“Give it to me”
Two weeks ago today was John’s surgery. It feels like two months.
I really don’t feel like giving much of an update. Suffice it to say, it’s been a rough time. John’s recovery has been sidelined with some unexpected complications — nothing life-threatening, but definitely impeding and disheartening. The stress has been huge, as well as the amount of work I have to do when I’m with him. I love the man (obviously), but he is not an easy person to take care of. So when I’m there, I’m stretched paper-thin, physically and emotionally, and when I’m home, I’m beside myself with worry and frustration. It’s exhausting.
Today, Steve came over.
Hugging me close at the door, he observed, “You’ve lost weight.” I’m not quite sure how; I have been making sure to eat and drink. I haven’t gotten to the gym as often as usual, but I have exercised. Maybe the constant stress is burning more calories. Whatever.
I caught him up with everything. We talked. He said, “You need to be over my knee, don’t you.”
I have cried countless times since this all started, particularly the past week. Yesterday at the gym, for example, I spontaneously welled up three times while on machines. These tears seemed to come from a bottomless pit and I felt no better after I shed them. Today’s tears were different. They came on immediately — I don’t think he’d given me more than half a dozen slaps. From the start, it felt like I was being drained of poison.
It hurt a lot at the outset, as it had been three weeks. Like a mantra, Steve’s voice behind me intoned, “You need this. You need this.”
And as the tears became sobbing, I heard him say, “You’ve been carrying all this around for way too damn long. Give it to me. Let me take it. Let me carry you for a while.”
Afterward, he pulled me into his arms and I continued to weep. I was mortified to see that I’d left large wet blotches on the shoulder and chest of his t-shirt. But he didn’t care.
He gave me a little extra with the riding crop and the Lexan paddle, just to finish me off. And when he had to go, he put me to bed like a child, as I was limp with tiredness. Wouldn’t even let me walk him to the door.
I slept for an hour.
The problems are still there. Tomorrow, I have a long day ahead, taking John to two doctor appointments. But for this moment, I feel boneless, melted. He took my tension away.
Just for today, I think I may not lose my mind after all.
Thank you. ♥