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...
