Wear Them Down

Today my little sister sent me an email in which she detailed her plan for "silent rebellion" against the food-related tyranny of her grandmother. This amused me very, very much. I have my own silent rebellion in process, after all. You see, for all my illness and pain and general misery and the very strategic move of dating a doctor, I find myself living with someone who is marginally aware of the effect of chronic illness on my general mental and emotional health.

I've tried letting all the fury and angst and anguish out. I've been on valium for a few years now, that actually makes me laugh out loud, because it makes my emotional upheavals bearable, but it doesn't mean they stop. In fact, thinking on it, the valium just takes the yen for personal destruction out of my emotional lexicon. I knew something was missing, funny that I should just realize what it is.

Anywho, now that I am certifiably sick and shut-in, the house we share is quiet most of the time and I'm beginning to suspect my significant other is somewhat relieved. I also think he is concerned about my upcoming surgery and has chosen, rather childishly, to withdraw emotionally when I need him most. Note to all people: This is a shitty way to treat a sick person. Sick is just an adjective, it's the person who needs you, not the illness. I guess even when doctoring is your profession it is difficult to face physiological mayhem and upheaval in your own house.

I probably need to refill that valium prescription. In the interim, I have decided the current state of affairs is completely unacceptable. I need some emotional support and way more hugs than I am currently getting. So, I have decided to wear him down. Talking doesn't get us anywhere and we always end up saying "well, maybe we shouldn't be in this relationship." That is useless times 100, if we were going to quit we'd have every justification in the world, the least of which is the ocean of years between our ages.

My first line of attack is professional. Oh, did I mention we work together, he's my boss. So, since most of the time I barely have the energy to hobble from the bed to the kitchen, much less get dressed, pep talk myself into breakfast, bully myself across the street to work and then collapse in a chair for the duration of the day -occasionally snarling at people who call or stop by for whatever reason and disturb the silence, I have decided to become a model employee. Except, i refuse to speak to him. Everyone in our organization knows I'm a walking time bomb, they know the meds I'm taking and the toll the meds are taking. For some reason he is reassured to see me in the office, no matter how loopy and checked-out I am. So, show up I will. Today i broke a stapler and said 5 words in 3 hours that were addressed to him. Revolution!

At home, I'm going to become what I've worked hard not to be: Needy. I'm turning up the heat on the whole "hold me, comfort me, baby me" thing. I read somewhere (some medical or psych text) that when facing illness independent people become more independent and needy people become needier. Well, i fall into the first category and I've been soldiering on bravely for 4 years now. I'm letting the wall drop and I'm going to focus on becoming a hot mess. That's slang for letting it all fall apart. It's in the name of science and a healthy relationship. Stoicism is for sissies. Being needy is going to be the real hard work.

i don't know if I'll be able to whine - high pitched anything makes me think of knives, but I may mewl a bit.

Updates to follow.