|Posted by The Thinking Other Woman on May 5, 2022 at 4:50 PM|
Well, I don't know what's happened. I've either caught Giardia at work, or food poisoning, or something like Norovirus is going around again and I have it. (Note the choice of PUKE-green lettering.)
I haven't been able to eat anything for four days. I have been basically confined to the couch (heavily padded with quilts and towels), barely able to drag myself to the bathroom.
I. Feel. So. Hellish.
What's interesting is the difference between now and the last Norovirus I had, maybe four years ago. I was this sick then, only it started on my out-of-town job, leaving me puking outside a restaurant (I'm sure people thought I was drunk) and STUCK IN A HOTEL ROOM on one of the worst nights of my life. I puked so hard I peed myself and thank God I was driving the car I used for my elderly relatives. There was a thick white towel in there the caregiver had put in there and that's the only reason my car seat wasn't ruined for life. I also had a spare pack of adult dy-dees in there, and fortunately my aunt and I wore the same size. So I had something to protect the car when I had no choice but to DRIVE MYSELF AN HOUR AND A HALF HOME feeling like I could DIE.
I'm not kidding. The night I came down with it and puked at the restaurant, I had no choice but to take a shower, and I felt so weak and sick I ended up huddled on the floor of the tub with hot water raining down on me for like half an hour. I couldn't even move.
There sure is a big difference between me then and me now. Then I felt so sorry for myself, that I had no one to call and no one to come help. If I felt too sick to move in the shower, I had to just SIT THERE until I could get up on my own. And I felt very, very sorry about that.
Gone were the days when I had a husband, at least one person who cared about me, to help me when I was sick. To care that I was sick, or to even call when I was sick.
Once upon a time, when I was seeing The Guy This Website is about, I had an hour-long panic attack and drove myself to the emergency room. It was SO scary. It was all I could do not to call him. But I wasn't his responsibility. Not the way it would be if it were his wife or his daughter. They could call him if it were them and there would be no questions, no problems. But I just held on and resolved to battle it out myself rather than cause him a problem.
I felt very sorry for myself that time at the restaurant because now, I didn't even have that option.
It's been a big difference this time. I've already been through this once, so that has helped. And I have the past almost nine years with no one really close in my life at all, and I guess I've sort of become hardened to this.
I've let go of the fantasy of the life we could have had if he'd left. Chances are it would have been an enmeshed codependent relationship, just like in the horoscopes, and it wouldn't have ended well. Of course, I'm not a controller anymore, but he's still a hideous codependent, and he's not growth-minded and he's unwilling to work on his own codependency and low self-worth.
Only half of a relationship getting well still = a sick relationship.
We're older now, anyway. I'm turning the corner into fat, dumpy, tired old age, and he's an old man. There really wouldn't be anything left now but doctor visits and the nursing home.
I used to be scared to death of facing all that alone. Now, I know that I will be, and how to push my shoulders into the yoke, shut up, and just get on with it.
I also know that's all I will ever do now, and that I don't really have a future anymore. All my future will be is the same old workday over and over and over again, until age and illness stop it. So, I'd better be content with this old condo, these two cats, and sitting on this old couch, because that is all there will ever be.
I used to be really sad about that, I think because I still thought of myself as a young person, with a young person's energy, who should still expect "a bright future."
Well, for most people, "a bright future" really just means you have a steady job that pays ok and you stay out of poverty. And the house and 2.5 children with the spouse you have a ... sort-of-meh marriage with.
That's one thing we wouldn't have had. A sort-of-meh relationship. I simply wouldn't have stood for it.
Oh, well. His loss. The good thing is I accept where I am now, which is, after all, what one has to do. I certainly am not able to change it, and I don't believe anything ever will. I mean, Since when does that ever happen to anyone?? After fifty?? To a fat, dumpy sack of potatoes??
Not in this lifetime.
I think I know why I hung on to the dream of one day being with this guy for so long. In the film Broadcast News (GREAT movie, by the way), Aaron says to Jane, "Maybe the best part of your life is over, and you don't want to get up and start the bad part."
Sounds about right.
I always believed life would be really, really happy one day, probably because the only time that really happens is when we're innocent children in healthy-enough families, and I missed out on that and didn't get to have it. I spent my life still waiting for my Disneyland.
Now, I understand there isn't any. Just sitting here by myself sick, and understanding that one day I'll be doing the same thing in a nursing home on Medicaid, waiting for death.
Fortunately, I'm okay with that now. And I'm not spinning silly fantasies about how this guy and I are going to postpone some of that, anymore.
Real fucking life. Don't you love it? I wish it didn't have to be so sad, but the good part is, I am no longer so sad about it anymore. He couldn't do his work, time passed, the ship sailed. We're old now.
I didn't get to post that astrology page yet. I haven't had two brain cells to rub together. I'm going to try to work on it now.
Categories: Current Happenings