Wednesday, November 09, 2011

Nothing that felt like something (for a little while)

The Coach woke up with a headache on Sunday morning. A headache that lasted the whole day.

I woke up with a headache on Sunday morning. A headache that lasted the whole day.

And that’s how we got on the topic of my epic concussion.

The concussion that I finally told you all about last month. Which I thought I hadn’t told you about because I just forgot but, after Sunday, I realized that the reason that it took me so long to blog about it was because I’m sort of weird about the whole incident.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m sort of weird in general.

The story spilled out of my mouth before I had a chance to think it through. All of a sudden, I’m telling him about the days of school that I missed and what it was like to feel endlessly hung over before I even knew what a hangover felt like. As I’m telling The Coach the story, my brain started screaming at me “WHY DOES HE NEED TO KNOW THIS?!”

And the conversation was no big deal. He was the appropriate amount of concerned and interested and engaged in what I was telling him. It was no different than most conversations that we have – be it me bitching about work or him recounting the details of his team’s last game or me gushing on and on and on about how wonderful it will be when he’s home for Christmas. (Which, by the way, is a mere month away.)

It was no different until the minute that we ended the conversation and my screaming brain continued to scream.

About how vulnerable I had just made myself.

About how The Coach would now think of me as nothing more than The Sick Kid.

About what a huge mistake it was to reveal that piece of my past to him, to illustrate so clearly how imperfect I am.

I felt weird about it for the rest of the night. I felt weird about it all day on Monday. I felt weird about it until I talked to him that night. And it was just like it always is. Except maybe a little more awesome because it was exactly like it always is. And therefore exactly how it should be.

Like one silly accident – a silly accident that happened more than 10 years ago – could possibly matter. And matter to a guy, at that.

Oh, the things that go on in my head.


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