What I want vs. What I can handle.
Well I'll be damned! You came back again. What's wrong with you? Clearly you must be a glutton for punishment. Good for you! I hope you know how much I appreciate your continued readership, particularly when it is quite apparent that I don't exactly write about the most fun topics in the world. So seriously, thank you even if you are just a silent observer of my little page. Even the smallest of contributions helps.
I've been thinking a great deal lately about my continued single status. While I hate it more than I can say I'm starting to feel that maybe it might be for the best. I'm only thirty-one years old and yet I'm on more tablets a day than my diabetic mother all thanks to my stupid CRPS. If that weren't bad enough I've had to start relying on a cane more and more often and I look at it as a good day if I can just about handle a fifteen minute run without crying from the pain. The costs in doing so now far exceed the benefits and that isn't how it is supposed to be for a woman of my age.
I try to overlook my everyday flaws and failings and concentrate purely on my medical issues but even that is fraught with implied hazard signs in brightly flashing neon. Who on earth would want to date someone incapable of doing the things she should be able to without trying so hard? You then factor in the type of man I tend to be attracted to. More often than not they're almost twice my age and yet they are in far superior physical condition. Hello inferiority complex!
I was going to skip it but what the fuck, let's bring up the issue of bedroom matters. Even if sex isn't on the cards from time to time (and despite my highly tuned sex drive not even I object to the occasional night off) the complications of my condition make me a right nightmare to sleep with. The weight of the duvet and the rubbing of the quilt cover against my leg drive me out of my mind from the sheer intensity of discomfort they cause. There are nights when no position is comfortable to sleep in and I weep out of frustration and would quite happily chew off my own limb if I thought it would put an end to the pain once and for all. And all of that happens when I'm on my own. Just imagine it if an innocent touch were to happen in the wrong place at the wrong time. The last thing I would want is to blame the person in bed beside me for something they can't do anything to control but I have a dreadful feeling that is precisely what would go down.
The simple truth is I don't want to inflict any of this on a person that I love. My mother doesn't know half of what goes on although that is for slightly selfish reasons on my part. If I tell her exactly how bad I feel she worries, then she makes me feel guilty for making her worry and lose sleep on my behalf. How the hell is that supposed to help anyone?! So I bottle it up and pretend that I'm okay, soldiering on like a good little trouper. Even my friends don't get the whole picture although I'm starting to fear that this won't remain the case for much longer. They don't need to bear my burden when they have enough of their own to carry on a daily basis. Vy tells me that I shouldn't deny myself a meaningful relationship and that if someone truly loved me they'd do so because of the good and the bad not in spite of them. Intellectually I know she's right but even so I just don't want to put another human being through it. I've been on that side of a relationship and regardless of how much I loved him it was very difficult to cope with sometimes. Nobody should go through that because of me; I simply won't allow it.
On that cheery note I'm going to call it a day. I'm getting a major league cramp and I need a nice big stretch which will hopefully result in a delicious crackling right down the length of my spine. Perhaps my crapped out excuse for a leg will join the party and grant me a few minutes of relief. I guess anything is possible but I don't hold out much hope. G'night all! Pleasant dreams and sweet awakenings to each and every one of you.
xoxoxoxoxoxo
I've been thinking a great deal lately about my continued single status. While I hate it more than I can say I'm starting to feel that maybe it might be for the best. I'm only thirty-one years old and yet I'm on more tablets a day than my diabetic mother all thanks to my stupid CRPS. If that weren't bad enough I've had to start relying on a cane more and more often and I look at it as a good day if I can just about handle a fifteen minute run without crying from the pain. The costs in doing so now far exceed the benefits and that isn't how it is supposed to be for a woman of my age.
I try to overlook my everyday flaws and failings and concentrate purely on my medical issues but even that is fraught with implied hazard signs in brightly flashing neon. Who on earth would want to date someone incapable of doing the things she should be able to without trying so hard? You then factor in the type of man I tend to be attracted to. More often than not they're almost twice my age and yet they are in far superior physical condition. Hello inferiority complex!
I was going to skip it but what the fuck, let's bring up the issue of bedroom matters. Even if sex isn't on the cards from time to time (and despite my highly tuned sex drive not even I object to the occasional night off) the complications of my condition make me a right nightmare to sleep with. The weight of the duvet and the rubbing of the quilt cover against my leg drive me out of my mind from the sheer intensity of discomfort they cause. There are nights when no position is comfortable to sleep in and I weep out of frustration and would quite happily chew off my own limb if I thought it would put an end to the pain once and for all. And all of that happens when I'm on my own. Just imagine it if an innocent touch were to happen in the wrong place at the wrong time. The last thing I would want is to blame the person in bed beside me for something they can't do anything to control but I have a dreadful feeling that is precisely what would go down.
The simple truth is I don't want to inflict any of this on a person that I love. My mother doesn't know half of what goes on although that is for slightly selfish reasons on my part. If I tell her exactly how bad I feel she worries, then she makes me feel guilty for making her worry and lose sleep on my behalf. How the hell is that supposed to help anyone?! So I bottle it up and pretend that I'm okay, soldiering on like a good little trouper. Even my friends don't get the whole picture although I'm starting to fear that this won't remain the case for much longer. They don't need to bear my burden when they have enough of their own to carry on a daily basis. Vy tells me that I shouldn't deny myself a meaningful relationship and that if someone truly loved me they'd do so because of the good and the bad not in spite of them. Intellectually I know she's right but even so I just don't want to put another human being through it. I've been on that side of a relationship and regardless of how much I loved him it was very difficult to cope with sometimes. Nobody should go through that because of me; I simply won't allow it.
On that cheery note I'm going to call it a day. I'm getting a major league cramp and I need a nice big stretch which will hopefully result in a delicious crackling right down the length of my spine. Perhaps my crapped out excuse for a leg will join the party and grant me a few minutes of relief. I guess anything is possible but I don't hold out much hope. G'night all! Pleasant dreams and sweet awakenings to each and every one of you.
xoxoxoxoxoxo