So it would appear that I’m sick.
Not just sick, actually, but Sick, in the way that some people are Old or Blind. I have enough things wrong with me that many duties normally expected of husbands cannot be reasonably expected of me. So says our therapist.
I can’t say I’m entirely sad about it. Honestly, I’ve suspected and argued as much for quite some time, and now that the weight of a degreed professional’s opinion has brought my wife around, it’s a tremendous load off my back.
Mind you, I don’t enjoy being Sick. I have a lot of things I would like to do, and lacking the energy to do many of them is very frustrating, given that most available energies must first be put towards things I have to do. But the idea that it’s Not My Fault is incredibly relieving, and at least gives me a target for my frustrations.
Many of the things I’m Sick with are currently undergoing treatment, and will simply take time to heal. Some issues have been put on the back burner as I’ve dealt with the more pressing ones, but their continued presence affects my overall Sickness, so now I have to turn my attention to some of the more obscure ones as well. It will involve a lot of doctor visits, a lot of time off work, and some short paychecks. But if, maybe a year from now, I am no longer Sick, I will be in a much better position to work through all the non-medical problems in my life.
For now, though, those will have to wait. I can keep myself awake with the fear that medical woes are ancillary, and not causational, to our marital strife, but there is really no objective way to make that determination. In the absence of all evidence, you use what data is presently before you. It’s obvious that I’m Sick. Fix that, and at the very least we’ll know what’s not wrong.