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Love Letter to my Partner, from your ‘Patient’

My love, I am ill.

Unfortunately, despite the illness being mine to own, it means that living with me, and loving me, will sometimes be hard for you. For a myriad of reasons. I’m sorry about that, and I’m sorry that this ‘thing’ has made itself an uninvited partner in our relationship.

Illness is unfeeling and unpredictable. My illness is a daily challenge, and one I often struggle to cope with. I know you do too. You don’t tell me so because you are kind and compassionate and don’t want to leave me with any feelings of guilt; but I know. And whether you want me to or not, I do feel guilty. Becoming a ‘patient’ wasn’t part of the plan and certainly not something I’m sure you looked for in a partner.

Because of my illness I sometimes become withdrawn and distance myself from you. I’m not always aware of that, and I’ll continue to try not to. But I will. And I hope that you will always try to wade through my emotional quicksand and reach in to pull me back out before I get too deep.

I hope you will remember who I was before this, and who I still am; somewhat altered, and incredibly exhausted by an onslaught of sadness, frustration and pain, but still the ‘me’ you loved before and enduringly so.

Sometimes I will complain. Sometimes I will take my pain out on you, and my love I don’t mean to. I may struggle to express myself and hit out at the person I love most in the world. And my love, I don’t mean to.

Sometimes I will get frustrated at what I perceive to be my failings; those things I could do with ease ‘before’, and now find increasingly challenging. I will cry, and wallow in self-pity, and I hope you will be patient while I sheepishly shake myself out of it.

I will do all of this because I love you, and because I love life. I want to be ‘alive’ and feel alive and I will continue to fight the slow and often excruciating battle towards all the good stuff life has to offer. Sometimes that even feels like it cancels out the bad, and that is Maths I can get on board with.  

My love, you are my good stuff. I will endeavour to always be yours, and not to let the intrusive 3rd partner in our relationship steal all our bed-covers. Or our joy.  

Kathleen NichollsComment