Category: relationships (Page 3 of 4)
This week’s big revelation for me: it is easier to be sick when you live alone than when you live with another person. Disagree? Many people would. They would retort that it must be a lot easier to have the support of someone living with you when the going gets tough in the medical department. I cannot really disagree with that on some levels but on others, I feel like this week I can; even when you live with the most compassionate, patient, and nurturing man God has ever put on this face of the earth.
So why would I complain? Well, I am not complaining, just stating some facts. I am also not implying that I would ever want to change my living situation, so no rumors please! When you have a chronic illness, you live in a state of constant unpredictability. As I talked about a bit in a recent blog entry entitled False Assumptions, there can be days and even weeks where life just goes along relatively smoothly. You take your medications, keep your routine appointments, and manage your chronic symptoms as best as you can. However then there are days or weeks (maybe even months) where it is one constant battle after another.
Since about May or so, I have had one new issue after another to deal with in regards to my autoimmune illness. Hearing loss, dizziness and headaches started off this episode and now I have developed issues with my salivary glands which have resulted in pain, difficulty eating, more horrendous headaches, and just general discomfort. Add in a new round of steroids which are messing with my weight and to a small extent my mood, as well as some concerns about swelling near my lymph nodes (I am also a lymphoma survivor) and it is the perfect recipe for stress and exhaustion. I am mentioning all this not as a request for a pity party from my readers, but to lay the foundation to explain why it is sometimes easier to live alone. This is the most complicated my health has been since moving in with my boyfriend six months ago. I don’t just have myself to think about anymore when the going gets tough.
And that is what scares me. See, when you live with someone and are as connected to that person as I am to him, you can’t hide your little medical crises that well. I know, I know, you shouldn’t want to downplay that kind of thing from your significant other anyways. I can’t help but think that it would be so much easier though if I could. Why would I want to? Because I don’t want to bring him down. It can be exhausting to live someone who is physically struggling day after day for any period of time. Even despite my best efforts, the medical business can consume my day and our conversations. I guess it is good that I can step out of myself long enough to realize that. I know he is an adult and can take care of himself, but because I love him, I want to protect him; even if that sometimes means protecting him from me. Because when the autoimmune monster rears its ugly head, I just don’t have much to offer anyone and my boyfriend deserves to have someone who is emotionally and physically available.
The other point is that when you live alone and are dealing with an onslaught of medical issues, you can hide. Just pull up the covers and let yourself wallow in self-pity. Shut down from the world. To be honest, I don’t do that too often but when I do, I go all out. I put a special blanket on the bed for the dog so we can snuggle, grab my books, laptop, and TV remote to make sure they are not more than an arm reach away. I don’t answer the phone. It usually only lasts for a day or so, but I think that it can be necessary to give in and let myself emotionally (and physically) recharge. That day or so is actually a self-imposed time limit whether I am ready to face the world again or not. I know from firsthand experience that falling into a depression is only a few extra self-pity days away.
Here’s the thing though. I don’t want somebody else to actually witness me doing that! Oh no; I am a strong and courageous autoimmune-fighting warrior. I cannot let someone see me vulnerable! I have to protect the world! Yes, I do realize what bullshit that is now but like with everything else, figuring this out is a work in progress. More accurately, US figuring it out is a work in progress. We talked about all of this quite recently and here is what I (we) figured out:
~ It is not always my job to protect people that I love when I can barely take care of myself.
~ Trying to down play how lousy I am feeling or how scared I am with the person I live with serves only to alienate him, therefore making me kind of an idiot. We are only as strong as our communication with each other.
~ I am not sick three hundred and sixty five days a year. My turn will come to be there for him if I haven’t done so already. Now that I think about it, I have; he’s not always good at doing dishes before going to bed!
~He has some pretty strong views about not letting me wallow in any form of self-pity for ANY period of time. I think that is a very good thing in many aspects but I also sometimes think it’s necessary as I explained above. We will have to find middle ground on that one unless I make myself limit it to the span of his workday…ha!
I would love some input on this issue from those of you with medical issues who cohabitate with someone or live with someone who has their own medical issues. Be honest because chances are, you are not alone…
You know how you can smell a scent and it reminds you of a place, a time, or a person? Sometimes you may even smell it and not remember where you noticed it before, but you remember that the feelings you had when you last noticed it were good. I hugged my boyfriend one day recently and that happened to me. He was wearing a scent that brought back feelings of comfort and security for me. OK, and attraction too. But where had I noticed it before? So I asked him….
It is the scent that always brings me back to last summer. The summer that was originally shaping up to be one of my worst ones and instead, ended up being one of the best ones. I don’t know the name of the scent but I know he still has it and it always reminds me of him and of the summer that brought us together.
It was the last weekend in June last summer that it all kind of began, for me anyways. It was the weekend of the American Cancer Society’s Relay for Life and like many years previously, I was signed up to participate with a team from my church. Things had been crazy that week leading up to the relay with my health. Sure enough, the Friday of the relay, I was on my way to the emergency room just praying I would make it to Boston in one piece. I was having a difficult time with my breathing due to an autoimmune disorder. A fun six hours in a Boston emergency room resulted in a three day hospital stay. When I was discharged, things were still looking shaky. All of my immediate summer plans got cancelled and I was looking forward to at least a few weeks of extensive reading and some serious movie watching. Between that and a pretty intense round of steroids, I was not a happy camper.
At the risk of sounding melodramatic, my life changed after that weekend though. It was the first time I had been hospitalized while living by myself with my dog and I had to make adjustments. I needed more help for a short while. I had to count on some people I didn’t even realize I could count on, especially when it came to caring for my dog.
And then there was him, and the scent. We had one or two conversations before that weekend. I cannot lie; I had noticed him so many times before. Something about him drew me in, wanting to know him. But I was too busy being involved with the wrong man per usual and in the days following my hospitalization, that whole situation blew up and ended. When it did, I was done with men, dating, the whole nine yards. I was too sick to care and I had big plans for as soon as I felt better. I was going to start taking better care of myself, start seriously writing, and spend as much time as possible with my friends and family. Life was just too short to waste it investing my energy and time into people that were not worth it.
Best laid plans, right? All of a sudden he was there, right by my side. I had convinced myself that showering, dressing, and driving myself the two minutes to church the week after I got out of the hospital was a good idea. I barely got through the service and went to sit down to talk with a friend during lemonade hour. It was summer so it was lemonade instead of coffee! He came over to me, kneeled down, and asked me how I was. He offered to bring some of his video collection for me to church the next Sunday so I had more to keep me occupied at home. We really didn’t know each other much at all; yet he extended himself to me in the most caring and compassionate way. I more than noticed him then.
Problem though: I was done with men. And to be honest, I thought he was just trying to be nice. People at our church are like that: nice, kind, and compassionate. Of course he would be no different. Plus what would he see in me? Because really, I probably never looked more pathetic or sickly at church than that first month out of the hospital. We were friends on Facebook as well so he knew my health issues. He knew my age. He knew I had been dating. He knew I liked country music. Hell, he should have been running the other way!
He did bring those movies he promised me the following Sunday though and we talked a bit more. And the Sunday after that and the Sunday after that. So it grew. As the weeks went by, our conversations by the lemonade pitcher grew longer and longer; oftentimes we closed the place down. I loved talking with him. I loved just being near him. We joke about that now, you know, the whole pheronome theory of attraction. Apparently many people around us knew what was happening before I even did. I was in self- protection mode, but yet that didn’t stop me from listening for his voice every time a church usher would say good morning to my turned back. And he always smelled the same, that comforting cologne smell. The one that even now, reminds me of how I hate being away from him for too long.
As the weeks dragged by, I started to get better and he was still there. Now I had a problem though because his presence was becoming quite distracting to me at church. I remember a particular conversation with a friend from church where she mentioned something significant that was said during the service the day before. I had missed the whole thing. It was important and I felt terrible. It was his fault though. That day before, he had come and sat right next to me in church for the first time and having him so close, while smelling so good, drove me over the edge of distraction.
Labor Day weekend finally came around and after closing down the church one last time as just Sunday buddies, we somehow worked out a plan to go for a walk with my dog the next day. That, as they say, is all she wrote. Summer ended. I found my best friend. I fell in love. And even now, sitting here by myself in a cafe, I still can smell in my mind his lingering scent.
Debbie Downer…Judgmental Jims…Disrespectful Dannys…Neverenough Nellies…Insincere Illissas…Dream Killing Keiths…Narcissistic Nancy…Manipulative Mary. These are the buzz words you find online now to describe what is otherwise known as toxic personalities. I am not going to go into a lengthy description of each because well, my readers are very capable of doing that on their own and besides, most of them are self-explanatory. For example, a description of person who is considered a “Narcissistic Nancy” is someone who feels that the world revolves around them. They cannot see outside themselves and make that fact pretty darn well known. The end result is that they leave you feeling pretty drained and wanting to run away screaming…as fast as you can!
“I don’t understand why Cupid was chosen to represent Valentine’s Day. When I think about romance, the last thing on my mind is a short, chubby toddler coming at me with a weapon.” ~Author Unknown
OK, Valentine’s Day is just a terrible holiday. I am not sure exactly when I began to feel so strongly about this fact but I do. My personal feelings mostly revolve around the fact that it is a commercial holiday aimed at draining our wallets and making us question our worthiness depending on whether we have an actual “valentine” or not.
My views on this even surprise me as I tend to be a glass half-full/embrace happiness as much as possible type of person. I’m a romantic. I’m emotional. But to me, the problem with Valentine’s Day is that it sends a message that love has to be romantic. How many commercials on TV do you see with a woman celebrating a loving friendship with a female friend? Or a son expressing his love for his mother? I know, I know, you can find cards for this type of thing in the Hallmark section such as “To My Parents on Valentine’s Day” but the reality is, that isn’t what the intended purpose of Valentine’s Day is in our society today. Maybe part of my issue with the day is that it is telling me this is the day I should be expressing my love for my partner when in actuality, I try (and most of the time succeed!) in doing that every single day.
So on February 14th, you fall into one of two traps: the single person who is left figuring out if they should spend the holiday in a bottle of scotch or a pint of ice cream. Or you could be the person in a relationship trying to make sure that you don’t screw up. All of a sudden, the decision between roses, candy, and jewelry becomes overwhelming on this one day of the year. More often than not, it becomes a challenge to live up to the expectations.
This initially presented quite a dilemma to me this year because I am in love, real love. Like the kind that makes every day a joyous experience and more often than not, makes me wonder how I got through the last 39 years without him. All of a sudden, this year, it became ever MORE important to bypass Valentine’s Day because as dorky as this sounds, it felt like it would take something away from every other day of the year, which are just as much like Valentine’s Day should be as February 14th pretends to be.
He makes me chicken soup when I am sick. He sends e-mails from work in the middle of the day. He surprises me with mystery dates. He holds my hand at funerals. He listens to me rant and rave (even about Valentine’s Day!). He encourages my dreams. He knows when to hold me. He knows when to give me space. Even though he wanted to and knew I would go along with it, he volunteered to not celebrate Valentine’s Day; knowing how strongly I feel about it. I know that many people can celebrate Valentine’s Day and still show their love for each other at other times during the year but for me, not making a big deal out of February 14th means that February 15th (and even September 15th) will be something to look just as forward to….