Matt and I had a big fight today. Full of F-bombs. It's eight hours later now, and I can't even begin to tell you what it was about. Except that it was about love and two different perspectives.
Let me give you a little bit of background information.
I am diabetic. Type I. Shhh... It's my secret. I don't usually tell people. I'm sure there are a few people reading this that have know me for quite some time, and don't know this about me. I tell very few people that I work with, and the majority of my friends tend to forget. Which is fine with me.
Diabetes is one of those diseases that people, who have no idea what they are talking about, love to talk about. Every story begins with a lecture on what you should or should not be eating (with no real understanding of carbohydrates,) and morphs into some horror story about Uncle Joe and how he went blind or lost a foot.
Every story also comes from a Type II perspective, where someone has eaten themselves into the disease. I have very little patience for these stories. While, yes, I could definitely stand to loose more than a couple of pounds, I did not do this to myself. I was 8 years old when diagnosed. It is genetic/autoimmune and there is no prevention. I have been dealing with this for over 20 years now. I am fine. My Ac1's are the same as a non-diabetic. I know what I am doing.
Matt and I met in college and moved in together shortly after we started dating. In the time between those two events, I had a roommate who could have cared less about me. It was mutual. So one day, Matt kept calling and calling, but I wasn't answering. When he came over, he found my roommate sitting on the couch watching TV. She hadn't seen me all day. Matt went into my room to find me near coma my blood sugar was so low. With coaching from my mom via the phone, he fed me little bits of honey on a spoon for about an hour until I was coherent again. If he hadn't come over and found me I would have died.
From that moment on I vowed to never let anything like that happen again. Don't get me wrong, I've been low since then. But nothing that would ever hold a candle to that day. It was that day though that I knew I had found the man I would marry.
So today I was exhausted, and laid down at 10 am to take a quick nap.
At 2pm I woke to Grace crying in her crib. I was groggy from the 4 hour nap and upset that I had slept through so much of the day. I had 4 or 5 chores that now weren't going to be accomplished and thought that Grace hadn't been fed since I did it at 8am.
Matt on the other hand, was upset because he's now realizing that it is 2pm and I hadn't eaten all day. He is viewing my grogginess as low blood sugar.
So that was the fight. I totally don't remember in the slightest what was said, just the hindsight knowledge of the love involved in the harsh words.
My love for my daughter (who was indeed fed before Matt put to down for a nap at 11:30,) and my expressions of love for Matt in the wifely completion of chores. In contrast to Matt's love for me and my health, with the fear of that day almost 10 years ago always floating in the back of his head.
Now looking back on what I've written, I guess Matt was right. My worries about gocery shopping and home repair don't even come close to his concerns.