Sunday, April 6, 2014

That Awkward Moment When A Pop Singer Captures Your Life w/MS

I very well may be Demi Lovato's oldest fan.  I mean, do women who are on a 4-5 week color cycle typically have her songs on their iThingie?  Probably not.

(women under 30 are wondering what a 'color cycle' is...and my response is, "just wait, sister.")

Regardless of how often I may or may not have to pour unnatural goop onto my hair, or what my iThingie library consists of, one thing is for certain:

Demi Lovato nailed it.

Let me give you some background...

This morning, I had an argument with my husband.  While these are rare, they are usually bad.  They are bad, because arguing with one's spouse is bad.  In addition, they are bad, because I do not address things as they are happening.  Instead, I mentally record every "I-can't-believe-he-just-walked-past-that-giant-laundry-basket", every "I-know-he-didn't-just-drink-the-last-of-that-iced-tea-and-not-put-a-new-pot-on-the-stove", and every "did-he-really-put-that-mug-in-the-sink-when-I-just-loaded-the-dishwasher?"  And then?  After I've collected too many of those and begin to answer myself with, "yes...yes he did...", they all come flying out.

That is bad.

Like this morning.  I smashed my hand after losing my balance while descending the stairs with an overflowing laundry basket.  Hope you followed all of that.

We did the usual exchange, which goes a lot like...I yell, he stares, I yell some more, he stares, I ask him what he's looking at, he stares, I yell until I've tired myself out.  But not today.  Today he was snappish (after the first few rounds of stares).

him:  "Why don't you say you need help?"
me:   "Why don't you GET. UP.?"
him:   :::blank stare:::
me:   "Do you understand that my whole body is twitching and vibrating right now?  And that I should not have to carry these baskets all the time!"
him, snarky:  "How am I supposed to know that you're not feeling well and all...twitching and...!"

oh. no.


...and then I started to do this new thing where water leaked out of my eyes.  What could my husband do?  But stare?  And go to work?  Nothing.  That's what.  At least the tears stopped me from continuing to speak, 'cause I won't talk and cry, 'cause then people will know I'm like...crying.

Ugh, this.  It's just one of those realities for my husband and I.  And maybe for others out there in The Land of Invisible Symptoms.  I assume.  He assumes.  I assume some more.  I have enough of him assuming.  I explode and ruin my chances at Proverbs 31 Wife of The Month.  Again.  I tell him I'm sorry for arguing.  He tells me he's sorry for not realizing I need help.  I tell him it's not his fault he's not clairvoyant.  We laugh it off.  And I remind myself of what is trying to tear me down.  It's not my husband watching the morning news with a cup of coffee.  It's not the housework that never has an end point.  It's not even that person who takes the best parking spot.

It's ms.

And here's where Demi nails it.  She goes and sings a song about a building and I think we can all get with it, or at least certain parts.  Especially if you're a little silly like me and find it both humorous and simpler to personify ms at times.

Go on and try to tear me (us) down.  I (we) will be rising from the ground.  Possibly falling into the wall like this morning, but rising nonetheless.  Because skyscrapers.

Dear Demi:

It's okay that we're on a first name basis, right?  In any case, I greatly appreciate your music.  Someday, I hope to see you sing in person.  I'll be the oldest lady in the crowd with the scuffed left shoe and the 2 teenagers hiding their faces while I sing along.  Keep up the great work!


Tina (because we're totally on a first name basis)