Sickness and Singleness

 After working 55-60 hours a week for a month, getting 3-5 hours of sleep(if I was lucky, all at one time!), stress eating like it was going out of style, and driving all over creation in yucky weather....on my "vacation", I managed to get what feels like the flu. 

It is day 3 of having it, day 1 of feeling somewhat human again. Day 2 was the worst, as I spent most of it in my bed, taking 20 minutes to painfully roll over in bed. My entire body hurt. Even my eyeballs ached. Did you know eyeballs could ache? I didn't. 

My sheets were soaked in sweat, my pillows covered in cough and sneeze fluids. Snotty, used up toilet paper wads were my bed mates.  I told the kids to stay out of my room. I only emerged when I thought I was hungry, heated up some food, ate a quarter of it, and realized I wasn't as hungry as I thought. I kept a gallon of water on the floor next to my bed. 

This is the first time I've been sick since my bout with the 'Rona. And trust me, getting the 'Rona was a doozy to my immune system, so I am NOT complaining. But I have to say, in the past 8 years, this is the easiest time I've had with a sickness. 

This is the first time in 8 years I'm sick...and single.

And do you know what? It WAS like a vacation compared to being sick married. 

Things I don't miss about being sick and married:

-Having someone who didn't give a shit that I was sick enough to sleep in a different room so they wouldn't catch what I have(Or insisting I sleep with them in the same bed because "they wont be able to sleep without me", not because its more comfortable for me, the sick person)

-Having to explain to someone that my entire body hurts so please, for the love of God, please do not try to touch me/cuddle me

-Having to constantly get up and help the kids with something because my partner, although he lives here too, is basically ignoring them and hyper-focused on the Xbox

-Having to constantly be woken up because a certain someone can't use the kids bathroom so he continually barges into our room just when I start entering a deep sleep

-Having to explain how being contagious works to a grown man...again. Please stop touching me. 

-Assuming that, because my sense of smell has decreased, my ability to hear has somehow also decreased. No, I can still hear you snoring as you sleep/stomping around when you're awake and both are loud as fuck. And yes, I can still smell your disgusting cigarette smoke. 

-Having to stop everything and ultimately leave the room when he had to get ready for work because, although I went without sleep because of previous reasons mentioned, he still couldn't be bothered to do anything to ensure I was getting the quiet I needed to rest. 

-Asking him as politely as possible to please stop shouting at the Xbox games. Then repeating this several more times until I came out yielding a kitchen knife and threatening to shank him if he DIDN'T JUST LET ME REST FOR ONE FUCKING HOUR

-Praying for the sickness to leave my body not because I hate being sick but because I thought maybe it was Satan trying to tear apart my marriage by showing me the worst version of myself(and not, I dunno...God showing me I was married to a selfish asshole??) 

-Having to apologize after a day or two of next to no sleep to my husband for not being the sweet, obedient wife I usually(?) am, instead of waiting for him to apologize for being a dick(because that's not what a good, Christian wife does. She takes him as he is!)

-Having to make myself soup or literally anything food-wise because although I was sick as a dog and he was perfectly healthy, it still didn't dawn on him the kids or I need to eat today

-Expecting my supposed significant other to occasionally check up on me, not just in passing on the way to the toilet or to wake me up and ask me where something of his is.

Only a small handful of times did he actually show something other than frustration with me being sick, and I usually blasted that shit on social media because I thought Oh, for once he's spoiling me! 

This time was so different. It was...just me. Well, me and the kids. The kids(teens) who work jobs and do sports and will do anything to avoid getting sick to miss out on said activities. The kids who are rarely home because of said activities. So, it was largely just me. 

It was so nice to not have to explain or justify taking up the entire bed. Of not having to move the toilet paper wads over, not move the blankets or pillows to share, to not have to get up unless I WANTED to get up. It is nice to know in my very weakened state I could still put myself first for a bit and not feel guilty about it. It's nice to know I don't have to apologize to anyone for being human, for needing rest, for wanting to be left alone. It's nice to know I'm not suddenly invalid because I'm down for the count. 

I don't have to prioritize a shifting man's mood over my own wellness as I recover. 

I got to...just be sick. 

That's a mind blowing concept for me. 

I am single...and sick. And even though my body is still regaining its strength, even though I can barely breathe through one nostril, even though I am certain I will cough up a vital organ any minute now....

I couldn't be more grateful. 

Now, excuse me while I take my shot glass of cold meds and hopefully gain the strength to wash my bedsheets. 

(Ah, who am I kidding. I'm still sick and feeling weak. I keep my sicky sheets until I'm all better. Who do I think I am, Superwoman?) 

Heavy Hearts and Brighter Thoughts

 In the past two relationships I've had, both men had the same disposition when it came to Fall/Winter. 

They hated it. 

Early on, these seasons brought with them holidays-as they do for everyone-but also sadness. Bad luck. Bitterness over never fully being able to enjoy festive times because something always took the fun out of it and replaced it with tragedy. Panic. Worry. 

On the other hand, I tried very hard when with them to bring them into my little corner of happiness. I don't know if its because my birthday falls in the midst of Winter, or because I love all the things that come with these two seasons, but...I love Fall/Winter. 

I have had my fair share of bad holidays. Especially when men I loved were so hateful towards them. 

One of my mom's friends stole all our Christmas presents on Christmas Eve. A lot of physical fights and cops called at holiday gatherings because one relative(or two) was drunk or on some illegal substance suddenly became their truth serum. I was almost molested by a cousin one New Years.  

But...I tried so hard to genuinely enjoy these holidays. The days were shorter and the weather sometimes brutal. 

I wear the most cozy sweaters and leggings. I don the funniest Christmas shirts I can find at thrift stores or on clearance. I re-watch Gilmore Girls, I decorate every corner of the house I can afford to. I watch the most festive of Christmas movies. I don't lick the yellow snow. 

But, once Christmas fun is done....I cry. I never understood why I did this. I always assume its just the grandness of the holiday becomes so overwhelming, coupled with all the relatives I used to celebrate this with and tried so hard to make the season festive are now nothing more than memories in my heart. I will stare at the bright lights of the tree knowing the world won't be as bright and shiny, people will return to complaining about roads and shoveling snow instead of wondering how to best help their neighbor, and I cry.

This past year, decisions I have made in good faith...are turning sour. People I thought I could trust backstabbing me. Telling the truth in confidence only to have it spread to the public, horribly twisted into lies. My little family, trying so hard to just be ourselves and becoming a mockery to others of what happens when "you step out of God's Plan"(whatever that means). Kindness given, and given, and given to undeserving people, until I saw myself becoming...becoming....

bitter.

One tragedy after another. Panicking over what's around the corner. Frozen in fear of what's next. 

I saw the months of Fall slipping quickly like sand between my hands. I knew Winter...my absolutely favorite time of year was coming, and it was coming FAST. I tried to look with such hopeful expectation. Winter, my birthday, Christmas, New Years. Hot Cocoa. Christmas music. Decorations. Fires in the chimney. A cat looking hopefully into my lap as I sit watching logs slowly burn and delight in warm drinks. 

One tragedy after another. Panicking over what's around the corner. Frozen in fear of what's next. 

It is the first week of December and none of the usual activites have been done. Traditions I've held so close to my heart are now thrown out the window. Worries about the consequences of decisions made in good faith, telling the truth, trying to be ourselves, and kindness given until nothing was left to give suddenly hitting me full force like a train without breaks. 

I'm struggling. My heart, which is usually so light and joyous at this time of year....suddenly feels very heavy. Somewhat bitter. Largely sad. 

There are no shiny lights shining brightly in my house. No tree taken out of storage. No wreaths or stockings hung. I have cried more in the past month than I have collectively all this year. 

I can do only what I know to do...try to plan ahead. Because looking ahead is a lot better than looking around me at current circumstances. Maybe its a form of denial, or being unable to handle such a heavy weight...I don't know. But it helps me push through. 

As I aimlessly scroll through one of my favorite sources of social media, a woman posted a video. It was largely tailored to people looking for their "person"(which I am not), but the advice she said really stuck with me. 

"Before you contemplate what your person should look like, be, etc....think about what YOU should look like. What do you want to bring to the table for this person? What does your "dream you" look like?" 

I may be in a bleak season...but dream ahead? I can definitely do. 

I stayed on that social media platform a little longer, then I found a blank notebook and got to work thinking. 

What did dream me look like? What was she interested in? What did she do in her spare time? What were her goals? What was she really passionate about, and what were things she thought were important but actually were not serving her...not her husband, not her kids...but HER...any longer? 

I sat down writing for several hours. I made a plan. I made goals. I made dreams. My hands hurt from holding the pen so long. 

My heart is still heavy, but my thoughts are a little more optimistic. I may have to deal with the consequences of letting the wrong people in my life this year for the next several months...possibly the next several years, but I have to remember that nothing lasts forever. This pain, this heaviness in my heart, this sadness that has seeped deep into my soul....it's a part of me(depression, anyone?) but it's not ME. It's not my identity. It's a part of me, it doesn't define me. 

I feel like I'm grieving several things. 

But...I also feel like out of this grief, growth is coming. I don't see it at all yet...but I know its coming. I just have to sit with my heavy heart until it doesn't feel so heavy anymore. I have to be more careful about who I let into this season. I have to move forward somehow, even though I feel like a sloth moving in quicksand. 

My heart is heavy but not entirely broken under the weight.