Terms Of Endearment

"I traded housekeeping for sex!"

A statement made so casually, meant in jest ~ but as always, the simplest things strike the deepest.

Since this new life has overtaken me, I have traded usefulness for uselessness, excitement for apathy, liveliness for hollowness. Where I used to hold down a meaningful job, I now wallow in unemployment. Instead of the sparkling home I once enjoyed, we fight a losing battle with dust and magazines, laundry and unmade beds.

The most common sight on any given day sees me sitting curled up in a corner of the sofa, laptop in hand, tv on, lost in thought. There are so many things I want to do ~ NEED to do ~ but it's as if there are lead weights attached to my arms and legs and I am unable to perform even the simplest of tasks. Eventually, some time before noon, I'll end up in tears. I'll berate myself for being what I am: sick, stupid, useless, lazy. Before long will come the promises that I know I won't keep: tomorrow I WILL clean! I'll make sure that the bathrooms are done and the laundry is finished. A time is set ...

And tomorrow when that time comes, I'm back on that sofa, eyes closed, staring into space wondering what happened to the once-energetic woman who cleaned and coached and baked and raised children. How did this happen?

Yes, folks, this is the face of depression in all its ugly truth.

What's odd is that while the vast majority of women lose interest in sex as well as everything else when they suffer from depression, I do not. Despite taking a whackload of medication that should leave me in a stupor and sexless, I am still wildly turned on by my husband. Which brings us to where we are tonight.

My son is coming to visit. I cannot, in all my pride, have him see my home in this state of disarray. So I swallowed my pride and asked my husband to help me with it. While most people think this should be the norm, it's important to note that he works very long hours, while I don't work at all; but I knew I wouldn't get it done if I didn't have some sort of help. So I asked: just do whichever thing you hate least!

I apologized, at one point, for the fact that it was so dusty. His very cheerful reaction was, "I traded housekeeping for sex!" meaning his first wife kept a much tidier home, but .... well, you know where this is going.

What he can't possibly know is how much it stings. For five years I have been working with a therapist who has banged his head against his desk repeatedly as I have told him that my only worth is through sexual engagement. Time and time again I have shared my intimate thoughts concerning my ability to hold or lose those I love, through sex.

Could it be I was right all along? Is it true that my only value to others is through what I can perform with my body? Because if it is, I'm in really big trouble.

Monday MeMe on Tuesday

From Chris' Blog .....

Why did the chicken cross the road? 

He saw me coming with the knife. 

What was your last thought? 

I'm thrilled Dave won Hell's Kitchen. 

Are you a cat or a dog person? 

Dog, although I like cats. 

Define yourself in 3 words... 

Dangerous and entertaining.

Kill the spider or let it out? 

Depends who is home. If kid is here, he can rescue it. If I'm alone, the bastard is dead meat.

Do you shower every single day? 

Nope (sniffs); should I? 

Walking past a beggar, spare change or ignore? 

Usually a dollar.

Where do you want to travel next? 

Canada 

What is your favorite food? 

Steak w/garlic-oregano marinade

Do you read harry potter books? 

Not a one. 

What is your favorite place? 

Banff, Alberta 

If you could have one super human power what would you choose? 

Flying 

Have you had a beer in the last week? 

Nope

Vitamin Water or Gatorade? 

Vitamin water, but I prefer water. 

What is your favorite song of all time? 

Something by Queen .....

When and where was the best picture of you taken?

At Newport Beach.

Monday Meldown

One day there was this woman who was in Crazy Classes, because she had a handful of mental illnesses and her insurance company felt that it was better for her to be in Crazy Classes every day than actually in lockdown at the Rubber Room Regency (AMEN!). 

During these classes, various topics were discussed that might help this woman in a host of real-life areas. This particular Monday the topic was, "Making and Maintaining Friendships." Foolishly, the woman, whom we'll call Meggy for obvious reasons, felt that this was a safe topic to discuss within the class for two reasons: she NEEDED to learn how to make and maintain friendships as she was more adept at buggering them up than holding on to them, and since she didn't think very deeply about it, she didn't really come up with any areas that seemed inherently dangerous in the topic.

Silly woman.

Fifty-one years ago, a beautiful baby was born in rural Canada. She grew into a multi-talented woman, gifted in so many areas including painting, sewing, writing, singing ~ basically ANYTHING creative to do with her hands, mind or voice. But more important than that was the beauty that glowed from within. She was so loving and gentle; an incredible mother, a great listener, humourous and ... my friend. My best friend. 

My best friend struggled with her health throughout her life. It wasn't fair, really. She did so much for so many others, and yet she was forced to struggle for 50 years to maintain her own health.  Where is the parity here? Hm, doesn't make sense. But she NEVER, ever complained. That simply wasn't in her genetic make-up. Rather, she laughed, worked, and carried on, more interested in others than in herself.

On July 22, 2009, my BF passed away. 

There is a link here, between the class, and my friend. You see, when I thought that the class would be safe, I never for a second imagined that our Session Leader would toss out quotes from other people that hit so close to home that my face exploded. I never knew what hit me.

"A good friend will stay at your bedside through death." 

I WOULD HAVE! I TRIED! But they wouldn't let me! No one would let me see her ... no one would let me in! My BF, my beautiful BF was in intensive care and the "rules" stated that only family was allowed to see her. The knowledge that she was dying didn't seem to click with anyone and consequently, I was never allowed to say good bye to the woman who had been my dearest ally for twenty years. And it crushed me. 

So out of nowhere, I begin to sob, great wrenching sobs. I completely LOST MY SHIT in that damned room, with a dozen people watching, all wondering, WTF? Even *I* wondered WTF? There I was, normally rational and even somewhat cold, my walls typically firmly in place, suddenly blubbering, complete with copious quantities of snot, convulsing as I wrapped my arms around my backpack, having utterly lost the ability to speak. 

At the end of that nauseous class, I gathered myself and my things, and staggered out, quite literally. During the drive home, and all that afternoon, I rethought the two weeks that I had spent in rural Canada after she had died, and what I had contributed to the celebration of her life. Her family had been kind enough to ask me to give a eulogy and while it was desperately difficult, I managed. I SO didn't want to do it! I don't do well at public speaking; but I felt it was the least I could do for a woman who had shared so much with me. Rather than being just another face in the crowd, her boys included me in everything from start to finish, making me part of the family. My son was a pallbearer, since he and her son were dear friends as well. But no matter how I think it through, I cannot understand why she's gone. I didn't know she was so ill, and I have not come to grips with not saying good bye. 

As usual, I carry a hefty dose of guilt. She was such a good friend and I don't feel that I reciprocated in a manner that befitted her. That sounds so lame! But it's true: I talked more, she listened. She gave, I took. That's how it was. I tried, though. She just was who she was. My BF was all giving ... and now she's gone.