Lightbulbs

A few days after I got married and I was moving my things into his apartment, I changed a lightbulb in the kitchen. I accidentally dropped the blown bulb and it shattered.Then I fell off the counter I was standing on. My husband as he’s pulling out glass shards from my arm simply forbids me from ever changing a lightbulb. I’m 5’2. He’s 6’4. It seemed at the time a pinky promise I’d never break. I didn’t change a lightblub for 20 years.

Then he left.

I ended up at my Sir’s place crying hysterically. This is when my Sir should be considered for Sainthood because he spent hours holding me over my broken heart about another man. I was irrational and asked who would change my lightbulbs, not expecting an answer. He told me that he’d change my lightbulbs. I was so shocked that he would take on the burden of my lightbulbs. But I had his collar and my lightbulbs were his lightbulbs.

Then he left.

There was noone to run to. The burden of me and my lightbulbs was my own. I had no safety net. I had no person. But this time I was ready. I cried my tears over everything I’d lost but landing on someone’s sofa crying hysterically over who would take care of me wasn’t necessary. I knew the answer.

A few days ago, three days after chemo (The WORST day) my car wouldn’t start. I drug myself off the couch and found my phone. I wasn’t scared or panicked like I would have been years ago. Walking back into the living room I hear my mother telling her husband that she needed him to come over and look at the car because she just did not know what to do. I told her that I didn’t need her to fix my problems. She countered with she needed her husband to feel useful. No. That isn’t my problem. My problem is my car and I am getting it taken care of.

That night I called my former Sir. I told him about the car and my mother and her husband. He inquired about the car and asked how I was feeling.

“I need to tell you something. Don’t be offended because this is kinda great for me.”

“Okay shoot”

“Remember about my lightbulbs and how scared I was? Well I’m not. I just realized it. This was way bigger than a lightbulb and AND AND!!!! I’m sick and still did it. I’m super happy with myself.”

“I am really proud of you.” He chuckled at my enthusiasm.

We talk occasionally and he’s my biggest supporter. He told my years ago sitting on the sofa during one of my many hysterical breakdowns that I could change my own lightbulbs. Back then I thought he was crazy.

Today I think he’s right.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s