Don’t talk about it. Keep your feelings to yourself. Oooh, do I need to treat you with kid gloves? You’re really gonna go there? I did not sound that way. It wasn’t meant like that. Makes you feel bad? Listening to you nitpick everything I say is making me feel bad. That’s how I feel about it!
I won’t bug you. Minimal texting while you’re at work. When you get home, you’ll talk to me while you change into comfortable clothes. I’ll drop a couple lines, trying to fit what’s important into a couple lines, taken by surprise as you rush in early, full of purpose. When you get busy gaming, I’ll stay quiet. If I want to talk, I’ll signal before I speak and wait for you to mute your phone.
Don’t tell me what pains you today. That gets really old. You know what? Go ahead and mention your daily complaints. I won’t let it soak in, glide right over with whatever’s on my mind. Yeah, I know you don’t feel good. Ever. Nothing I can do about it. Nada. It’s not like it’s gonna change.
When pain takes my breath away, I’ll hold it until the sharp pain passes because it usually does. I won’t even mention it. If it becomes repetitive or impairs function, I might not be able to keep it inside. I won’t bore you unless it’s absolutely necessary because I don’t want to add to the burden you always have taking care of me, but talking about it is definitely a coping mechanism. I wish it didn’t bother you so much.
I’m not a bad person. What do you want from me? I’m doing my best to keep things going at work and shopping and cooking and cleaning. Picking up a prescription for you every other day, when are you getting on that program where all your meds refill at the same time, anyway?
"Hey, honey." "Hello. How was your day?" "Good. I got the project done ahead of deadline so I decided to get the fuck outta there." "Nice." "I took out some fish for tacos. Are you super hungry or okay until later?" "Later is fine. You can do your thing for a while." "Cool. There's a new map on my game."