Awhile back, I had written a post entitled “My answers to commonly asked interview questions.” I really wanted to do a video based on that post, but wanted to create something even more ridiculous than the original script.
Making these “mini-sketches” (or whatever the term would be for them) has had advantages. I look forward to the next day, I get dressed, put makeup on, but am still having problems showering daily. But I am taking better care of myself. On the outside. The inside, well, I never really fully knew how to take care of.
There is something very different going on from an inside perspective.
When I was in my 20s, stress had the same results on my body as it does today. At 28 years old, I was married for a very short time. The excitement of finally having found a “mate” was overwhelming. Little did I know how far I was about to fall.
My “mate” expected me to have the same energy level as he did. At first, he seemed sympathetic to my situation. After only a few months, we decided to get married. It just felt right, you know?
The honeymoon was a disaster. In Europe, I spent the majority of time in bed. My husband was doing most of the sightseeing and photography by himself. I did not recover from jet lag until a couple of weeks after we got back home. I had seizures that were very traumatizing to everyone. My husband remarked that he didn’t think I really had chronic fatigue. According to him, I was trying to seek attention. My anger boiled inside and erupted. I screamed at him “You don’t understand me!” That’s when the real abuse started.
One day he simply remarked, “I want a divorce because you’re too tired all the time and we can’t do enough stuff together.” Even after the divorce, a suicide attempt, and counseling those words echo in my ears.
Nobody wants you because you’re too tired and you can’t do enough stuff.
Every once in a while there’s that nagging voice on my shoulder that says “Maybe you’re not as sick as you think you are. You can do this. You’ve got this.” Then I try “this.” Usually, whatever the “this” is, lasts for a maximum of two years before my body shuts down entirely.
I am going to be honest. I long for a caregiver. Someone who is gentle, kind, and non-judgmental. Someone who does not need to be educated about my condition. Someone who will advocate for me and love me. For who I am, not for who that person wants me to be. I’m not talking about a love interest. Just a caregiver.
I value my independence, but there is no denying that I need rescuing.
I am not OK on my own anymore. I am approaching the end of my studies and will need to find a job soon. Even a part-time job will drain everything from me. Work, sleep, work, sleep, work, sleep. I’ve done it my entire life this way.
What kind of way is that for anyone to live?
There’s a ridiculous side to me, and there’s the serious side. Unfortunately, expression of both sides ravages my body. My dysfunctional body is the only stable, predictable thing I have in my life. I can change my circumstances, the way I manage my day, even my attitude. I’m glad I have those abilities.
But my body will not change. It is always there, like a co-dependent narcissistic friend. Waiting for me with outstretched arms and a big smile. Only to beat me to the ground once I feel safe.
As someone remarked in the comments of this blog, life does not separate the ridiculous from the serious.
Funny is as much a part of me as chronic fatigue is. I just can’t help myself. I was born that way.
I feel as if my life started out as a job interview gone wrong. I thought I would be productive and achieve bigger and better things. Instead, I’m left wondering if I had even shown up to the right interview in the first place. But I accepted the job anyways.
Well, folks here’s my latest project filed in the “ridiculous.” Enjoy!
Starring: Marlies Vonn as herself, Kelto as Andre