Dealing with being sick has been challenging. I can look at my life and say I honestly never expected, at 38, to be facing this obstacle. I'm a big girl, and many would say it was to be expected, that people carrying extra weight are prone to developing health risks. And yet while my doctor agrees that losing weight is in my best interest, she also acknowledges that it's not a cure, and may not give me a reversal of my current condition. Yet I agree with her, and I have committed to eating a healthier diet, making lifestyle changes that I can live with and maintain. And it's made me look at all of my habits and really reassess what I've been doing for my life so far, and how I can make things better.
I've been coming out of the fog more and more. The emotional instability that poor Malcolm has witnessed over the last month has dissipated just like the mist when the late morning sunshine burns over it. It was challenging for him to see me like that, because it was so out of character for me. I was insecure, I was belligerent, I was crying over everything....even the cat crossing the street made me upset. LOLOL. He'd had it, I could tell, but he never stopped loving me. He never stopped reassuring me that even though I had pushed his last god damned button, he still loved me and that loving me wasn't an issue. LOL, whether or not he'd choke me so I'd stop howling about anything and everything was a different issue altogether, but he was patient....to a point.
I had some time to consider how far this disease has ravaged my body over the past few months while I struggled to cope with symptoms that were killing me, literally. The feeling of bugs crawling over my feet and ankles all the time, the swelling in my feet to the point that my skin is now stained from the blood vessels bursting. The times I'd wake up at night with my heart racing, unable to catch my breath while my heart pumped in a beat that wasn't quite regular. Always feeling sick, every day, feeling bloated and crampy. Being inexplicably tired only a few hours after I'd wake up. So thirsty, so parched and aching for anything liquid. My mind slipping ever deeper into an unexplained depression even though my life was stable, even improving with my recent promotion.
I stand by my declaration that I love my life. I really do, hands down. I have amazing friends, a beautiful smart daughter, family that is nutty, bitchy, and incredibly loving, and a man that believes in me. He told me the other day that he's my biggest fan, that he wants my health, success and happiness. During my fall into the crazy abyss, I questioned him alot, and I hurt us. I almost walked away. But I went shopping with my sister, the General, instead, and she...having met Malcolm, immediately set me to task. LOL, she's a riot when she's on a tear. So the General informed me that Malcolm was too good a man to walk away from. That any man that has passed her rigorous questioning is a keeper, and had I bothered to listen to what he HADN'T said for a minute, and stop thinking of me me me? That surely brought me up short, and I stopped and considered all the things in Malcolm's life that happen to make his world challenging. His job that he despises, his baby mommas, his mother, and his new living situation. His world has changed, done a true 180 degree turnaround on him in only the past few months and I know he struggles to keep it all together. And further reflecting made me think about what Love really is. Real Love, I don't think, would walk away from a relationship that was REAL. It would stop to find out what the deal was, and find a way to make it work, or at least fight for it until all it's possibilities were gone. I told Malcolm that the last year of my life had been the most amazing ever, simply by the fact that he'd been a part of it. He told me he felt the same, that he'd loved it too. So we found our common ground again. I'm still working on fixing all the damage.
The great part of all of this is that our communication has improved 110%. I've become less afraid of dealing with the issues that bother me, of being honest with him, and of accepting his sometimes brutal honesty in return. I know what his life is, and I accept it all...the good, the bad, and the questionable. He's not perfect, nor should he be...perfect is boring. In return he accepts me as well. Though in some respects we are polar opposites, he never disrespects my habits or opinions, although we have had on numerous occasions had to "agree to disagree" on a topic or two. He asked me for my patience and understanding. I think since he's more than given me his, I can reciprocate.
So obviously the spending every night thing with him didn't work out too well. For one, it was ludicrously inconvenient for me. For two, my Jujubear wasn't happy with the thought of it AT ALL. And kids have to come first. It was my decision to bring her into this world, it's my responsibility to make sure she grows to become a happy, well adjusted, non psychotic member of society. Her mommy shouldn't be out every night being a selfish hag. God I wanted to, just for a minute. But Malcolm and I discussed it, and he'd have been disappointed in me as a person to see me being a terrible parent, only conscious of my own selfish needs. I love my babygirl and she needs her mommy.
As to the rest, well this coming weekend we're hosting a large Masquerade Ball in Ogunquit. Malcolm is my preferred co-host, and parties with him are just amazing...for everyone attending. He just has that spark, that ability to kick it up to the next notch. I do love him for sharing of himself to accomplish that. I miss him, my lover and my friend. I need his laughter in my ear, and his biting humor making me cackle. We're both excited about our away time, and can't wait to relax after the party is done. I'll post a post-party story and update I'm sure, and hopefully we'll have some pictures to share this time too.
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