Got something to say

How to begin?

Perhaps with thanks for your concern.

The trouble was that this was not about one small slave but about Him and words hurt, particularly when you are not in a good place. He needed some space and to not be turned into a topic until some time had passed. And to be honest it was kinda nice to have a break from blogging. This blog is at His behest, sort of like having a conversation with one small slave (we work opposite ends of the clock) and not some innate desire to get stuff out... there is no issue with that (quite the opposite in fact). Besides, He finds it endlessly fascinating to see how our versions of events differ :D

So where to begin?

Perhaps with spirals... if one was looking for a motif for this it would be spirals.

Spirals are mathematically precise pieces of geometry. Starting with broad lazy rings they end with pinpoint precision. We also tend to think of them as going downwards...

He has had depression since he was a teenager. It was that black angsty depression that fuels poets and songwriters, right up until they level out or kill themselves.  Somehow He made it through the teen years to grow into adulthood, where the depression settled into a low grade constant companion that can largely be mitigated with vitamins, exposure to light and exercise. It has little spikes, but in the seventeen years that we have been together it has been more of a hindrance than a catastrophe. 

Amidst this He was diagnosed with hypertension and the beginnings of diabetes a couple of years ago. The meds made Him sick and off kilter so with ruthless efficiency one hauled our eating to the clean side. He lost a lot of weight and got a clean bill of health from the doctor. And for a year He was diligent, running and eating clean. Then his constant companion reared its head and he got less diligent. That led to weight going back on which made Him a little miserable, which gave his constant companion more of a foot hold until He stopped going to the gym.

Now personally one knew He was less than happy, but really one wasn't concerned. He always spoke up when things were bad and with constant health niggles of one's own; one wasn't paying attention to Him... well not as much as needed. Otherwise one would have looked at the weight gain and gone; why is that going on? He doesn't eat that much crap. It should have made one sit up and take notice and start poking around. Instead one noticed, while being resigned to the fact that just as you can't lead a horse to water, you can't drag someone to the gym. Besides there was enough on one's plate with all the cooking and food prep and getting to the gym, the doctors, the specialists and work and organising Him and meals and, and, and...

All of this came to a head last week...

It started with some little things; His birthday looming was one. Getting held up at work (hysterically funny though the story was (some people are not natural born robbers)) probably did not help to say the least. Not taking His vitamins for a couple of weeks before that and not exercising for a considerably longer time, along with being sick and not sleeping well, certainly added to the cocktail of circumstances. All of this conspired to send Him into the worst tailspin in twenty odd years. It was serious enough to make Him consider checking himself in to the hospital instead of going to work.

In the midst of this one discovered that He had been doing what most people with chemical issues do; self medicating. Oh not with alcohol (He's not that fond of the stuff), or drugs, or with lots of sex (those health glitches of one's have put a serious dent in that avenue), but with chocolate. Lots and lots of lovely chocolate. And it had been going on for quite some time.

So while one had been busting one's arse (and anyone who has ever cooked a meal with a migraine knows what one is talking about there) to keep us on the straight and narrow and Him out of an early grave, He had been going to work and committing suicide by *Freddo frog

So He ate chocolate you are thinking... well let's put that into context. One hundred grams (3.5 oz) of that stuff has half a daily fat allowance in it and not the good kinds of fat, one fifth of a daily calorie allowance for a grown man and about twenty percent of a carbohydrate intake... or in our case nearly all of a day's carb allowance. All wrapped up in a package of fats and sugars that make the pleasure centres of the brain light up like a Christmas tree and release chemicals that mimic serotonin in the brain. For Him the stuff is the equivalency of crack and every bit as addictive. He can no more just have a little bit of chocolate, than an alcoholic can have one small drink.

In some ways He was very lucky it was this mature adult version of one small slave that heard this tale. The old version would have taken a knife to His lying, cheating, deceitful arse...

OK this version did the verbal equivalency of the knife thing...

But the wounds will heal...

Eventually

*NB It is worth noting that those damn frogs come in a jumbo size these days...