My husband was very excited last night. He'd stood up to his parents in a way that was really hard for him, and he was proud of himself. He talked to me for a long time, telling me everything he'd said, how he felt, how it hurt, and how he was glad to have gotten it over.
It made me remember him. I kind of felt like I hadn't seen him in a while, or like I hadn't seen this side of him. I've had this feeling before...that, "Oh! Yes! I remember you!" recognition. His eyes were bright, and he was intelligent and passionate and vulnerable and beautiful.
I love him so much, and I'm so proud of him when I see that there might be another side of this disease...that there's hope. That maybe, he's getting better. That maybe he's trying, and the turmoil that I'm seeing is his struggle against his disease. That maybe we can be together, forever. That maybe I can have what I want, and maybe I can spend my life with the man I love. That maybe I can have myself and him, too.
That hope is a prison in ways, but it's a prison I choose for now.