The secret Language of marriage

This October, Max and I will have been married 30years. we have been together 36 having dated 4years and being engaged 2 before we finally got hitched! there are several distinct traits of being together over 3 decades, as any long term couple will tell you. I think that one of the most interesting in our lives together is our common language. I don't mean that we both are English speaking in public and then speak french when alone.  the language that I am talking about can best bee described as I speak fluent max and he speaks fluent Linda. It is for this reason that we are not allowed to be on the same trivial pursuit team because we will invariably "smoke" the competition. (it is also because we seem to know a ridiculous amount of trivial information; but that is for another blog) this language phenomenon was brilliantly portrayed in the movie Four Christmases. The yuppie childless couple brought the game "Taboo" to the family Christmas to break up the tension of the divorced families. They were quite confident that they could communicate with each other much more effectively than the husbands "redneck" brother and sister in law. this dynamic was particularly familiar to me. each year we lived through 4 christmas', and I suppose since we all wore jean overalls one year, we could be considered the rednecks. I have even had a relative who was now divorced that she would not want a marriage like ours--even though we have happily been together over 30 years, have 2 children who have completed higher education, never had a pregnancy arrest or drug scare-- because it seemed that we did not talk pleasantly enough to each other. but I digress.
In the movie the yuppie couple of Reece Witherspoon and Vince Vaugan perform abysmally in the game, barely getting a point. The brother and sister in law rocked it! One word or a weird analogy would get the answer in seconds flat. they absolutely decimated the competition. Poor Vince looked like someone had killed his puppy. But I could have warned him; they had their own language: words, stories and phrases brought about from common struggles, triumphs and experiences. It is so powerful that sometimes you don't even have to talk; frequently, you don't have to finish a sentence and sometimes you are even thinking the same thing at the same time.
I think, in our case, sharing the experience of raising a child as special as Connor, amplifies this understanding of each other. there are times when dealing with the intricacies of our lives that there was, quite simply, no time for words. There were other times when, if we had spoken out loud, at the least we would have been questioned and at the greatest we would have been mocked or judged.
Still all in all I count it as one of my blessings of being together so long. Now I can translate for others that when Max says "chubby British singer" he means Phil Collins, or when I say the froggy song from Bugs, he can explain that I mean "Hello, My Baby" or that best of all we can both giggle the cares away simply by saying "Its no big deal".  to others, we may sound like characters from the movie or a star trek episode but to each other, it is our language of love, patience,  understanding and knowing that has taken 36 years to perfect. Just a word of warning though, don't ever play Taboo with us either! unless you want to be smoked as well.

Fibromylagia--the hits just keep on coming!!!

For almost 3 months, until now, I have not been myself. sore all over, every fibre hurting, tired, grumpy and unhappy; essentially, unbearable to be around, even more than usual!
after trying all health and natural remedies that I could, I sought out medical treatment. Within 5  minutes, my MD diagnosed me with fibromylagia--an over diagnosed, much maligned and misunderstood disorder. Since I was content that  I wasn't severely depressed or worse having a mental breakdown, or turning into my mother. I was elated to accept any and all diagnosis' and treatments. after all, I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. My family's reaction was as expected: Max was relieved that it wasn't his fault and there was a treatment (although, per usual, his anti-depressant scepticism kicked in) and Jarrett and Connor had identical responses, "there is no such thing as Fibromylagia; it is a made up disease." I was not surprise by their statements, as I had said as much verbalised the very thoughts years before!
So to the sceptics, I refute: live and learn and don't knock it unless you have been there. If it is a "fake" disorder, then whatever was eating my body and soul up from the inside out, is healed  by the same treatments. Within days, I was feeling better and now 5 weeks later, I am back to my normal, which as anyone who truly knows me is a pale imitation of anyone else's "normal"! But I am virtually pain free or as out of shape 53year old woman with osteoarthritis and various other ailments can be.
many people claim to have a high pain tolerance; indeed, it  is a source of frequent, ironic amusement in my workplace when a woman who has never had a menstrual cramp thinks she can handle natural labour because she has a "high pain tolerance" only to cave at 2cm dilation because she cannot believe how much it hurts.
But pain has been a large part of my life for most of my time on this earth: both emotional and physical. Several joint dislocations, fractures, ligament tears, major surgeries, deaths and divorces did not hold me back or rob me of my will to do the things I truly love; this did. This insidious, creeping physical and emotional pain stole all my desire for anything i derived pleasure from: music, camping, writing, even time with family and friends all fell by the wayside as I struggled to find a way to dissolve the constant driving ache that had become my body. (although Candy Crush saga and I have become best buds!)
But now, I am grateful rather than sore. I am grateful that I did not still have any narcotic prescriptions at hand because I am certain that I would be an addict by now. I am grateful that my physician has vast experience in diagnosing and treating chronic pain disorders, so instead of immediately defaulting to a mood changing, mind numbing opiate, he prescribed the proper chemical balance that my body was lacking and apparently craving for.  I am grateful for my delightful sons who always keep me real--even if they think its imaginary illness--are willing to support any journey I choose to partake in. I am grateful for my long suffering and ever forbearing best friend and husband, who even when I am at my very worst, tells me "You are doing great; way better than any one else in your situation." and says it with such conviction that I actually believe him. But most of all, I am grateful to finally feel myself again; and though many have probably never even noticed she was gone these last few months, watch out world because the bitch is back! ;)
http://www.arthritis.ca/page.aspx?pid=928