy for me. It is not really about being “read,” in fact, I am certain there are many times I spend hours writing only to have the words disappear into the universe – left to fade without audience or contemplation. It does not matter. I write for me. I write to remember, and I write to synthesize my own jumble of thoughts and feelings.

I have often struggled with where to draw the line between sharing things so personal that the truth is uncomfortable, and desperately needing to write so that my head does not explode. I want to write the truth about this retirement experiment – with humour and authenticity – but without whitewashing reality; and the reality is not always entertaining.

Stephane and I are not getting along. The stress of this renovation has taken a toll and proven more than we can handle. I once read that renovations rank up there on the stress scale next to divorce and death. (Yes, there is a stress scale!) I knew we would struggle. What I underestimated was how the huge change of going from 9 months of bliss to the money pit from hell would affect both of us. I also underestimated the toll the long physical days would take on our aging bodies.

For most people, retirement does not have to mean that you spend 24 hours a day with each other. In fact, that is probably not healthy. Having some hobbies, or part time work is a good idea. It just so happens that we chose to do extensive travel immediately after Steph left his job and thus, we have literally been together every minute of every day and night for the past year. That is not a hard thing to do when laying on the beach listening to the waves, but now that we are home, and under a great deal of physical, mental, emotional and financial pressure, we are both desperately in need of some time alone.

Unfortunately, this never ending reno has forced us into endless long days, side by side. There is nowhere to hide from the mess, the drywall dust, the noise, or each other. Our reserves are empty and we have not been kind to each other. It makes me sad and disappointed that somehow we could not be stronger and get through this without hurting each other.

I suppose stress for some brings out the best in them, but not so for us. We both lack certain coping skills – no doubt a result of our upbringing, and while in normal times our differences are what keep us close, when under stress it all gets a little ugly. OK, a lot ugly.

Normally I expect certain surprises and issues with a reno, but this one really takes the cake. It has been one problem after another – literally pushing us to the brink both emotionally and financially. We are at the point of no return though, so the work goes on, the punishing hours go on. The line of credit grows while the emotional reserves shrink.

Stephane and I play together very well. Leisure, music, food, love – we are good at it. We love to spend time together doing these things. We are best friends. People have often remarked that they are jealous when they see Steph and me together. “You can see the love you have for each other when you sing together.” “You two are such a perfect couple.”

It's true, and yet, working together has proven quite the opposite. We have different tolerances. Different skills. We are not compatible workers. We had considered that as a possibility when I came up with this two star retirement plan, but we were overly optimistic – brushing aside our gut feelings and past experience and hoping it would be different - that somehow being retired would change the dynamics. It did not.

Renovating houses together is no longer an option. This part of my two star retirement plan needs adjusting. But before I can come up with a new plan I have to find a way to renovate my marriage.