It’s not been easy. It’s not easy now.
It hurts.
It jars.
It doesn’t always fit.
And I’m not always sure.
At all.
But we’re here.
Fifteen years ago, we didn’t think we would be.
Ten years ago, we were convinced that we wouldn’t make it.
Five years ago, there was still so very much rain.
And now?
Now?
Now there are still days when I’d rather go into my room and pull the covers over my head rather than talk to anyone at all, including he whom I love.
But the storms aren’t always there.
Not always.
Not anymore.
See, we didn’t begin with love. We didn’t even marry for love. Many people don’t know that. Many people don’t remember that minutes before our ceremony, I warned him to run, to leave, to get out. With all the arrogance and selfishness of my twenty three years, I told him that I would be nothing but trouble. I told him that I didn’t love him then and probably never would. I told him that life hurt too much, that I was marrying him for escape, that I was using him and would continue to do so.
And then I cried.
He didn’t run. He didn’t flee. He didn’t even argue. He just held me. He told me that he had love enough for both of us. He rubbed his hands up and down my back and told me that it would be okay. He assured me that I may not love him YET, but some day I WOULD.
He told me he’d hang on.
That some day, some way
I’d fall in love.
He told me that he’d hang on.
Hang on.
Hang on.
He told me that he’d hang on because it was coming.
He was right.
It didn’t happen all at once, of course.
There was no pronouncement.
There were no fireworks. There were no trumpets.
Birds didn’t circle around my head and my heart didn’t beat faster when I saw him.
But he was right.
Slowly,
slowly,
Oh so very slowly
twenty three gave way to twenty five,
Twenty five gave way to thirty.
And then, a year later, the year I was thirty one, he became co owner of a shop and I became
not just his wife,
but his employee.
And the ice began to crack.
Then, six years ago or so, I was hit by a car. I couldn’t use my hands much, my hair was a mess and Kenny put my the whole thing into his first ever ponytail. It was awkward and sweet and reassured me that I was not alone.
And the ice began to crack even more.
A couple of years after that, other people were asked to teach “my children” at church.
I couldn’t foresee how much this would break my heart, but
Kenny did.
He knew that those preschoolers were part of my identity.
He knew how much it would continue to bruise.
I’ll never know how many conversations he initiated, nor will I know how many members he questioned.
I DO know that he did so.
He’s not a kid person.
He doesn’t care who instructs them, just as long as someone DOES.
He is, however, a ME person.
He loves me.
He loved me
and I was crumbling.
For a long time,
I was crumbling.
He couldn’t fix it, but he tried.
Quietly.
It was someone else who told me what he had done.
And the ice not only cracked. On that day, for that moment,
it began to melt.
It began
It began
It began
To melt.
And I began to see him as a gift.
I began to see him as the man that God had put in front of me.
To spend a life with.
And I thought that maybe
maybe
just maybe
it didn’t have to hurt
so much
Anymore.
And then
And then
And then
And then
came my diagnosis.
She looked at me and told me that I was
That I was
That I am mentally ill.
I am mentally ill.
I am mentally ill.
That
I will always be mentally ill.
Forever.
And this
What she said
Began to affect him too.
I am bi polar.
I will be forever.
I will forget.
He.
He will remember.
I forget.
I forget.
I forget so much.
I live inside my head.
I forget anything outside of my room.
I forget myself
I forget him
I cycle up.
I cycle down.
I cycle down.
I cycle down.
I cycle down.
This last year, I cycled down.
Very down.
I didn’t really leave the house for at least six months.
I forgot everything but my bed, my cat and my tears.
I forgot that it would be hard on him.
It was hard on him.
It WAS hard on him.
He faced the world alone.
But he had taken a vow.
He had made an oath.
He had sworn.
I forgot.
I forget.
I had forgotten.
He had not.
My counselor
She reminded him
Of what he already knew.
She reminded him to remember.
Even when I forget.
They both knew that I would forget.
Form a team, she told us.
She needs a team, she told us.
She’ll always be ill, she told us.
She’ll always need care.
My husband is not emotional.
He’s the Spock to my Scarlett.
The Head to my Heart.
But he loves me.
He may not understand being part of my team,
but he accepts the responsibilities.
Even with his million jobs
And twenty hour days.
He remembers.
He accepts.
He lifts me out of my chair when I haven’t showered.
He carries me to the water.
He tries to fix it when I’m hurt.
He wants to know what happened.
He puts up my hair when I can’t move.
He tucks me into bed when I can’t think.
He comes to my room and hands me food
when I haven’t eaten all day.
He remembers when I forget.
He loves when I do not.
He cares
He cares when I can’t.
It still hurts, of course.
Twenty years hasn’t taken away ALL of the heartache.
There are dreams that will never mature.
There are needs that will never be fulfilled.
There are children that will never be born.
Trips that will never be taken.
Stories that will never be written.
Words that will never be spoken
and
Sights that will never be seen.
There are things
that twenty three year old me
Could never have imagined.
Times
that twenty three year old me
could have never believed.
I’ll test him.
I’ll hurt him.
I’ll forget to remember.
But he won’t.
Twenty years on
and he won’t.
I have enough love for both of us, he said.
He was not lying
He told me that he’d love for me until I could love for myself.
He knew it would come.
I’m still learning how.
Twenty years on.
I keep forgetting.
Twenty three forgot
Twenty five forgot
Thirty forgot
Through dreams
And realities
Through hurts inflicted
And scars raised
Through battles lost
and won
I keep forgetting
I keep forgetting
I will always keep forgetting.
But not him.
Not him.
Never
Never
Him.
Twenty years on.
And he
He
He
Will remember.
And I
I
I will will be saved
over and over
because he does.
Because he does.
Because he never forgets
Because twenty years on
Twenty years on
Twenty years on
He still loves me.
Twenty years on
He was right
And he never forgets
He never forgets
He never forgets
To remember.