What comes second? My marriage. If I don’t have a strong partnership, my partner and I will not be the best parents we can be.
Carol and I needed some time together. The kids would be going to my mom’s while we went out to a New Years party (for the first time in years), but it was a stag and doe for Carol’s friend and, as a bridesmaid, she’d be busy helping. My mom agreed to take the kids a day early and have them for two nights.
Carol and I had some quality time in the evening, then the morning after. Though we still have yet to have intercourse, we have given each other more orgasms over the past five months than we’ve had over the course of a year for the past five, maybe even ten years. We’re making progress but there is a lot of trauma, emotional and physical, affecting my ability to perform.
On New Year’s Eve morning, I saw my therapist again. This session was just a talking session instead of hypnotherapy. I wanted it to be that way because I needed to talk through the anger.
We talked about my sex life, anger, and lack of trust for Carol. The therapist really questioned my belief that Carol would never go back to him. I then told her how she doesn’t have the full picture and sometimes the questions she interjects with before I’m finished telling a story give me new things to obsess over, even though I know they aren’t true.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to give you new thoughts to obsess over. I was just trying to understand the history. We’re going to work on calming that part of your mind so you can enjoy the moment instead of worrying and obsessing. We’re going to work on your emotional health and then we’re going to work on your physical health,” she replied.
Near the end of the session, she asked what my goals in life were. My answer was basically to just be alive and see my kids grow up, which wasn’t good enough for her. Finally, I had a breakdown about my health.
“You know what I want? To stop being constantly shit on by my health issues! I turn 30 and what happens? ‘You’ve got cancer. You need aggressive chemo.’ Spinal tap and everything. 30 years old and I’m a fucking dead man! That was it for me. Dead at 30. But no, then it’s ‘just Sarcoidosis.’ Yep, no problem, it’s totally cool. Dr. House, on his fucking show, ‘turns out it’s just Sarcoidosis, very treatable.’ Yeah, it’s in my lungs, my liver’s enlarged, it’s in my skin, my lymph nodes are always swollen and hurting. My rib cage, too sensitive, don’t touch it please. Can’t exercise cause I never recover from any kind of serious workout. Guess what? Now you have kidney failure. Lots of surgeries and I can’t eat what I want or even enjoy a day out in the sun anymore. I’m not even 40 yet and now it’s heart problems. It just keeps taking and taking and taking and taking. When will I no longer have any quality of life?
You know what I want? To live, not just exist in pain, losing everything bit by bit.
You know what I can really hope for? Now that my heart is involved, maybe I can have a quick death. I’m so goddamn sick of the constant shit piling up on me, sometimes the thought of just suddenly dropping dead sounds just fine to me.”
The therapist tried her best to give some encouragement and reassurance as her next appointment waited outside then I left to continue my day.