High Anxiety

The two month renovation of the hotel where Didier works is over and with it, my semi-sense of calm.  For his family, this job sucks.  We see so little of him; he is exhausted and frustrated when he is able to be with us, and all of the tasks of the household and child-rearing, save driving, will fall back entirely on me.  Not that I wasn't already topping off at "responsible for everything," but I could at least spend a little time with my husband of just under two years and enjoy his company while doing the dishes or checking in on the girls, folding laundry.  You get the picture.

Last night in bed I found myself gasping for breath.  I was truly struggling to breathe and started to panic.  I sat up and tried to meditate to calm myself, unsure of what exactly this could be.  Was I developing asthma after a year of breathing pollutants on the island?  Didn't seem likely, though how some of these vehicles pass any emissions test or are deemed road-worthy is beyond me.  I had exercised the other day and had no such difficulty.  Could I have some sort of bronchial infection or irritation that constricted my lungs?  I didn't wheeze or breathe heavily at all during the humid afternoons and the air conditioning was on at some modest temperature.  Sitting up peering into the night, listening to Didier start the snorchestra, I felt the panic.  I was having a freak out, a panic attack.

We are both under extreme amounts of stress and are unable to really help each other.  The day to day of taking care of these children, listening to them, caring for them, feeding and clothing them, making sure assignments are done, papers are signed, doctors are visited, all the good stuff moms talk about and get the mute button pressed because even listening to the list is overwhelming, is just exhausting.  When I add the cooking and the cleaning and the laundering and the entertaining, by the time they go to sleep at 7:15, I don't have any energy left.  I am depleted and still see tasks before me.  I miss my friends and more than I realized, I miss the insane circus that is my culture. 

Let the Bajans have their craziness.  Sometimes I want my E! True Hollywood Story, True Blood, Sopranos, non-stop coverage of whatever, Cosby reruns, Will and Grace, and commercials, commercials, commercials.  Our satellite picks up programming from Venezuela, Puerto Rico, and other Spanish-speaking countries, so not only do we miss much of the programming from the US, when we do get it, it is either subtitled or, my personal favorite, dubbed in Spanish.  Sitting down for a zone out, if that were possible, would involve an assault of advertising and promotion that my three semesters of Spanish just didn't well prepare me for. 

I'd hoped to address this with Didier at the end of the week, talk with him for the 10,000th time about helping me a little and giving him the "being a stay at home mother is one of the toughest jobs in the world" lecture/monologue/speech, when he blurted out in the car ride to Lily's school, "This is killing me.  It's not going to change.  I could one day tell you that this is it and we would have to go."  I was astonished and looked at him like I had never seen him before or at least not as clearly as I was seeing him in that moment.    He was tired and hurt and clearly spent.

For two months, he'd dealt only with upper management, no staff.  He'd had positive conversations with his new General Manager about moving forward, making new things happen, starting fresh and on the eve of the full staff's arrival, he'd just crashed and burned.  The workforce here in Barbados is less than desirable and I am surely not the first to say it.  Coddling and too much support by government has made too many detached, unfocused, unconcerned, and disloyal to any company or organization.  These feelings take the form of rampant high absenteeism, sick days that go on for months for illnesses that in another country wouldn't even get a blink, and slow, slow, slow service and execution of job tasks.  Of course I understand the old colonial wounds that leaves a local population disinterested in the success of what it sees as an oppressive outside force (foreign companies and expatriates) taking advantage of the small guy(themselves), but with family from the southern United States and deep rooted understanding of the torment of colonialism and slave culture and mentality, I think a time has to come when you work with self respect, set your own goals, and try to achieve for yourself and your family.  Didier is not seen as the enemy per se, but there is no reason to have loyalty to his company and therefore, no loyalty to the kitchen, its chef, or fellow employees.

The company, a major multinational, still expects that standard offered at any of its other hotels, and rightfully so.  Didier is meant to provide that.  But I wonder if any chef, any captain of any industry, could achieve all he or she is capable of without a team of strong players.  I wonder how it would affect their souls, their sense of themselves if the product, no matter who they had working for them, still had their names attached to it.

I am angry, pissed actually, and there is no one to really be upset with.  So we find ourselves here again.  Both working for the goal of a strong family unit, but doing so independently of one another.  We have a five year plan  We have set goals for our family and for ourselves and have gone without some of the luxuries that might ease the burden a bit in order to save for that future.  It is certainly worth it, but for this or because of this, we both are suffering from high anxiety.

(c)  Copyright 2010.  City Mom in the Jungle.