...Bee-ing One of You

During the past several days since S's brother passed away, I really haven't had much time to dream. Sleep was relegated to quick naps on the couch, or the hesitations between a cuddle. Last night was the first real sleep I had achieved, and the nature of it is very telling of my emotional state.

S and I are at a family gathering at his grandparents' home. Italians ooze out of the walls practically, talking animatedly in a unique Italian-English-American Sign Language hybrid that I can assume only exists in towns like Gloucester, where families are huge and forever together.

Kids were playing outside, and I see a small animal struggling with something. It appeared ferret-like and I gingerly approached to help. The poor creature was being maimed by a swarm of bees, and in my haste to rescue the fuzzy one, I stepped on the nest and released another hoard upon us. I wrapped the tiny ferret up in my shirt and ran towards the front yard, to get into S's car. The ferret seeed shaken up and stung but generally okay, so I cradled her in a few shirts lying around, and headed inside to tell S. By the time I found him, I could feel my lips and eyes and throat swelling up, and my arms and legs get stiff, and my heart racing. "I'm going into anaphylactic shock!!" I keep yelling, but no one is paying any attention. I keep asking for an Epi-Pen, but S's family is too involved in conversation to hear me. Eventually, I struggle my way back out to S's car and get inside and curl up with the little ferret, and assume I am going to die. S comes into the car and stabs me hard with an Epi-Pen, and I swear I can feel the hystamines breaking down in my blood and my heart slowing back down. The swelling retreats, and S looks at me and says, "Not everything is about you, you know."

I struggle with my selfish nature, but now moreso than ever. I see such opposite nature in S in that way, and I know I am not good enough for him. I need to be good enough for him, I need to know how.. How to be a Frontiero.