My psychiatrist--yes, you read that right--is in awe of my support system. Loving parents who put their life on hold to help out, a husband who is the poster child for supportive partner and involved parent, a sister whose tough love is really masking her gentle nurturing, aunts whom, from across the waters, call every so often to provide words of encouragement. All this from people who have thier own demons and troubles to deal with and conquer.
I wish they'd all just let me be. Why is giving in not an option? Why is giving up not acceptable? Why did I have the 'awe'some luck to be part of a family whose motto is 'look for the silver lining'? What is so wonderful about being strong?
I want the luxury of wallowing in misery. I want to revel in my weakness.
"You must be very grateful," she says.
"No, I'm an ungrateful bitch, who wishes they'd just all shut up and leave me alone," I say.
She laughs this off, a bit hesitantly at first and then more confidantly, because didn't I just spend 20 minutes elaborating on how wonderful they are? And I can agree with her that while I did, telling the truth and liking it aren't the same thing.
So I lie to her, too. Experience tells me it's just easier that way.
~
Updated to say: God, I even lie to myself. Supportive husband, my ass. Gah.
