Random fact, but here it is: for the first time in my life I’ve started to keep my pill bottles on my bedside table (which is really a bookcase not a table, but…). Not all of my pill bottles. Just my everyday meds and the ones I need most often for emergencies/when I’m feeling unwell. So like 6 or 7 prescriptions.
Anyway, I’ve always kept them somewhere else. In the kitchen, where I could easily hide them in the cabinet if I had company. But now they’re right there at my bedside. And they stay there.
Not too long ago, I had company (the fuckbuddy) over and he saw them all and said something. I can’t remember his exact words but it was a mixture of surprise and concern. We’ve known each other for years, but he’d never seen my medicine before, I guess.
There is a reason for this story. The same reason I started to keep my pills by my bedside. I’ve always kept them hidden from the men in my life. Away. So much so that I’d even forget to pack important pills when traveling with men, because I kept it all so compartmentalized.
But not anymore. I’m tired of breaking myself into tiny little pieces. Of holding so much back. Of pretending that I only have good days.
I’ve been dating for more than half of my life. And dating has been, more than anything else, a state of constant compartmentalization. Of showing only the pre-packaged dating version of me. And dating me is healthier and prettier and happier than the whole me/real me. IRL I have good days and bad days. Just like everyone else.
There’s that whole, “For better or worse” thing in marriage vows. I don’t envy married people most things, but I envy them that. The luxury of being their worse. And having someone who is supposed to love them anyway.
I have amazing friends and family who love me, no matter what. I’m not love-starved. It would be nice, though, to have a man who could actually SEE ME, warts and all. As a start.
Tags: fuckbuddy, Sick