stoic

I have been having more symptoms lately. And thus, my husband and friends have also experienced pain. I believe it is my duty to share my discomfort with them. Suffering in silence is not a thing in my world. I believe the suffering of holding in my suffering might be the tipping point. I literally, and I mean literally, might explode.

I admire stoic people. I watch them closely and try to emulate them. My husband has some serious pain from a life time of working hard. I only know this because I catch him grimace. He doesn’t have to catch me at anything, I loudly and dramatically inform him of all my trials and tribulations.

I try to be like them. I really do. But I am constitutionally incapable of keeping anything I think or feel inside. The other night that same stoic man and I were having a slight disagreement about something. He said something to the effect of, “ok, I heard you. You don’t have to keep saying it.” I am not even sure what it was. But what I realized in that moment was surprising, though it shouldn’t be with almost six decades of living behind me.

I saw that I actually DID have to keep saying it. I told him I would say it quietly so he didn’t have to hear but that if it didn’t come out of my mouth after entering my brain, I might die. So I stood at the kitchen sink and whispered those sentences he told me were unnecessary. “Really?!” was his only response as he walked off, shaking his head and sighing loudly.

So I have to say this now. I am uncomfortable and distressed at times by this baffling and frustrating MS. There, I feel better. Proclamations are my medicine. I love you, my stoic friends and family. I am sorry to inflict me on you. I know the way you love me is to suffer me in silence. That’s ok, because I am loud enough for all of us.