Game of Thrones and Beds of Nails

I started watching Game of Thrones. Basically I can’t not be in on the jokes, memes, and associated conversation when a thing is popular. I did not expect to like it. The descent went something like this:

Season one episode one: this is complicated but intriguing. I doubt I’ll hang in for the whole season but I suppose I should at least hang in there to find out what happened to Peter Pan over here.

Season one episode two: took me four nights not to fall asleep by the end of the credits. By the fifth night I was planning to cancel my 30 day HBO trial because clearly I wasn’t hooked. Finally finished it and then stayed up until 2 a.m. because Khaleesi and her horrible brother made me. Bullies. Fictional bullies, I say.

Season one episodes three through seven: inhaled in one night.

Season one episode eight: I am a mother of dragons, so I ordered a shirt indicating this on amazon. I hope Joffrey burns in the seventh circle of Hell, and I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to marry Snow. So.

I guess I’m on the hook for the 15 bucks a month the HBO is going to run me.

Sleeping in a bed. What can I say? I laid on the sofa I’ve been sleeping on for one night just to watch a show I’d recorded as the cable won’t be available upstairs until Friday. I honestly do not know how I slept there for four years. I knew my marriage was dead, I just didn’t realize how much of me it had killed with it. I was completely leveled. I was so low up until last week that I was happy with emotional starvation.

I was comfortable on a couch that feels to me now like a bed of nails. I can’t find the words to express how much worse being in this bedroom felt than to describe the couch and how long I slept there and then trust you provide your own metaphors.

But it finally feels like mine again. It is such a warm, comfortable, pretty room. But it had become a dark, empty, unfamiliar cave for so long. It’s a slow, insidious thing when a relationship turns sour and then starts to rot the way my marriage did. It’s worse when there doesn’t seem to be anything you can do to revive it. When the problem becomes a full on character in your life but you can’t name it or interact with it because it’s being kept behind the curtain at all times.

I was so invested.

I was so determined to go down with the ship. Now I can’t imagine why. Why? When this room has been waiting for me to get the strength enough to reclaim it?

Sleeping in a bed is such a human thing to do. Not doing it for four years kept me feeling less than human. Tucking in with the girls for a pre-bedtime show is my favorite part of the day. When they sneak out if their rooms and snuggle up to me in the mornings is a close second.

I feel like something has been resurrected. In my house and in me. How strange it is, to so easily minimize the importance of the truly meaningful things in life and focus relentlessly on what doesn’t matter in the least.

Also, 33 hours cigarette free and heading into day 21 of Chantix.

Represent.

One thought on “Game of Thrones and Beds of Nails

  1. I always find it amazing how we learn to live with terrible things, completely unaware of how much it affects us until later. That your world feels resurrected now is a very good thing.

    I’m laughing at you giving in to Game of Thrones, I did the same, and for the same reasons, but I succumbed to the lure of the books. Once I started I almost abandoned my parental responsibilities in order to devour the first four (I think) in record time before I ran out of steam and returned to reality. I loved the plotting, political machinations and utter unpredictibility, you never knew when the next blow would come, which character would be the next to fall. Brilliant stuff.

    Liked by 1 person

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