Richard Gere is Dr. T, a gynocologist in Dallas, and his clients are an assortment of crazed women of all ages who lean on him during times of stress and exhaustion and moods.
Especially moods. Dr. T is their go-to-guy when life is falling apart... they actually treat him more like their shrink than their gyno. And his wife {gloriously portrayed by Farrah Fawcett,
shame on you Academy of Film Arts & Sciences} is the most off-center, needy woman of them all. So the film is basically about this guy who's just trying to get all of the women in his life to live calm, balanced, productive, happy lives. He spins in circles a lot trying to do that, but he just keeps on tryin'.
So does my husband. I call him 'Dr. B' when he gets in his 'protect the women' mode.
He's got four daughters and a mom to care about and worry about and try to help when he can. I joke with him about how he's 'THAT GUY' everywhere he goes - because he is. He will answer questions from complete strangers, or pitch in and help out when someone is trying to unload their van or fit seventy three cars into a twenty car parking lot, or lend a tool, a broom, a ladder, whatever, to help someone else at a show. Especially if it's a woman in need. He'll spend half a day putting up her gazebo at a show.... but I digress. What this man does for other people all the time is nothing short of
amazing. I am so grateful for his heart, his spirit, his generosity.
And then there's the stuff he does for ME.
Because of me. In
spite of me, too.
I'm the one he
always works so hard to take care of and protect and help and support. I'm the one he lets dream and reach and jump off cliffs {
metaphorically speaking} and he waits to catch me or hold me or patch me back up when it's all over. We do that for each other, yes, but lately it seems he's been on the supportive side most of the time.
A long time ago, a friend -our daughter Jeni's color guard dance coach Stanley Knaub - said something to one of the girls in the guard that went straight to my soul. He said it to her because he saw that she was in a bad relationship, and he was trying to speak a language that a seventeen-year-old girl could grasp. He said "
Relationships are like a dance. Sometimes, you are the one who leaps or falls, and your partner catches you. And sometimes, your partner is the one who leaps or falls, and you catch them. If you are always the one doing the catching, it's not a dance. It's about trust. You can't dance without trusting your partner." I've never forgotten that very sound bit of advice from a man who left us all far too soon.
Bob and I have danced together for thirty years. From crazy high school students ready to change everything about our lives in 1979 to crazy old geezers taking a chance every day NOW, we take turns leaping and catching. Lately though, he's been the one catching me.
All the time.
After a
very busy week for me, we began working on more Retreat stuff today. We have some deadlines and events coming up, with a lot to do on our plates. I reached a point this afternoon of complete and total overwhelm, where I couldn't think straight any longer or feel any enjoyment in the work I was doing. My hubby saw my meltdown, and kicked into Dr. B mode. He told me to stop. He told me to let myself rest, relax, and recover from a lot of work and stress lately. He told me to lean on him and let him handle everything.
I ignored this good advice and informed him that I had too much to accomplish, too much on my list, to stop. I kept working... or, TRYING to work, really, because I was actually just spinning in circles and getting nothing done.
And you all know how that worked out.
At the moment when I was in tears and wondering HOW I was going to get SO much done, he looked at me. With that LOOK. No, not the '
I'm so darned frustrated with you' look, but the '
honey, please, I'm worried about you' look. And I realized something that really made me sad.
I've been working so damned hard for so damned long on
so many projects and to-do lists that there hasn't been much of me left for HIM at all.
Nothing, actually. He tries, oh, how he tries, to break me of my workaholism... he kidnaps me and takes me to movies, he asks if I want to walk to the beach or go drive through the daffodil fields. And lately, I
always say no. I always say 'there's so much to do'. And it's true, there IS so much to do when you are running two businesses and trying to make a living and do all the things you want to do to make the world better.
But he is the one who makes sure I eat something every day and actually stop to go to sleep at night, who will clean the kitchen if I'm too busy working on a client's design, and run a load of laundry when I am buried in research or paper for a collage project. He tells me not to worry about the financial end of things in our crazy pushing-the-edge-everyday life, even though he knows I do. And in return, I realized today that I work myself into a frenzy and then to complete exhaustion instead of saving some energy and time for him.
So, I canceled something big I had planned for Saturday. Not easy for me to do, not at all fun to let someone else down, but I did it. And I stopped working today when my daughters and grandson showed up for a combined celebration of St. Paddy's Day & my birthday {
a few days early}. I let off some of the pressure in my pressure-cooker life, and swore to myself that
every day, I'm going to remember that this man who takes such good care of me deserves the
best part of me, not a crazed woman of a certain age who always manages to lean on him during times of stress and exhaustion and moods.
Especially moods.
Forget my March challenge of getting rid of
stuff. I'm getting rid of
stress instead... and my best friend, husband, and reason for living is getting his girl back.
