A Man Among Men

One week ago, I was in a bit of a slump.  While my overall mood was brightening a bit each and every day, I was not yet myself.  I felt weighed down by recent events and as hard as I tried, I couldn't rid myself of the feeling that it was as though my legs were coated in a light layer of lead.  I was still slightly numb from the past few months and simply couldn't grasp and hold onto the 'normal' feeling that I so desperately desired.

While it was no longer a struggle to get out of bed, I still had collisions of anxiety and nerves that would hit just hard enough to send me running to the nearest porcelain god.  Was it trying to to do everything once again (I'm not, it just sometimes feels that way) and the fact that I am working so hard to make myself fit, but don't feel like I'm ever going to hit that 'perfect' point?

One week ago tonight, I had a bit of a meltdown.  I say "a bit" as try as I might, I simply couldn't gather the steam as I had in the past.  Yes, I was still upset about the surgeries and the way I looked, but the anger was not coming as quickly or as strongly as I had previously experienced. I felt as though the more 'normal' my life became, the fewer arguments I had regarding my unhappiness.  I was failing miserably at arguing about Tamoxifen or radiation since Peter doesn't necessarily disagree with me.

The meltdown actually, oddly enough, stemmed from a Facebook status update Peter had typed that morning.  He typed the following words and I melted the first time I read them:

‎19 years…it has been 19 years since the day I first saw the woman who would one day be my wife. We were only 19 then, which means we have spent half of our lives together. Seeing her then for the first time, I couldn't have predicted how I would spend the next half of my life, but I'm glad I got to spend it with her! Love ya babe!

Who wouldn't swoon the minute the words jumped out?  I couldn't formulate an appropriate response and ended up finally replying, "You, too!".  Why were the words so hard to come by?  With the exception of my hair being better these days (yes, really), I was instantly thrust into the past.  My body at that time was younger, leaner and despite my penchant for sodas and Pizza Hut personal pan pizzas, healthier.  There was no hint of the troubles to come nor how our lives would change so dramatically.  Granted, we had yet to meet and were not even remotely looking ahead to graduation, much less a house, globe-trotting career (on Peter's part), 3 children and, well, life in general.  

The status update kept me going and thinking all day long.  I couldn't put the thought out of my mind that Peter could have saved himself months of misery (my word, not his) had he simply ignored me 19 years ago.  He could be happily married to someone who wasn't dragging him down, altering his career course and making him fret more than he should on a daily basis.  By the time the kids were in bed, the meltdown began.

I couldn't muster the strength I needed and Peter easily held his ground.  I had not ruined anything, my body was fine and I needed to quit worrying.  I kept pounding away, though, primarily at the way my body felt.  A small part of me wanted to simply explain my true fears, that somehow he also felt that I was now far less than perfect and he just wasn't being honest, yet I couldn't bring myself to say it.  Finally, as I felt he just couldn't take the same old argument anymore, I brought up the Facebook mention.  I looked at him and asked how on earth he could love anyone who looked like I did, how was it possible that he didn't cringe just looking at me.  After all, I couldn't look in the mirror…how could he feel as though I was worth having?

He stood up and just prior to embracing me, stated

(insert most delicious, yet loving 'sweet nothing' that your spouse/partner/husband/wife has ever EVER said to you at the moment you most needed to hear it)

and it was as though the years melted away.  Then he remarked how the surgery didn't have to be an ending, but perhaps this could be a new voyage of discovery for us.  

He didn't walk away, didn't leave, didn't reject me.  Any time over the past 8 months he could have opted to make a different decision.  After all, I was in full agreement with his choice to spend a year in Baghdad.  I knew that it was not the ideal scenario for a happily married man and yet I never worried that he would stray.  The time apart didn't hurt us.  Yes, we were both sleep-deprived and stressed, but he needed me as much as I needed him.  We talked more than we had in ages (if possible) and grew closer despite the thousands of miles between us.  As my friend, Jill, poignantly pointed out in her post yesterday, one can't ignore the fact that things can and do happen.

Then he came home as my world was caving in.  He took over most of the responsibilities with the kids and house, made nearly every appointment for me and tried to better any aspect of our lives that could be considered remotely unhealthy.  He refuted all of my arguments regarding everything from my guilt over the circumstances to my assurances that our lives would never be the same because of me.  He had reason more than ever to be completely unhappy and yet he reaffirmed his love for me on a daily basis.  

In the end, when I thought I might never feel normal, never feel like baring my soul (or anything else, for that matter), he enlightened me.  He let me know that not only was he not frightened or angry at the changes, but that they could perhaps be new and exciting, instead of scary and different. He knew I would need time to realize that my body might not be the same, but that not everything had to change.  He held me when I cried, slept by my side even when nothing was comfortable but the couch and never wavered in his allegiance to me.  

I also had no idea how I would spend the past 19 years when I was but 19, but am quite sure of how I will spend the next 38 plus…happily ever after, no matter what else comes our way.