Okay, I swear that I am able to write posts other than Sophie Sundays…though Sophie wonders why I would care to. I've been dealing with some discomfort (same old story, different day), and I went back to the pain clinic because it was a different sort of pain than normal. Good news is that there is nothing extremely wrong with me. My tumor has not changed much and isn't causing problems…but arthritis has settled in my L4-L5 facet joints and my SI joints.

There isn't much that can be done for it that isn't already being done (since I am already being treated for back problems)…but it is a wake up call to stop being stubborn. Hey Laura: when it hurts, don't do it. It's certainly a hit to my ego that "can't" has entered my vocabulary—but Sophie is ecstatic. She's been getting much more lap time with me lately.

I was out of bed way too early for a Saturday. Nick wanted to work a little overtime, going in early so the whole day would not be lost. I came downstairs to spend some time with him before he left, but I started drifting back towards sleep as soon as I curled up on the couch.

Sophie was having none of it. She crawled over me and began to purr…aggressively. There is a code in this house. Sophie leaves us alone while we sleep during the night, but it's "all Sophie, all the time" as soon as we stir. We put off moving and talking as long as possible when we wake each morning…because she'll be on us as soon as we do either.

Since I had most certainly stirred by the time she found me on the couch, I was in serious violation of the code.

I experienced a moment of absolute loveliness this morning. It was quiet and warm with the sun shining through the windows. I heard the trickle of a water fountain and the robin's cheerful song. Everything seemed right in that one moment, and the smile that spread across my face made me feel younger…fresher. It was as though my fairy tale just wrapped up in happily every after. It lasted the span of a single heartbeat, nothing more…but in that single heartbeat, life felt pretty wonderful.

One of my project managers walked by my desk at the end of a very long week. Seeing me bleary-eyed and hunched over my laptop, she pulled up a chair to offer an ear. The long and short of it was that I was tired of arguing.

I represent an area of my company and dispute decisions (when necessary), but I am not quarrelsome by nature. Yet I know that I have a responsibility to speak up: I force myself out of Switzerland when I would rather stay neutral…agreeable. Believe me, no one was more surprised than me to learn that I am actually pretty good at fighting—it helps that I know to choose my words carefully, of course.

The challenges have been more frequent in the last several weeks, and the weight of conflict was beginning to ache. I was happy to be leaving for the weekend shortly as the fatigue was overriding logic, and I felt like bickering purely for the sake of bickering. I no longer fear disagreements…occupational hazard I suppose.

I should have been smart and stayed in that night since I had a weak grip on patience. Instead, Nick and I organized a dinner out with family—family with whom I am trying to strengthen my relationship…or maybe I'm trying to build it for the first time…I just know that it could be better, whatever that means.

When we arrived, his tongue was already loosened with the help of a few amber bottles. The entire dinner was a verbal assault on us. I saw Nick staring at me from the corner of my vision because he couldn't stand to look anywhere else without saying something. I kept my eyes fixed on the wall across the room.

I was afraid. I was afraid that my instinct to retaliate, to stand up for myself, would damage the relationship irreparably. Instead, I said nothing and let him talk. He wasn't angry in the slightest, he thought he was just having normal conversation…this somehow gave his words even more bite. I could not get out of there fast enough because I hurt…and hurt people say things they don't mean (particularly if words come easily).

So here I am, stuck. I have discovered that I can win arguments, and smoothly…but I cannot use that weapon because I believe we are mismatched: I am not a bully. Part of me wants to start the conversation, telling him that hurtful words are not okay, but another part of me knows that he will think I am attacking him.

So again, I do nothing. I try my hardest to forget everything that was said to (at) us, but it will take time to get rid of the sting. My cousin came over later that night when my pain came through my text messages (and knowing that this isn't the first time I've been wounded). "Why!?" I cried to her. "Why do I put myself through this over and over again?"

She took another bite out of her ice cream (what else would the doctor order for emotional distress??) and let compassion blanket her eyes. "It's because you still have hope."

My skin has grown so thick with my work responsibilities…yet, with family, my vulnerability is staggering.