Scared
My Mikey, I love you
∞ • π³ + 1
I’m afraid of the ways I have been feeling lately. Since My Mikey entered the hospital, I’ve been teetering on the edge of psychosis most of the time, falling off that edge from time to time.
I sent Lola into the store to buy Mikey some stuff today. After she checked out, she lost the food stamp card. I went WAY off the deep end, and probably got banned from the HEB, as well.
Oscar flared up like nobody’s business. He was already angry with Mikey about something. This morning, Mikey had called Lola, crying, because he couldn’t get a hold of me. That made Oscar angry when he found out. All he could hear in our head was Mikey screaming at us about not trusting him. So we called Mikey and told him. He said Lola wasn’t supposed to tell us about that call.
While on that call, Lola comes out and says she lost the card. Oscar screamed, "God-DAMNIT, Lola!" and told Mikey, "Lola just lost our food stamp card. I’ve got to go. Bye."
Thus began an ugly and terrifyingly FAST descent into a psychotic episode. Oscar screamed at Lola to FIND IT! Then, when she couldn’t produce it, he waited until she and Tia got into the car, sped around to the other side of the store, got out, slammed the door, stormed into HEB, went to the service desk……this is the scene inside HEB :
At the service desk, he says to the man at the counter, "Some silly bitch that I let use my food stamp card LOST IT! If someone turns it in, can I get it back?"
The man tells him that he can call tomorrow and see if someone found it and turned it in. Oscar says, "Ok, I think I’ll do that. I don’t know. I don’t FUCKING KNOW!" as he flaps his arms and stalks off.
Some Mexican man was staring at us, and Oscar yells, at the top of his voice, "Stare at something else, goddamnit!"
The front of the store froze, as if it were a freeze-frame in a movie.
I am embarrassed as hell that ANY part of me could act like that, after all this time.
We dropped Lola and Tia at the hospital, and then we came home and called Mama. Mama suggested a few things about coping with the situation, and they made sense. As usual, she urged me to be patient and understanding with "Laurie". She also asked me if I thought of my spouse as male or female when I said "Mikey". That was an interesting question.
After all, I think of Mikey as "Mom" and "Laurie" and "Aunt Laurie" and "my wife" so often that I never really give much thought to my spouse actually HAVING a gender. It’s like he lingers between, much as I feel I do. We’re both rather androgynous. I can deal with that. Don’t know if Mikey can.
I told Mama that I pretty much don’t associate a gender with any name my spouse goes by. I’d never really thought about it that way, and it may just help me deal with the whole transgender issue better.
<span style="font-fam
ily: Monotype Corsiva;”>I’m still petrified about the life changes that lie ahead. The doctors said they’re releasing My Mikey tomorrow, though, if I know them, that’s bound to change.
I don’t look forward to the next leg of the journey. It will be rough, and with my own resentment level building, feeling as if what hurts my feelings or bothers me doesn’t count….only what bothers Mikey….it doesn’t help things. Also, my physical pain isn’t as great, so it seems not to matter to anyone.
Case in point…..tonight, I was going to pick Lola and Tia back up at the hospital. Lola asked if I’d come up or if they should come down. I told her my legs hurt…my foot, particularly, because I have tendonitis in my left foot…so please come downstairs. No sooner had I said that than Mikey asks me to come upstairs to have a goodnight kiss.
Part of me was flattered that he’d WANT a kiss after all the fighting we’d been doing, but most of me was disgusted and pissed off because I’d just expressed that I was in a lot of pain, but did that matter? NO. Now I had to park the car, walk up to the front door, go to the elevator, walk to Mikey’s room, and hope there was a place to sit, which there wasn’t. Luckily, the Excedrin I’d taken had helped me not hurt as much, by that point.
Also, I got my Nexium refill today. Thank God. I’ve had the most atrocious acid stomach and heartburn the last few days. Again, it went completely unnoticed.
I know I’m not lying critically ill in the hospital, while my spouse actually IS….but I’d like a LITTLE consideration and attention, too. Isn’t this a 50/50 deal? Why do I have to carry the weight alone, then?
And why do I feel guilty for saying that?
Such is fucking life.
Jack