Come sit by me, Charlie.

1

I don’t really know how I feel this holiday season. I was feeling in the spirit a few weeks ago, but now, not so much. At the moment, I feel a little bit like this guy.

This has been one crazy year. The Year of The Surgeries… and they’re all good- not regretting any of it. It’s just The Surgeries lead to The Talks, and that’s what’s getting to me.

I’m going to fictionalize this a bit because I care about those involved, but I also need my internet friends right now. About 3/4 of the way through my first recovery, Roommate gave me shit for not doing housework. Trust me, I know how silly this sounds- I was there. I remember picking things up with my toes and uttering made-up swear words.

For perspective, and to be fair, Roommate has been dealing my bodily malfunctions for years now. I never asked to be sick. It took courage to face fixing the problems. I didn’t think I’d be dealing with this, too.

At the end of every round of surgery/procedure/whatever, Roommate calmly told me how much I sucked- that I didn’t help around, that I didn’t pull my fair share, that I expected too much. So, with this surgery… Yes, surgery, I went into it expecting to go back to tempjob right away. Did I want to? Does it matter? On the one hand, yes I did. I liked the work and the people. On the other, most people have a much longer recovery time.

I managed to convince my Dr that I would follow any and all advice. Triumphantly, I held that little piece of paper in my hand… only to have Roommate start again with the same lecture, and again reminding me that if I don’t clean up my act, that eviction is imminent.

I can’t afford to stand on my own right now. As it is, I am lucky to even be standing. I was told to come up with a plan- as if I haven’t had one all along. You can plan until you are blue in the face, but life doesn’t always go your way.

TL;DR: I’m scared.

 

 

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