Post by mirrororchid on Jun 16, 2022 5:54:52 GMT -5
The start of this essay series is found here.
Vowing to stay together if one of you gets seriously ill is one of the more romantic parts of typical vows.
It commits us to be more than friends. We often will not ask friends to give up large portions of their lives for our sake should illness incapacitate us to the point of hardship, suffering, or poverty (more on that later, I bet you guessed!) We do ask this of the person who promises, expects, and hopefully plans, to be with us until they die.
And why not? Not seeing things through and assisting you to get better, if you can, will substantially improve their own lives. They are one flesh with us. By healing you, they heal themselves. They may get back their travel companion, their lover, their helpmeet, their sous-chef, their exercise buddy, their fellow Game of Thrones binger.
The appeal of having someone ready to help us out of our sickbed or the grave is an obviously appealing prospect.
The flipside is that if you end up being teh healthy one, you're expected to make some sacrifices (see the LOVE essay in the series on why sacrifice enters in so prominently).
The healthy spouse fulfills the vow and can perhaps find satisfaction in having the privilege in stepping up for their side of the bargain first, or reciprocating when their turn has come around. For chronic conditions, this can mutate into a long-suffering resignation in which there can be pride in one's enormous strength, if one can carry one. Preferably with a spouse capable of acknowledging our sacrifice and cherishing our effort. (yeah, another plug for the series).
Part of the recognition of the healthy spouse's sacrifice may be a willingness for the sick spouse to sacrifice as well. They may need help even when the healthy spouse is unconsciously displaying signs of fatigue. They keep the stiff upper lip but they grow weary. There may be emotional fatigue as well as physical. There may be social detriments as every hour gets soaked up by caretaking. There is no respite; no relief. The healthy become very much like teh sick spouse: never leaving the house, finding little joy in life, just waiting for a recovery or miracle; numb.
The heroic, diligent healthy spouse becomes not just something the caretaker does, but something the caretaker is. Abandonment of hobbies, interests, education, activity, social interaction removes parts of the person. All this can be seen to happen even in good conditions, working our nine to five, paying bills, perhaps overextending ourselves, or getting slapped by a bad economy and finding ourselves struggling and focused on very little in our lives, chiefly money. It's noise to teh grindstone and no energy for anything else. Our spouse is there, conveniently by our side. Little effort needs to be made to engage in life that doesn't include a paycheck. It's easy to really on that to exclude other exercises. This is the stuff of co-dependency. The collapse of teh identity into worker, spouse, human, sometimes parent, and little more.
Caring for a chronically ill spouse adds an air of nobility to this co-dependency. There can be appeal if you were already there. Suddenly the homebody inertia has an air of heroism to it. You do what you always did, but no the co-dependency enjoys societal approval. The admiration of those that drop everything for their fallen spouse, in time, morphs into admiration of teh stoic perseverance of the spouse who watches over their loved on for a lengthy period.
It gets old. Who has not yet heard about the spouse's condition? The constant weight is well known and the kudos extended and long lasting, but the relativity of mood is expected to kick in. Sure, you're a bit down and glum. You're spouse is bedridden! You have every right! But is today better than yesterday? Tell us you're "Okay", knowing that "Okay" for you isn't as happy as ours. If you're having an especially bad day, please be sure to say "Okay" anyway, but quicker, quieter. We'll get it from your tone of voice. Actually saying your actually feelings obligates us to care and we have our own shit to worry about. Soon enough, it'll be our turn to be stapled to our beds or tending to our spouse who's planted there instead. We hardly need to add your shit to our future steaming pile. No offense.
We get the SICKNESS part. We do. The whole existential, sorrowful beauty of it. What can get lost is the HEALTH side.
<continued>
Vowing to stay together if one of you gets seriously ill is one of the more romantic parts of typical vows.
It commits us to be more than friends. We often will not ask friends to give up large portions of their lives for our sake should illness incapacitate us to the point of hardship, suffering, or poverty (more on that later, I bet you guessed!) We do ask this of the person who promises, expects, and hopefully plans, to be with us until they die.
And why not? Not seeing things through and assisting you to get better, if you can, will substantially improve their own lives. They are one flesh with us. By healing you, they heal themselves. They may get back their travel companion, their lover, their helpmeet, their sous-chef, their exercise buddy, their fellow Game of Thrones binger.
The appeal of having someone ready to help us out of our sickbed or the grave is an obviously appealing prospect.
The flipside is that if you end up being teh healthy one, you're expected to make some sacrifices (see the LOVE essay in the series on why sacrifice enters in so prominently).
The healthy spouse fulfills the vow and can perhaps find satisfaction in having the privilege in stepping up for their side of the bargain first, or reciprocating when their turn has come around. For chronic conditions, this can mutate into a long-suffering resignation in which there can be pride in one's enormous strength, if one can carry one. Preferably with a spouse capable of acknowledging our sacrifice and cherishing our effort. (yeah, another plug for the series).
Part of the recognition of the healthy spouse's sacrifice may be a willingness for the sick spouse to sacrifice as well. They may need help even when the healthy spouse is unconsciously displaying signs of fatigue. They keep the stiff upper lip but they grow weary. There may be emotional fatigue as well as physical. There may be social detriments as every hour gets soaked up by caretaking. There is no respite; no relief. The healthy become very much like teh sick spouse: never leaving the house, finding little joy in life, just waiting for a recovery or miracle; numb.
The heroic, diligent healthy spouse becomes not just something the caretaker does, but something the caretaker is. Abandonment of hobbies, interests, education, activity, social interaction removes parts of the person. All this can be seen to happen even in good conditions, working our nine to five, paying bills, perhaps overextending ourselves, or getting slapped by a bad economy and finding ourselves struggling and focused on very little in our lives, chiefly money. It's noise to teh grindstone and no energy for anything else. Our spouse is there, conveniently by our side. Little effort needs to be made to engage in life that doesn't include a paycheck. It's easy to really on that to exclude other exercises. This is the stuff of co-dependency. The collapse of teh identity into worker, spouse, human, sometimes parent, and little more.
Caring for a chronically ill spouse adds an air of nobility to this co-dependency. There can be appeal if you were already there. Suddenly the homebody inertia has an air of heroism to it. You do what you always did, but no the co-dependency enjoys societal approval. The admiration of those that drop everything for their fallen spouse, in time, morphs into admiration of teh stoic perseverance of the spouse who watches over their loved on for a lengthy period.
It gets old. Who has not yet heard about the spouse's condition? The constant weight is well known and the kudos extended and long lasting, but the relativity of mood is expected to kick in. Sure, you're a bit down and glum. You're spouse is bedridden! You have every right! But is today better than yesterday? Tell us you're "Okay", knowing that "Okay" for you isn't as happy as ours. If you're having an especially bad day, please be sure to say "Okay" anyway, but quicker, quieter. We'll get it from your tone of voice. Actually saying your actually feelings obligates us to care and we have our own shit to worry about. Soon enough, it'll be our turn to be stapled to our beds or tending to our spouse who's planted there instead. We hardly need to add your shit to our future steaming pile. No offense.
We get the SICKNESS part. We do. The whole existential, sorrowful beauty of it. What can get lost is the HEALTH side.
<continued>
