This is going to break my mind.
I have always been fiercely independent. Sure, I have no problem asking questions about how to do things, such as at work, but I don't like for people to do things for me. I like it even less when they have to do things for me. In collge, I dated this very nice boy, Sean, one Fall. Over the previous Spring and Summer, we had become very good friends. We talked almost every day, we took a trip to Canada (hey, that is what we did where I grew up!), and I really liked him. I especially liked him because we could joke around with each other, and he treated me like a friend--not a "girl." But when we got back to campus in the Fall, everything changed. He was super way too nice, smothering even. He opened every door, did everything for me. I started to hate him. On some level I knew that it was his way of showing me that he cared about me, but the majority of my brain was repelled by the whole thing. A week later I dumped him, citing my impending (in four months) trip to England and fear of long-distance relationships.
Obviously, I know that my "I will do that myself" attitude is not always easy to deal with. It is not just little things I do, but big stuff as well--life changing decisions and whatnot. For example: buying a car (twice), deciding to go to grad school far away from home (also twice), stuff like that. Sometimes, this is not a big deal. But, some of this stuff is big--and when you share your life with another person, it can be really hard to make things run smoothly. I also know my attitude makes me really impatient. When I do ask someone else to do something for me, I expect it done immediately. This is a cause of much bickering in my house; Matt and I do not share the same concept of time, to the point that quantum physicists could probably publish a theoretical paper about it. Over the years, I like to imagine that we will work out a system. For now, it just makes us both a little insane. As a general rule, I just do the stuff that needs to be done, and if I don't have time for all of it (like the laundry), his stuff gets ignored (which also makes me crazy because then it takes him three weeks to get to it, and the whole time I can see the pile of laundry or papers or whatever. Ack!)
Deep breath.
Recently, however, I have been saddled with this:
Yes, it IS a hot pink cast that goes from my thumb all the way to my mid-upper arm. F**king awesome! No, not really.
First of all, I have enough fiberglass on my arm to make a boat (small, yes, but fast). Second, I can't do many, many things while this is on my arm, because, well, I can't use a number of the very important joints and appendages that only took 45 million years for our species to develop so I guess they are pretty useful, and I am going to need those back.
I have gotten pretty good at the big stuff--I can dress myself, drive my car, and type--that I need to function. But I can't do any of the things that make me happy. I can shower, but I can't open the shampoo bottles. I can't do my hair or put on make-up. (Okay, that is true any day, but it is even worse now, if you can imagine.) I am not allowed to run, because of the weight of the cast. I can go to the gym, once I figure out how to tie my shoes, which is not looking good. It is also really hard to eat, because I am not particularly dexterous with my left hand. I can never get stuff on my fork or spoon. I love to eat, and this is making it miserable. Two things will happen:
1. I will finally lose that last five pounds.
2. I will freak out, buy a bunch of prepackaged junk meant to be eaten with one hand, and gain 40 pounds.
Hmmm... which sounds more like me? Exactly. If you love me, ignore any and all requests for Doritoes, Hostess cakes, Combos, and whatever else I try to get you to feed to me. Otherwise, after the cast comes off there will be months of posts whining about how I am so fat I can only wear sweatpants and it will be all your fault!
Perhaps the worst thing at this moment is that I cannot clean anything; I can't wash dishes or fold laundry and I am a spaz with the vacuum because I have never done it with my left hand before. All of this means that I am at the mercy of Matt and his cleaning schedule. (Sound of mind bending, dangerously close to breaking.) As previously mentioned, this is going to lead nowhere good. It has not even been a week and there are already dishes in the sink and giant balls of cat hair on the floor. I am already thinking about staying in a hotel...
At some point in the next few weeks, I am sure I will be able to see the bright side of all this. I will write a post about all the cool things I have learned how to do with just my left hand. But for now, in these first days, all I can feel is the helplessness, and it is making me angry and depressed. I feel trapped by this cast, and generally useless at life. I will not go on at length about this, because I know that many of you are also incredibly independent people (that is why we are friends, otherwise I would have slapped you by now), so you know how I feel. And thank you for listening, and helping me feel better.
So, maybe, can you just bring me one bag of Doritoes? Just, you know, to get through these first few days? Also, I will need you to stay and do some dishes....
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