Ok, yeah, I know. She said nothing of the sort, the sort being 'hey Lori'...no, she challenges everyone. But I'ma bite. Because I've got things stewing, too. I'll even do it bullet style in her honor.
- I'm afraid of my husband having cancer. Yeah, that's obvious, isn't it.
- Drazzie was right. She told me, back when I said I needed help, she said "talk to him. He wants to be there for you." I told her she was wrong. I knew she wasn't. Drazzie knows me too well. And she understands these things because her Rambo is a lot like my Husby in how there for me he wants to be. She knew. And I did, too. I couldn't, though. I couldn't because I needed to think, to understand, to realize, and to figure out how to articulate.
- Articulate what?
- That I'm mad at him. Yep. I am MAD at my Husby for having cancer.
- How inappropriate is that to get MAD at your favorite person on the planet for having something happen to him that he never would have consciously chosen?
- But here's why. I have rules for my husband.
- He is not allowed to die.
- He is not allowed to cut off limbs or extremities.
- He is not allowed to get cancer.
- He is not allowed to leave me.
- He must love me forever and like doing so.
- yada yada yada....etc....
- You see the general trend? We're in it together, for the long haul, healthy and otherwise. But I'm not doing this life without him. I mean, I can't. I just can't fathom it. And no, I won't consider an alternative because he simply is NOT ALLOWED to break these rules.
- But here he goes...breaking my rule. See #3 above. So I'm mad. I'm mad as hell. What cancer does to me, the person who's never had it, sucks. And I don't want to face it again. I don't want to face what it could do again. I just don wanna. But he's putting me there anyway.
- Like he chose this.
- Damn I suck. Big green donkey balls. See yesterday's post. But...sigh...it's not just about whether or not I can eat at home vs. in a restaurant or at home with take out. I suck in oh so many places.
- I'm afraid of just how much I suck. And whether or not I can detach these permanently affixed lips from the balls to which they are attached. Because I hate donkey balls. I just do. And realizing I suck so much and that I hate that so much doesn't make me like myself more.
- I'm scared of my husband leaving me behind. I'm always scared of not mattering and even though I know, logically, that I do, I can always twist reality to match my perception of "not mattering".
- I hate that of all that my dad did do for me, what I got the most from that relationship is this idea that I don't matter.
- I'm scared of having no friends. I'm scared of realizing I do have friends and I don't think of them. I focus on what is lost, not what is standing there beside me.
- For example, we had renters in our home for a couple of years. One "couple" was a guy that worked here in Houston but "lived" in Austin. He'd go home on weekends to be with his wife and used our home when he was in the area for work. It was cheaper than an apt, suited us perfectly, and he was rarely around since he works offshore on rigs, most of the time. This situation for them was temporary until they could sell their house in Austin and his wife could move down to Houston. Early in 2011, they finally sold their home. We liked them and got along well with them; had become friends with them and didn't just see them as renters. So we opened up our home to the wife, too, as they looked for their new house together. No one knew how long this setup would last.
- I am one of those women that can't be around women for long periods of time. Opening our home to a woman who was going to be there night and day for an unknown period of time was dangerous.
- You know what happened?
- We became the best of friends. I love her to pieces and I can't get enough of her.
- Turns out, she's the same as me, about being with women - and she was just as scared of our arrangement as I was.
- We both LOVED living in the same house together.
- So why is it, when I say I need a friend and I pour out my heart about how all my friendships fall apart - I never even thought of her? She lives a mile from me now. We LOVE spending time together and never get enough of it. When I needed a friend to help me cope with my husband's news...why didn't I think of her? Why did my brain turn to the failed friendships?
- Scary.
- I'm scared of being this illogical, irrational person that I seem to have become. So fixated on the past. Stuck. And oblivious to it.
- I'm scared of all this illogical-nes and irrational-ness and whether or not I am good for my boys. I look at them and I want the best for them, obviously. But I know that I am not the best for them. Husby is. So I'm bargaining with God right now. A lot. Take me. I don't matter. I don't have the wisdom to teach. I don't have the patience my husband has. I don't have anything positive to offer those boys while my husband has everything wonderful to give. The boys need him. They don't need me. No good comes from me. Hence so many friendships falling apart. Hell, my grandmother even told me once that my mom got cancer because I made her feel so bad and she needed to get away from me. Yep. That's my grandmother's opinion. My mom got cancer and chose to die from it because I was a bad daughter and that made my mom feel bad about herself.
- Not sure how I was a bad daughter. To me, my mom and I were the best of friends. Couldn't get enough of each other. She sure stood in my corner and cheered me on through everything I did. But apparently, to my grandmother, she hated me and I sucked. I knew my dad thought I sucked. I sure didn't know my mom thought I sucked. My mom told me, as she was dying, the very opposite, in fact. Told me I was the best daughter she ever could have hoped for. Told me all kinds of wonderful things about who I was and what our relationship did for her. But my grandmother believed otherwise. Even though my mom told me for 28 years that I was a great daughter, my grandmother undermines that all by having that belief.
- I've learned over the years to just be scared of people. That, in itself, is scary. That's no way to live.
Damn but this is depressing.
And yes, I truly believe God is "striking" the wrong person right now, between Husby and I. I believe we die when we've learned our lesson in this life. To put it in a simple way - and I'm not expanding more but there's certainly a lot more to this. He calls us home when we've learned what we were supposed to. I can see how God would think Husby has mastered things. Husby is amazing. So patient and wise and kind and so much more. Husby is just amazing. He can't make an enemy. He doesn't get hung up on stupid stuff people do. And by people, I mean me. I can see how God thinks that Husby isn't going to learn anything more in this life and so that it's ok to call him "home". But what I think is that the boys need Husby. Because a life with me will set them up for problems, I think. But a life with Husby will set them up beautifully for a magnificent life. So take me. 'Cause I'm dumb. And I don't need to damage these beautiful boys. I won't "do" anything with intent. But I will probably teach them anger, avoidance, stupidity, etc. What's funny is I get so angry about some stuff...but it's because I'm avoiding what the real problem is. And that is precisely what I don't want the boys to learn, to see, to imitate. They need Husby. They do not need me. I have nothing positive to offer because, as you'll remember, I don't matter. If I were a better person, then I'd matter.
This has been stewing for awhile. And over the weekend I could finally articulate it. And I finally did talk to Husby - like Drazzie said I should. And he knew. He tells me all the time that
- I'm wrong
- I matter
- I have wonderful things to offer the boys
- God knows what he's doing
But I struggle anyway. It doesn't matter how many people say it if I don't believe it. And I don't. I don't believe there is anything good about me - not anymore, anyway. Probably once upon a time I did. But life has taught me to not think so anymore.
**PS - no, I am not suicidal. And I'm not even depressed. In fact, the endometriosis is changing a smidge - like it does every month - and while the pain is more intense, is worse, and the need for pain meds is still as prevalent as ever, I am finally getting some energy back and don't feel the lethargy I've been dealing with for the past 4 months. Husby and I talked about that this morning, there's a pep in my step again, I can handle housework again, I have unending energy for the boys again. And having pep again...I might actually start being able to beat a lot of these thoughts above back into submission. It's amazing what pain and exhaustion can do to the mind. I think if my endocrinologist had tested me over the past 3 months, I'd have been hypothyroid...but probably, now, am switching back to my norm - which is actually hyperthyroid. I see the past two months, especially, as an idea of what Husby will go through after surgery for the span of time before the radioactive iodine and before they get his thyroid hormone replacement worked out. I know it'll suck but I know he'll survive. And Husby and I both believe, strongly, that he will be just fine. This is a blip and it suits this year - the year from hell for us, medically speaking. Thank God for the boys! They are a true bright spot and their smiles can fix anything!!!!
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