yesterday, i had a horrible day.
most people have a bad day and say things like:
i couldn't get my car started.
i felt so sick, i could barely get out of bed.
i couldn't get my hair right.
i ran out of milk/sugar/coffee/whatever, and it just got my day started off wrong.
i found my fish dead in it's tank.
i lost my favorite pair of socks.
all of these are bad ways to start your day. some are worse than others. being woken up at 6:40am by a nurse who is just about to go off shift letting you know that your grandfather isn't doing well is probably a pretty bad way to start your day. i've had all of these starts to 'bad days' (yes, even the grandfather one. and we didn't make it to the hospital before he died because my father had to take a shower....)
yesterday? i woke up with awesome husband. i went into the kitchen to make him his lunch (we learned that if he didn't have lunch/money/time, he'd just NOT EAT LUNCH. and that's not cool. so i make it for him every day now.). i peed. i kissed him goodbye. i got back into bed to watch the today show....
and the bottom fell out. why? was it something matt lauer said? i mean, i know i'm not the biggest meredith viera fan, but really. i sat in bed for about 40 minutes (which is normal, i usually watch a bit of television before starting my day) and fell deeper into the pit. then i spent another 20 minutes trying to force myself to put my contacts in and get out of bed and on with my day. then i spent 10 playing with piglet. FINALLY i got out of bed and sort of got dressed and mostly washed my face. got a bowl of cereal. there was milk in the house. let the cat in. ate my cereal. let the fucking cat back out.
and sunk deeper. what was happening? i have this medication! i sleep regularly! i'm eating better! WHAT THE FUCK, BRAIN?!? stop being depressed, kthxbai.
i plopped down in front of the computer and tried. i messed around on farmville and facebook. i chatted with a friend. i looked at my schoolwork. i tried to be 'normal'. i had lunch. i had the car yesterday, so was obligated to go to the bank and target. i forced myself to do those things. act as if. twelve steppers hear it all the time: act as if it's all okay, and it will be.
oh. mah. god. no it WILL NOT BE. i tried. i bought drano. i chatted with my mother. i tried to be normal. i tried to be productive.
i ended up in bed with no pants on and a package of goldfish crackers. i ate them all. then felt guilty for doing so. then felt guilty for being crazy. then felt guilty for being a bad wife, a bad daughter, a bad friend, a bad person. i try to cuddle the fucking cat and he shouts at me and struggles away.
again, i am alone.
awesome husband comes home and finds me in bed, cheddary crumblets on the comforter. he closes the door and starts getting ready to take a shower.
awesome husband: did you take a shower already?
me: no.
awesome husband: okay, let's go.
me: no. showering is fucking stupid.
awesome husband: come take a shower.
me: no.
awesome husband sits on the bed (naked at this point) and watches the venture brothers with me for a few minutes. then he stands up and walks over to me.
awesome husband: come on, let's take a shower.
me: no.
awesome husband: yes, we're going to take a shower.
me: you can take a shower. i'm not taking one.
awesome husband: get up, you're taking a shower.
me: no. i don't need a fucking shower. i sit on my ass all day doing nothing.
awesome husband: come on, get up.
me: no.
awesome husband: *deep sigh accompanied by a look.*
me: you're going to force me to take a shower, aren't you?
awesome husband: yes, i am.
so i finally give in and take a shower. this is why we shower together just about every day: we don't canoodle in the shower. we don't cuddle in the suds. it's not about saving water (although my water bill has gone down considerably). it's because many days, I WILL NOT DO IT unless he makes me.
also, he washes the spot on my back that i can't reach with my loofah.
many couples have steamy shower sessions, with sex and suds and diddling or what have you. many couples have slippery, delicious sex tales from their showers. and we do have a huge shower. like, we could easily have a foursome in there, no problem
in this house? awesome husband and i shower together because otherwise, i won't shower. and he knows that. and if i didn't give in, he would either undress me and literally put me in the shower, or nag me until i get up and go.
that's one of the many reasons i love him.
did my day get 'better' after the shower? no. i was still fucking guilty and refused to eat anything but lettuce and mushrooms for dinner. (with full fat ranch dressing. shutthefuckup.) then i hid behind my computer screen most of the evening, and let awesome husband watch ghost hunters.
and then i had a bowl of ice cream. that helped a bit. because, obviously. ice cream always helps.
today is not much better. i'm
sometimes i feel bad that he's stuck with me. that he married me almost six years ago, and he's stuck with a overweight, immature, batshit crazy bitch of a wife. i asked him a few weeks ago why he bothers taking care of me.
awesome husband said, maybe i *want* to take care of you.
i don't know that i'll ask him again. i don't think i need to. no one has ever said they WANT to take care of me.
and i don't know what i did to deserve him, but i'm so lucky that we somehow found each other. i don't believe in coincidence, and i don't know how it came about. but it did. maybe i need him to take care of me. maybe he needs to be able to take care of me.
maybe i need to let him.
EDIT: just as a reminder, i have contributed some stuff over at band back together. it's a great support site for physical and mental illness, abuse, survivors, grief, baby loss, all the sad stuff in life. we're a loving, supportive, awesome bunch of people and the group blog is really taking off, thanks to aunt motherfucking becky. check it out, and contribute, please - you can give or receive support there <3
Your awesome husband sounds like my awesome boyfriend, whom I hope to make "husband" one day. He deals with all of the shit I throw at him, which is sometimes a lot and can get pretty messy. And somehow he still loves me. He does his best to sympathize and understand my problems, which can be pretty fucking hard to follow along with since most of the time they're completely irrational. But he still loves me and takes care of me. Why? I couldn't tell you. I really don't know what he sees in me, but I am glad he sees it. Whatever it is. So go give your awesome husband a hug and say "thank-you." I'll be doing the same when i see my boyfriend tomorrow.
ReplyDeleteSmile! :-)
P.S. I <3 The Venture Bros. Boyfriend does an amazing Dr. Girlfriend impression. Lol.
Maybe he *wants* to because you're just as awesome to him as he is to you. Maybe you don't see it, but maybe HE doesn't see what YOU see in him either. Love is what it is. Warts (and goldfish crackers) and all.
ReplyDeleteIt sounds like you take care of him too--making him lunch or else he won't eat? That's wonderful.
ReplyDeleteMaybe you're exactly what each other needs.
And I agree, ice cream makes everything better =)
he says that guys at work tell him i'm the best wife ever. i make him lunch almost every day (not fridays, they go out to lunch on fridays). i have sent him in with cookies for everyone (not recently, but maybe i'll do some baking today).
ReplyDeletei think the guys at work are right - i SEEM like the best wife ever. but he puts up with a lot of my shit. but you're right - we kind of balance each other out. pretty lame and mushy, but very lucky.
Bear with me - the first time claims it didn't work. Sorry if this is posted twice.
ReplyDeleteAnd I need to break it up apparently, 'cause I can't shut my damn mouth.
LONG COMMENT AHEAD, LONG COMMENT AHEAD, APOLOGIES IN ADVANCE!
Steph - holy f*ck, feel like I am looking in a mirror to a degree. And you know what? I have different perspective when I am trying to help out someone else.
Depression blows goats and effs with your head. Your post made me laugh (not at you) but just because I struggle with that shit all the time, too.
I have an awesome BF, and I worry one day he'll wake up and sense will be knocked into his head and he'll leave. But you know what? When I read:
"sometimes i feel bad that he's stuck with me. that he married me almost six years ago, and he's stuck with a overweight, immature, batshit crazy bitch of a wife. i asked him a few weeks ago why he bothers taking care of me."
This is what I thought:
- he's with you because he loves you. he'd have been gone long ago if he didn't.
ReplyDelete- he wants you to at least try and not give in to the demons, as best as you can, even if that means making him lunch, going to target and doing some dishes. he wants to see you haven't totally given up.
- weight ≠ love-a-bil-ity. But you know what? Try walking every day. I know you probably want to say "eff you" but honest to goodness it will make you feel better, give you more energy, is not like that going-to-the-gym bullshit. he loves you, not what the scale says (I lost about 35-40lbs due to illness and see the before pictures and realize he loved me then, too)
- immature - i see you say you react quickly (in your more recent post). i can be very irrational, emotional and BF is calm and reasonable. so sometimes my choices aren't the best. but you know what? my immaturity can make me funny as hell or damn loveable sometimes when BF is really serious and that is awesomeness (i can't believe i just wrote that). you HAVE that. you balance each other that way.
- batshit crazy bitch - listen, chicky, there are lots of us out there. and bitches don't make lunch for other people with love. and look at the inner critic going to town on herself. be nicer to you, dammit, or my inner critic will come beat the sh*t out of your inner critic.
- taking care of you - keep in mind it's a partnership. you take care of his needs, too, including (but not limited to) the lunch thing. if you take nothing else from this (besides the fact i didn't capitalize shit which even annoys me) try to maintain the mentality of an equal partnership. maybe not a 'typical' 'normal' partnership, but that you aren't dead weight that he is being forced to carry around.
you are real and valuable (even when you feel like shit and you have a bellyfull of goldfish crackers). you need to at least mentally take on the role of partner, not baggage. he loves you and cares for you, but doesn't "take care of you" like you have lost your limbs/vision/ability to use the toilet on your own.
ReplyDeletehe will feel worse if you constantly say things like that, or treat yourself like all you are is baggage.
****KEY NOTE HERE TO SPEECH: I can only say any and all of this BECAUSE I have been there, I AM there, I deal with this all the time, JUST MADE some of these realizations last week. NO SHIT. Get out that CBT stuff and work it. It's hard shit, but that is because if you can't give solid evidence for or against, it's because it's telling you something you don't want to admit (like you are better than you give yourself credit for).
I like you, I like your posts, I can tell you are a cool chick and a good person *cue sappy music*. Seriously. You are more than a bitchy oversized piece of luggage that awesome husband deals with. You are not a 'sham' to his co-workers. Promise me you will try to feel equal (even though you don't feel equal)?
Please, for me?
That probably sounds all preachy and holier-than-thou, and it's not meant you. I am there. And my name is Steph, too, so that practically makes it like, legal or something.
*not meant to
ReplyDeletenot 'not meant you'
wow, that makes 4 posts! I bet you hate me now! Sorry!
zomg steph c, you commented on my blog with another blog!! i love it!
ReplyDeletei don't even know what to comment back, because i think we both said it all. like, everything you are saying, that's what i tell myself on good days. the only thing i want to comment back on is RE: "he will feel worse if you constantly say things like that, or treat yourself like all you are is baggage." you're completely right. he finally told me he doesn't like it when i call myself fat. so there aren't any fat people in this house.
and i hate walking, unless it's at disney, but i rock out on my recumbent bike like 4 or 5 time a week. and i break a sweat cleaning the house and having sex. so those both count as exercise, right?
Damn girl, if you are cleaning the house and breaking a sweat having sex, then you have me beat twenty times over (p.s. what's cleaning the house)?
ReplyDeleteThat's too funny. I hate walking. SO I bought a recumbent bike. I think we are BFFs and just don't know it yet.
Finally - BF told me three weeks ago that he really hates it when I keep saying I am stupid (or when I would say I was fat). So I am constantly trying to keep it in check. We've been together 6 years, too.
So I feel ya. I soooo understand.
Keep rocking that bike!
It will get better. There always up and F*ck the downs.
I think trying a new med could be good. And loving you. I kinda hate me, but I'm working on it!!