I used to have a blog. I loved it; it consumed me. Like so many of us, we become lost in what we think we are and think we want to be. I lost my health along the way, and with it came many struggles with my mental health. I will be honest that losing parts of my external physical health (and appearance) affected me far more than I ever thought it would.
I got married. I’ve known him ten years, and we reunited just over two years ago. He proposed after two months, and we spent the next year and a half widdling down our engagement and marriage/wedding plans to something that would be acceptable for all. I wanted something small. Heck, if I’m honest, I didn’t want a wedding at all.
I tried on dresses and fell in love with the second one. It just fit, and I was in a good place in my life then, and it gave me (or accentuated) beautiful curves like I’ve never seen on me before. I loved it. I still look back on pictures from that time like, wow.
I’ve lost my health since that point. 40 pounds loss later and a diagnosis of mixed connective tissue disease and erythromelalgia, and here we are.
We had a small wedding with our immediate family, and the pictures are truly beautiful. But I see me, and I see sadness. I see loss and fragility and the last of my thin hair hanging on. It’s been tragic (internally…when really that’s incredibly vain to focus only on the physical loss). It’s not just physical loss though. It affects my wanting for sexual or physical attention, and here I am newly married, and my husband is already looking at other women. I don’t know what to do with that.
It took less than four months, and I already wanted out. I felt as though I should have trusted my instincts to not get married but rather stay partnered forever. There is something very scary and overwhelming about feeling caught in a situation where there is little out. Our home life is challenging. I work a demanding job from home, and he travels for work and is thus in and out. Our days off rarely overlap, and we’re both hanging on…doing our best to survive in this bizarre little life.
I do hope it gets better. He has a good heart and good intentions, and we try every day to make it better. It’s not even that it’s bad, per se. It’s just challenging, and we are mutually ill-equipped to make our lives better…together. I am sadly well able to make my life better solo, but it’s challenging to make our lives better together, and I think we’re both shy to override the other, but we are trying and that’s all you can do. Try, and hope…
I’m trying to bring writing back into my life and find that outlet and release and reprieve. So. Here we are. Starting again to find light from the inside…out. We shall see.