In health it was easy

In health it was easy. It was fun. She was kind, charming, loving even. She had an easy laugh and she joked around. When the mood lasted, it even made you forget how bad it could get the rest of the days. Sometimes things were so good he even believed the conversations they would have on a loop about how both of them were going to change things from now on. Start fresh. Sometimes weeks would go by without an argument.

And they would have these fleeting moments of peace and love and he would be reminded why he said yes god knows how many years ago.

But like the wind or the tides, she changed unannounced. And it was not her fault, he knew. She was sick, that monster in her brain had gotten the best of her. It made her cry on the floor in empty desperation. It made her sleep for days on end. It made her fight him, curse him, tell him she hated him. It made her want to do nothing, be nothing. It made her refuse and discredit the help she needed. It made her put on a happy face for everyone but him. It made his existence irriate her. It made them both so lonely and so hopeless.

In sickness it was unbearable. And he was not supposed to say it or complain about it because it wasn’t her fault, not truly. But it wasn’t his either. He wants to fix it, but he can’t. He’s supposed to help, but she won’t let him. He tries to be understanding, but the years chip at his patience. He fights back, knowing that he shouldn’t. He carries on, without knowing where it’ll lead.

Because when you’ve vowed to love someone, when you know that you have (though somedays, if only in thought, you guiltily doubt that you still do), you find it in you to bear the unbearabe. It isn’t healthy or right. It needs fixing, and knowing that is how he knows the monster hasn’t taken over him yet. Not entirely, anyway. But he pushes through because he promised he would. And he honestly doesn’t know what else there is to do.

And then, the good days come and in health her memory is wiped clean and her smiles finally enter their frontdoor. And they’re hopeful again that from now on... They’ll start fresh. It’s easy for a while. And then it isn’t again. And he wonders, on both good and bad days. And she wonders, when the monster decides to give her some peace of mind...

How much can our love take before the sickness breaks it?