This is a diary entry/journal for friends I keep and thought I'd share here. Written a few weeks ago. I actually think we're going to make it out of this together...
The seeds of the bomb drop took root April 2015 when I had to be admitted to hospital and I needed care and mlc felt trapped.
So here we are... Just over 5 years past the bomb drop with unexplained abdominal pain, testing, no explanation. Last night, suddenly, I collapsed with nausea... A red flag my doctor warned me to mean I needed to immediately present to emerg for fear of burst appendix. I didn't want to go emerg and I knew I "should".
As I struggled with the decision, mlc packed a bag for me. Food. Diet cokes. Warm socks. The laptop with new games he thought I'd like. Said he would go with me, if I needed him to, but he was nervous about leaving d16 k (who has had a rough time.mental health wise in the pandemic and yes mlc stepped the [censored] up) alone... We're not on red alert anymore, but I'm not ready to leave her alone either.
"I'll go in the morning," I said. Regretting missing work, especially now with a new boss who I worry doesn't like me.
I sniffled and let a couple of tears escape... The body memory of what the last need for hospital triggered. Stuff that was already rumbling and yet I had no idea.
"That's where it began," I cried.
He nodded. He didn't defend or push back or shoulders up. He nodded. Let it sink in.
"Yeah. And we are in such a better place now." He said.
I responded, "I believe you'd come and you would barely resent it at all."
He laughed.
I went to the kitchen to feeling-eat a bowl of chips.
As I stood up, he said, " I'm going to start an episode of the Black list at 9:40 even though I'm exhausted. That's how much I love you."
I stopped. Mid step. He hadn't said that explicitly in 5 years. I looked at him... Probably questioning eyebrows and panic and hope and terror all bundled into one flash of emotion across my face.
"Yeah. I said that. That's what I said. And no we can't talk about it and I need you to pretend you didn't hear it for a bit but I definitely said it."
So I laughed. And stress ate. And he turned on the TV and I promptly fell asleep in his lap.
And I need to forgive myself. I wanted this hope so desperately, and now that I have it, I berate myself for staying and accepting these crumbs. If I'd left, I would have berated myself for not trying harder.
I think we're going to come out of this loving deeper. I remind myself this was always our path, from the moment we met and our oppositional traumas locked into one another. We always faced this struggle. I've never regretted falling in love with him.
I affirm my own values of deeply committing to humans, all of us so fundamentally flawed.
A few weeks until 25 years of marriage. Wild, isn't it?
There is a bottle of cider in the basement. The last bottle of the batch we were given as a wedding present by his parents. I remember it being delicious.
We plan to take a weekend somewhere and drink that cider... Or open it anyway. See how much it's changed in 25 years. Will it be terribly soured and ruined or simply changed, as we have?
