I started getting really depressed today. For those of you who may know what I am going through with Vaginismus, you may very well know what I am getting so depressed about.
I called David at work. I needed to hear his voice and him tell me that everything was all right, that he still loved me no matter what, that he was willing to make things work. He took a 15 minute break off work, and after I poured my heart out to him and had a good cry, he paused and said,
“You should be here. There are these ants at my feet, and one is carrying a maggot three times his size.”
I laughed a little. Silly ant. Didn’t he know how small he was? I put the ant in retrospect, remembering how my father told me (with distaste in his voice) I act like a married woman, remembering how painful it was, remembering David’s tears and his smiling face, remembering my hopes and dreams. What is happiness? Because that ant seems pretty darned happy carrying a maggot three times his size on his back. Yeah, it’s a heavy load, but he’s got a purpose, a direction in life.
Text message, “Baby, there’s always going to be fights, not everyday, though. You know you have the right to leave anytime you want. I seriously think if you talked more it would make things easier.”
Yes, I have an issue with talking. I can write pages and pages, but when it comes to expressing my true feelings in speech without index cards, I’m at a complete loss for words. David is not the only one who has noticed this. My family has gotten frustrated on various occasions because I have such a hesitancy to say what I am truly thinking. I keep things suppressed until the very last minute, and then I blow up.
Perhaps I’m just another ant carrying a maggot. And I don’t mean that in a demeaning way. Perhaps I am one more person carrying her load, working her muscles out so that one day she’ll be strong enough to carry other, more heavier things.
To get myself out of this funk, I will:
-go swimming
-take a nice, long luxurious bath/shower with all my favorite things
-paint
