Finding Control When So Much is Out of Your Control

Last week as we were finalizing our home sale, tensions arose between us and the buyers over something seemingly silly. No, it wasn't over the price, closing date or even any repairs. It was over my two-year-old refrigerator. Yes, my GE Profile, side-by-side, stainless steel refrigerator. I wanted to keep it. She also wanted it. We marked our territory and the men scattered.

Finally, I had snapped and the fallout was ugly. I implied in an email to my realtor she was a bully. I demanded a deadline to accept my terms. And worse of all, I sent a really horrible email to my husband. Truthfully, not a soul was spared.

Thankfully, in times of stress, my husband has always been the more calm, level-headed person. He quickly called me and said, "What's going on?" I didn't answer but started to choke back tears. Then he asked, "can you talk about it? Do you not want to move?"

Then it was like a water balloon popped and all of the formerly contained liquid flowed out. I realized that I was acting like a three-year-old. As my grandmother would say, it was a hissy fit of grand proportions. I finally told him, it's not the refrigerator, or this couple, or the realtors. For me, the refrigerator was symbolic.

One of the hardest things about battling cancer is the loss of control. And for the last year and a half, my life has been out of control and/or been on hold. I lost my job in December 2009, the same month I was diagnosed. Over the next year, I went through surgeries, doctors, radiologists and nurses. Each telling me what to do, when and how. Then, my husband got a wonderful job opportunity in Corpus Christi and went down there while I tried to sell this house. For nine months I've been keeping two kids, two dogs and a turtle fed and maintained. Not to mention keeping the house show ready for a possible buyer. I haven't wanted to take on many volunteer jobs or part-time work due to our uncertain moving date. And of course, there's the loneliness of being without my husband.

So, for me, the refrigerator was the final straw. I wasn't going to budge. I had to have a victory no matter how small or silly. Luckily for me, my husband was so understanding and compassionate. He called our realtor and worked on an alternate solution. In the end, I'm keeping my refrigerator and walking away with a small victory. I did call my realtor and left an apology. I'm sure she saw my number come up on Caller ID and screened it. I don't blame her. But later she called me and thanked me for my apology.  I also apologized for my email to my husband. See, I'm not totally without any redeemable traits.

Now, were starting the clean out drawers and have found a small rental until we find our new house. And all is calm again.

Wondering why my husband puts up with me at times.

The Wondering Texan