Today was not a good day......maybe it's because I have been off my Prozac for a few days and the Seratonin levels might be taking a shit dive. I think I almost cried today at least 4 times. Anything that had a bit of depth to it ,made me think how difficult the drama of life can be. So, first thing to do tomorrow is pick up my long overdue script refill for my "happy ass pills" and eat a handful to catch up.
When I think about being single again, I don't have thoughts that yeild a "Hell Yeh" attitude.
I feel that I have failed in a classic, cliche way. The older woman loses the younger husband to the other woman who happens to be named"I don't give a Shit". It's funny how the little piles of shit collect on the floor & you should be able to smell them but your sub-conscious says
" Hey..... you really don't want to smell that shit, never mind pick it up", so you dodge the land-mines and skip around the shit. Of course the shit just piles up as the days dribble on and soon enough, the whole house is full of shit and it has a name..... your marriage.
Ohhhh, the lovely gift of hindsight laughs in your face & says"hahahaha, told ya!"
I think he stopped caring along time ago. We would have to ask him why and he will just say he dosn't know. Always a convenient answer when you don't want to slay your opponent,cause it's more fun to wait and go in for the kill at a future date. He doesn't have an answer for any of my questions.
When I said " I Do", I had a very clear idea what that ment. The idea is still the same but his idea changed so here we are.
I am so honored that I get to be a nurse. My calling allows me a perspective that most people don't get on the full helpless human fall from grace. My worst day still will never be as bad as what we see. I feel guilty morning my losses because the seem shallow in the eyes that see much worse.
A woman lost her husband yesterday, he fell off the ladder and lambasted his head on the concrete below him. The only blessing was he died before the Neurosurgeons got to him. Anyway, I wonder what their last words to each other were?
Did she warn him not to get up there because she knew he wasn't the man he used to be. A seventy year old man on a ladder has more balance issues thatn a man at 30. Or did she just finish bitching him out for not getting the Christmas lights down until March? Did he have something to prove gettting on the ladder or did he have no one he could call to do this task for him? Who Knows.....God slapped down the trump card and he earned his ticket on the God bus.
When I was alittle girl, my Dad always said we had to leave each other with"I love you" because an event might occur and we wouldn't see each other again. Love was always the sentiment to be left with each other at partings and at the times of arrivals.
Can I even say "I love you" to my husband as he walks away from me and all that we have made together?Can I be that big.....not right now. I am angry. I had a thought today and it involved my husband standing in front of me, motionless,suspended in his animation and I was going to be allowed one swift furious hard kick to his sack. Now granted this is not an easy thought. The best part of any man I have ever loved is his Penis. Yes. I have a shallow end to my pool. The thought of doing any damage to this most spectacular peice of anotomy is simply appauling, yet I wanted to kick him square in the nuts. Afterall, if I can't have what I have loved so dearly for the past 9 years, why should anyone else get that bliss.
Think about it.....Lorena Bobbitt must have really had no use at all for that penis if she felt there was absolutely nothing to be wasted or regreted by chopping it off. Recklessly tossing it into a field hoping it would be chipmunk food or an ant pizza party.Just thinking about that whole thing makes me silly with laughter. You know why the surgeons so desperately tried to sew that bitch back on......they wanted to make sure it was damn possible in case anyone wacked their weinie off. Then to make the shit sandwhich sweeter, he makes a porn movie after called "UNCUT". If your dick and all that it is attatched to is sooooo bad your wife cuts it off, maybe porn isn't a good career choice for you.
Now......don't get me wrong , Lorena was wrong. You have to be a wack nut to really do something like that. We can all imagine things wicked to cope with what we have no control over. The theater of my mind is not a pretty place sometimes but either I work it out there or I find my way to a bottle and I find alchololism boring. Plus, I have the attention span of a gnat so I can't really hold a grudge for long.
What this all gets down to is I miss my husband's body.When all else fails, this is the one thing that has kept me around, "dickmatized", distracted, not smelling the accumulating piles of shit around me.It kept me holding onto hope that things would get better with time and love. It helped me to remember when we fell in love and when he desired me. That's gone now and at 45 years old, it's hard to imagine a glorious comeback, with him or anyone.
Pardon me while I wallow abit. Trust me, I know it always gets better, I am always climbing the ladder, I have not had to step down.
I only hope that I don't get to the top like our patient did....and fall.....and die because I couldn't keep my balance anymore.
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