Zen & The Art of Loving Your Spouse

Health is the greatest gift, contentment the greatest wealth, faithfulness the best relationship. -Buddha
 
Marriage is not easy and it’s not supposed to be. That doesn’t mean it’s drudgery either, it definitely isn’t in my experience.
 
I’m not intending to make great proclamations with this post, these are merely the observations of one person who has promised love, honour and loyalty to another person.
 
We’re closing in on our two year anniversary and our lives together get more interesting and exciting.
It’s also brought up many challenges.
 
Without violating my wife’s right to privacy too much, she has a chronic illness which takes its toll on her and sometimes me.
 
It is difficult trying to be the healer and the one in need of healing.  Sometimes it makes me angry that some things can’t just take a back seat until I am well enough to carry everything on my shoulders again. But that’s not the way life works.
 
My problems are not as debilitating as hers are, at least right now, she’s been in the throws of her relapse for over a year and we’re beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. As I am getting stronger, so is she.
 
It’s a real blessing.
 
I cannot say I have been the best care giver to her all the time. I’ve been angry, resentful, short tempered, occasionally non supportive and hurtful. None of these are intentional of course but the damage remains the same.
 
What I’ve found is that it’s vital, if not mandatory, that as a caregiver, you take care of yourself.
With my wife’s love and support, I went out with friends, joined a support group and pursued my own interests. It was just what I needed.
 
It gives me the energy to return to her and hold her when she has a bad night and talk her through the worst of it.
 
When we have a rough patch, and there’s been a number of them over the past year, I always remind myself to tell her:
 
“My worst day with you sweetheart is still better than my best day single.”
 
Loving yourself gives you strength, loving someone else gives you courage.
 
 
 
 
 

The Verdict

I posted earlier today that some doctor’s appointments had me concerned.

Today the first of some relatively positive news, nothing untoward came up on the lab work…per se.

Because of some abdominal surgery, I now have to be even more careful about what I eat; extremely healthy and smaller spaced out meals. No problem really. It’s still nerve wracking to know some organs are expressing mild discontent over their new configuration…but it’s manageable.

The MRI, still required. Dang. I thought I was getting off lucky.

 

Aaaand down we go

Tomorrow I have an appointment with the doctor and yesterday I got the letter containing the date of my MRI appointment.

*sigh*

Back to reality.

My general practitioner is a great woman – excellent bedside manner, efficient and takes my concerns seriously. I still worry about what the labwork says that she wants to talk about.

I still worry the bone in my foot is not healing properly/quickly enough. I’m reconciling that one of the meds is getting a dose increase.

There is still pain, lots of pain, my feet, knees and back.

My upper body strength has increased exponentially in 3 months, I can get myself up using my arms and hands no problem, and I’m not a waif by any stretch at 5’10 with a tummy.

All these restrictions and painful reminders…down goes my mood, the ever-present depression swoops in like a bird of prey, taking the opportunity of my moment of emotional weakness.

Ah well…we’ll see tomorrow I guess.

 

Mutant Planet Could Cause A Divorce

My wife loves mutant planet on Discovery science channel.

I love it too. But not to the same extent. I also hate our PVR now, or Tivo or whatever you call it where you are. Why do I hate it?

Because every time I”m doing something in the livingroom, B says, Ciaran! Ciaran! Wait, you have to look at this. She pauses mutant planet, too far back, too far ahead then too far back again. Lookit that, the snake! the snail! How that monkey has crazy feet or this frog attacked a fish.

I love my wife, very much. Though sometimes, I just want to sit in the same room and play video games or write or check my social networking pages.

Damn you mutant planet!

She cries when cute animals get hurt and then I feel bad for saying ‘hey, leave me alone.’

Given, I only do that after the 9th time in an hour when she’s taped 3 or 4 episodes and watches them back to back in an evening.

I’m soft hearted that way.

So I say again, damn you technology for never letting me get a moment’s peace when mutant planet is on.

p.s we can’t watch mutant planet Australia anymore because *spoiler alert* a kangaroo died.

see what you did mutant planet? see what you did?

 

Single Butches: Like a black Friday sale at Wal-Mart

I took B out for dinner this evening. It had been a while since we had some time just to ourselves and some money that wasn’t going for prescriptions or what have you.

Alone in the sunroom section of the restaurant as the warm afternoon light changed to evening, we laughed and smiled and enjoyed our time alone…then somehow got to talking about the nature of her femme-ness and my butch-ness if you will.

Of the B/F couples we know, we thought of who we knew where butch spouses were in any way more dominant or “in charge” or assertive than the femme in the relationship and the femme was more submissive.

This included our own relationship.

“I have a hard time to even think of one,” she said with a giggle.

“Me too.”

It’s true, I’m pretty quiet for the most part, spare with my spoken words, kinda shy. But not only that, I don’t seem to feel the need to be aggressive. Like most of us, if I’m disrespected, sure, I’ll call you on your shit, but for the most part, I’m easygoing.

A lot of my friends/acquaintances are the same, their partners were often the pursuers.

“I think it’s because we’re more shy maybe…”

“Or angry,” replied B with a laugh.

“Or shy and angry,” I said., “Why do you think that is?”

Her hypothesis: butch scarcity requiring femmes to work.

“I think it’s because butch women are pretty scarce. And a single butch is even more rare. You have to jump on one in the 5 minutes they’re single or else…it’s like a black Friday sale at Wal-mart.”

This comment made me almost choke on my drink from laughter.

Apparently because femmes have to fight for the scarce number of butches that exist. So if you’re gonna bag yourslf a butch, it’s survival of the fittest baby.

What do you think?

Do femmes secretly run the show? Do butches? What’s your experience?