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I do not think it means what you think it means
December 17, 2004 | Category:
For all my words (blah, blah blah) I was so emotionally constipated 10, 15 years ago that I would expect my friends to get a 1000-word essay on my feelings out of the phrase "I'm fine".
Like those talk, dark, and silent types - when it came to anything real, I would use as few words as possible. Look at my deep green eys, look at my sad, wistful smile, I say "I'm fine" and I shrug a little and then I move away.
Can't you tell? Aren't you fricking PSYCHIC? I'm DYING HERE.
Then? I got over myself. I learned that the world of magic thinking is counter-productive to happiness. Especially? MY happiness.
I learned to say "Life sucks"; I learned to say "Squeeee!"; I learned to say "Ouch, that hurts"; "I learned to say "Down a little and to the left".
But just to be sure that the universe made its point, I married someone just like I used to be. No. Wait. ....WORSE.
Oh, look at the tall dark anti-hero, leaning against the door. Look into his deep brown eyes. See his blank face. Hear him say, in a monotone, "I'm fine."
What? You didn't get from this that he's had an excuciating commute home, too much work on his desk to even think about dealing with in the morning, and a wedgie all the way up to his intestines?
Me neither.
All this and a bag of me being Mommy McMartyr, taking responsibility for all our lives.
So why am I still here?
Because... he's my husband, he's my anti-hero, he loves me to places that aren't on the map, he stands guard over our home and our family like a Marine, and he looks so hot in black leather that it makes my teeth hurt. And?
Because I knew what I was marrying when I married him. We'd found a path, back then, a private place where we could communicate.
A path we've lost and are looking to find again.
This habit we got into - me taking care of him - it was a bad habit. Up there with those Marlboro Lights that took a decade to quit. Maybe worse. Yeah. Worse.
We are re-drawing the responsibility map and it is hard. And I wish, Philip - I wish so much that we could re-start the clock.
This is the dry, dusty, hard trail. There is no mercy in it. I hate it. I absolutely hate it. I hate that we let things slide too long and I hate paying the price.
And I hate that here and now, I'm stumbling in my faith. I hurt, I despair, and I am barely a step away from the chasm. Inside me, I visualize where we are going and I am reaching for it. Inside me? I have hope, and love, and desire.
But. Just this second? Now?
I'm not fine.
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