facing reality.

I don’t consider myself to be very imaginative.

Maybe I’m ashamed to put my daydreams down in writing for fear of judgement. I know that my growth as a writer depends on me getting over that fear because I'm sure it holds me back.

I usually write about the things I know and have experienced. It helps me arrange my thoughts, get to know how I respond to situations, how I can change, and share these revelations in case anyone else doesn’t want to feel so alone.

I have a very hard time confronting my feelings. Writing forces me to do just that.

Although I’ve been honest regarding alcohol abuse, depression, anxiety, and my general humanity questions, I still haven’t written much about the heaviest weight on my shoulders.

My husband.

I write about how much I love him and have a couple posts about our sarcastic conversations. I’ve been avoiding facing my feelings regarding his Multiple Sclerosis and my future as a caregiver. If I do that, I’ll break. I’ll fuckin break. I think the only thing we are not honest about is the sadness his disease brings us. We spend so much time letting the other know that everything will be fine, that I’m not sure we are taking care of ourselves emotionally anymore.

I don’t even know how to expand on that right now. It’s emotionally overwhelming. I stuff those feelings aside because I can’t break in front of him. I’m his rock. Writing should be mine.

I’m afraid. I’m afraid to feel helpless. I’m afraid to cry. I’m afraid to feel angry. I’m afraid to feel resentful. The truth is, I married him knowing he had Multiple Sclerosis and what that meant for our future. Sometimes I wonder how my life would be different. I’ve had moments when I’ve felt held back by his limitations.

Then I immediately feel guilty and hate myself for ever imagining an alternate life where I didn’t stay with him. Because, as mushy as it sounds, I love him with every molecule in my body. I love waking up early and seeing him sleep beside me, lying (laying?) on his belly, face mashed into his pillow. His fluttery eyelashes and growing beard. His odd nose that I always hated, but have grown to love. Just picturing it makes me want to bite him and kiss him all over his face.

I am in love with a man whose body is waging a war against him.

And it is so hard.