Gag Order

I have so many friends having a hard time right now. Sometimes I feel guilty for being so happy.

You know how that is?

I mean, I've been down--really, truly, horribly down--quite a few times in my life. Good God, two years ago I was still crawling out of the Depths. They were there for me then and since. Goodness knows DraftQueen became my best friend out of those times. I wouldn't have met her if it hadn't been for blogging through the pain.

Most of my life has involved depression to one extent or another. I'm not entirely free of it now, though not nearly to the extent of What Was. I still have plenty of challenges and discouragement, especially on the political and career fronts. I mean, good lord. MTL has seen me raging around the living room ranting about all the anti-woman and anti-union and anti-teacher SHIT that is going on in this sad, sad country right now. More than once.

(Thank God that while we don't see eye-to-eye in all political areas, we do match up for the most part on those ones. Otherwise heads might roll. I've been THAT heated about it all, peoples. IT'S EVEN SHOWN UP ON MY FACEBOOK WALL. That's saying something, considering my conflict-avoidance tendencies.)

Anywho. Where was I? Oh right. I've been there.

However, despite those challenges, I can honestly say that I am happier than I have been in...well, decades. Since before kindergarten, I'd venture.

Meanwhile, many of my friends and loved ones are facing crisis after crisis. Health. Jobs. Family. Relationships. Depression verging on and tipping over into despair. Even war.

Sometimes, I just feel guilty. I don't know what to say, other than I love you and I understand and I'm so sorry. I wish I could gather them up for hugs, offer them tea and sympathy, but almost none of them live in physical proximity.

And when I want to gush about my own happiness, my wedding plans, my adoration of the man with whom I will spend the rest of my life...Well. I try to hold back, at least. Even then, I wonder if I'm saying too much. Should I just shut up?

I wish I could fix it.

Stupid broken world.

Aphasia

I am a Word Nerd. I love words. They are significant in both sound and meaning. I need them. They have power in my mind: power to hurt, power to heal. MTL has learned and is still learning that the specific words he uses mean a great deal, and there are times when he has to think carefully about not just the intent behind the words, but the words themselves.

I imagine this makes life with me more difficult than not.

You would think, then, that I would be silver-tongued and fluid, always with the right words to say, ready to be said at the right moment. In some situations, this is the case. Put me in a classroom and I do quite well. Place me at a keyboard and I also do well. Usually.

Add stress and conflict and difficult emotions, however, and the story changes. Ask me to express my deeper feelings, my innermost thoughts, and my tongue trips and falters and stills.

Last night I lay with my head on MTL's lap, watching TV, and I turned to look at him. I reached out a hand, touched his cheek, and said, Do you have any idea how much I love you?

How much? he asked.

I should know better. It's not the first time I've said something like that. Not the first time he's returned the volley and called me out. How much do I love him? How do I express it?

I don't know how to bridge the gap between thought and tongue at times like these. Do I list all the things I love about him? It's an insufficient list. I feel like I'm only skimming the surface. Do I try to explain, as I cannot even here with the space and time to write it out, the way he has become an integral, essential part of me? How do I do that without making it sound like I've lost myself, become less instead of more? How do I say anything without sounding like a mawkish teen caught in the throes of twitterpation? How do I explain this without mimicking the trite phrases of Hallmark cards?

None of my words are enough. The only ones that make any sense are those written by others straining to put into concrete letters the intangible substance of emotion. I look mainly to e. e. cummings, who at least grasped that conventional language was not enough, and his love poems resonate like no others do for me.

Such as today, when I am overwhelmed with the evils and frustrations of the world, and leaden January weighs my mind, and so

in spite of everything
which breathes and moves,since Doom
(with white longest hands
neatening each crease)
will smooth entirely our minds

-before leaving my room
i turn,and(stooping
through the morning)kiss
this pillow,dear
where our heads lived and were.

            --e. e. cummings

I am struggling to feel sufficient: in my work, in my parenting, in my love, in myself. I am struggling to hold onto hope when my mind so much more naturally turns to despair. And how do I bridge the gap when my words refuse to take shape?

This much, I said, and I stretched my arms out and away from my breast, shoulders straining at their edge.

Is that all? he asked, laughing.

Hey! I spread my arms as wide as I could! It was an obtuse angle!

You're an obtuse angle! he replied, and he laughed again and hugged me close.

I don't know if he truly understood what I was trying to say, what I'm trying to express when I make those oh so limited sounds and gestures.

I wish he could see into my mind, feel what I feel, know what I know. I just don't have the words.

Snarky Love

The following conversation took place after I had mentioned something about myself (which I don't quite remember now) and MTL had responded with a bit of surprise.

Me: I know I told you about that before.

MTL: Yeah, but that was like, four years ago or something.

Me: (laughs) So how long, in nonliteral terms, have we been together?

MTL: At least ten years, I'd say.

Me: Well, that does kind of make sense. Sunday is ten months. So that puts us at about a year per month, right?

MTL: Sounds about right.

Me: Boy, that could get confusing when people ask us about it. Just think of what it'll be like when we're in our forties!

MTL: "It's been, what, honey? A couple hundred years?"

Me: "At least a hundred and twenty."

MTL: "Yep. Loooooong time."

Me: "When we said 'forever,' we meant it."

MTL: "Yup. And the bitch just won't die!"

The fact that we then erupted into laughter and ended on a kiss says volumes about why we fit each other like a frickin' two-piece puzzle.

We're crazy like that.