I sometimes wonder if 10 years from now I’ll be looking back at all the photos, clippings, movie passes, artwork etc. from this point in time and think “wow we had so much fun, what a happy young family we are” or if I’ll remember how fucking rotten it’s been underneath all the smiles and fake laughs and quick wiping of tears.
Don’t misunderstand; it’s not that I don’t want to be here or that I want to skip all this memory making. Quite the opposite actually. The kids are growing up so fast and I want to be here and be a part of it. These are supposed to be the best years of my life and my time with Mr. Fucktard (yes we are still mad at him, he doesn’t deserve the Mango title right now). Unfortunately instead of being able to give undivided attention to my family, my life, my little world here a HUGE portion of my energy, attention and time goes towards being ill.
There is no little switch that really turns it off. I don’t wake up on a day where we have something special planned and I can save up a ‘NO SICK‘ day for it. Chances are by the time I’ve wasted the energy putting on make up, getting dressed into regular clothing and doing something semi acceptable with my hair, I’ve already overspent all my reserve ‘spoons’ for the day. All in an effort to fool the world and even maybe myself for a moment that I’m not that sickly sad shadow of a woman hiding out at home for once.
All that effort and my immediate memory isn’t really all that much. A lot of pain and frustration for a lot of work. Right now I remember dozens of bathroom runs, incredibly uncomfortable time stuck in the van, internal pleas that he doesn’t insist we go see a movie (that requires another 2.25 hours seated), forced small talk as we of course have to run into everyone we used to know, all of a sudden discussing my illness with strangers because apparently that’s what we do now and finally ending off the night hearing sighs of disappointment (turning into snores of course) because after all that, I wasn’t feeling very intimate….
In reality this past weekends adventures without kids we started off with some shopping (Mr. Twatcicle picked up some new pants) and then went to a new burrito restaurant where I had a beer (cause well…do you really think I’m gonna stick a burrito in me!?!) they had a bunch of classic rock playing and my pain medication was just kicking in, this was probably the highlight of my weekend. After numerous reminders I didn’t have my TENS machine, Man conceded that going to a movie was a bad idea so opted that some live music and then the strip club before heading home was better. Ok then… I cried in the bathroom at the bar, but will admit once we got to the strip club I did have a few moments of enjoyment making fun of Vanilla Ice 2.0.
Saturday we went to St. Valentine’s Horror Con. Lots of walking… which with my pelvis and back is a lot better than sitting or standing at the moment AND I brought my fully charged TENS machine. Obviously that also meant it was perfectly fine to go sit for those 2.25 hours for the movie afterwards. Whatever, we got it over with and honestly I think I liked it better than Mr. Mundanity over there so I guess sucks to be him.
While I’m sure as time passes my exact memory will fade, details will get fuzzy and I’ll lose some sense of what moments were like. I worry though that what stays will be the lasting feeling of torment my body and mind have been putting me through and the ridiculous stress it’s been adding to my relationships (though by no means am I blaming it for everything) and daily life.
Maybe though the point of keeping smiling photos, bits and pieces for memory/scrap books or buying souvenirs is to overcome the negative realities that tend to build up in the moment. We’re making sure that happy memories having a fighting chance to be the ones we remember.
We really didn’t have the greatest weekend. We’re not in the greatest place in our relationship at the moment. Apart from a snap of a ghost ship display (for future pirate camping reference) this is the only photo we took this weekend. It was Saturday evening on our way home. We had stopped at a casino so I could walk around a bit because after the movie there was no way I was going to be able to handle 45 minutes across the city and then another 40 on the highway. I don’t know why he decided to snap a pic at this moment but instinct kicked in and there I was grinning like a fool.
I hope reality fades away and that the real memories fade and a mix of muddled facts along with lasting evidence like movie slips, lipstixx bands and this photo stay. It’d be nice to think that one day I can look back on the harder times and not worry that I’ll remember them as difficult as they are.