Go Drop Dead.

My husband is in the hospital today. Kinda wanna shake the shit out of the boy and remind him that's my place but—ya know—covid restrictions and all. I could have visited between 4PM (when my weekly meeting with my editor took place) and 8PM, but he declined. Stating: rest. For the both of us.

Fair. We needed a rest. Separately and together. His hernia operation two weeks ago seemed to go smoothly on the outset, but he's been in pain since. And agressive since. Going from the cared for, what with my barely functional body filter known as a lover, to the caregiver is challenging enough. While also being task I accept and take on with pride, facing it for half a month has driven me to a surprising place;

Apathy. Population me.

Now, do not misunderstand my poorly constructed sentences. I have extreme empathy for him, his medical situation, and frankly any living being in pain—especially my husband. The gigantic but you can see coming from a mile away, the true caviat is I am a reactionary asshole, and I respond to agression in kind. Regardless of its source. Regardless of knowing the cause of said aggression.

Basically, someone “comes at me” and I bring it. The fire and brimstone. The pain. Whatever imagery you care to invoke for yourself. I come ready to fucking fight when I'm challenged, and he's been providing that fight daily since his surgery.

Three days ago, he told me to drop dead. And the apathy set in.

I know compartmentalization when I experience it. I'm a master. It's not a bragging point, but a recognized feature of Haley. Bitch can give it, she can take it, and she can stack demons it that closet higher that you'd imagine possible. Stacking cash like Tetris would be better, but I am not Mulatto nor am I a Bitch from the Souf.

Song references aside, words matter. Words wound. And those words hurt, but they should have hurt more. The pressing question on my mind is, did I instinctively turtle so fast that the words missed me completely? Bouncing off dented armor erected through years of verbal abuse because people want to throw words around like they don't mean anything.

To me. A writer.

Words in the forms of broken promises. I'll never leave you that way has been fucking me up for years, but I actually spoke with my muse and I have some edge of resolution with her abandonment.

But at least she didn't tell me to drop dead. Considering my own love affair with specific ideations in my past, it's hard to believe anyone that loves me could say that. However, I know he loves me. I've simply got to come to terms with the fact he also instructed me to go die.


Love always Haley -10:43 AM, March 31st, 2021