Seemingly, 2016 has been a universally horrible year. I’ve been trying to see if I can salvage any good memories from the last 365 days, and it’s proving a struggle. All I could really come up with was ‘The Olympics’ – I enjoyed that. Oh, and Andy Murray won Wimbledon again. So I guess there were a few sporting achievements – some personal ones too. I published a book in 2016, I suppose. But that’s no biggie because I published one in 2015 as well. And unless I get hit by a bolt of lightening, I’ll be publishing one in 2017 too. I’m nearly finished, but it’s taken me much longer than I’d hoped because I found time-management difficult. And I don’t much feel like patting myself on the back for that. So what I thought I’d do instead of looking back at my year, is celebrate the one constant of 2016. The one constant of every year, really, but doesn’t get enough credit.
I don’t talk about my husband a great deal in this blog, unless it’s to take the piss about one of his weird idiosyncrasies. I think of this blog as an introvert’s way of being an extrovert. It’s my decision to discuss the things I do, so I mainly leave my husband out of it. He can start his own blog if he feels like airing his deepest, darkest thoughts hidden in the murky recesses of his mind. It’s a bit like the way a celeb wouldn’t discuss their family in interviews because they didn’t choose a life of celebrity. Except that I’m not a celeb and Time Magazine isn’t interested in interviewing me. Which never ceases to amaze me. But this post is about redressing that imbalance. Because my husband is, whether he likes it or not, an extension of me.
I more than alluded to this in a recent post, but this year hasn’t been a great one for me. And not just because tonnes of celebrities who shaped my childhood have sadly passed away. It’s been a difficult year on a personal level too. Oddly enough, the last person I wanted to tell that I was struggling this year was my husband. I don’t know why. An admission of weakness, maybe? But it got to the point where I felt I had to confess. And I’m so glad I did. He had noticed, of course. I’d been particularly short-tempered and had withdrawn myself deeper into the Internet world (who, moi?). So it was a relief to discuss the reasons behind it. And an even bigger relief to find him so understanding. I don’t know why I thought he wouldn’t be. I think the trouble with us medical professionals is, we are happy to sort out other people’s problems, but we don’t like to allow ourselves to have any of our own. Anyway, my husband has been great, and a problem shared kind of is a problem halved.
So, to my other half: I know I’m not the easiest person to live with. I’m a bit of a cold fish, sometimes. I believe public displays of affection have their time and place. But neither of us are particularly touchy-feely, so that’s cool, right? But never forget that I do love you. You were the first and last person I was capable of loving in that way. And remember – COLD FISH – so that’s quite an achievement for you. Well done. We’ve had some great times, and we’ve had some hard times. But we always seem to weather the storm. I’m sorry if I’ve been a bit distant; my head constantly buried in a laptop or a smartphone. It’s my escape, you see. I’m sorry I didn’t come to you sooner when I was finding things tough; I ought to have known you’d understand. If I don’t tell you I love you enough, it doesn’t mean I don’t. I’m just…difficult. But you’ve had eighteen years to get used to that.
Anyway, as shockingly crappy as 2016 has been, it has made me realise how much I appreciate him. He may collect one too many pieces of vinyl, spends every Sunday flinging a circular piece of plastic around a field (Frisbee-golf, don’t get me started), and his robot collection is becoming a bit of a cause for concern, but we all have our foibles, right? Not everyone could put up with him. Not everyone could put up with me. Most people wouldn’t. He may be a bit of a weirdo, but he’s my weirdo. And I thank him for being my constant in 2016. Just like he has been every other year, he’s my rock. Not a boring rock – more like a geode, all sparkly and stuff.
PS: Happy New Year, friends! Thanks for always being there. May 2017 be better than 2016. It can’t possibly be worse…