Without a lot of fanfare, Cameron and I celebrated our sixteenth anniversary at bowling Sunday, sharing three magnums of champagne and a toast with the league.
Since then, he's left the building. He moved into an extended stay hotel Thursday after checking into a hotel in the middle of the night Wednesday.
Since his diagnosis of Diabetes in January he's been on a few prescriptions, including what he calls a daily "happy pill" and another mood altering drug "for when he's really stressed." I think the drugs are affecting him in an adverse way. He's hyper all the time, he's lost 55 pounds and just doesn't stop. He's making me crazy because I can't get a moment's peace. He complains that I am spread too thin or that I take on too much, yet he is out talking to some small business owners about how I can help them with their advertising. He tells me to go to bed and get some rest, yet he stays up all night long waking me up every 45 minutes doing whatever he's doing.
He's gone on several junkets to Washington, D.C. and Detroit for business with AFA (his union) and NWA (his employer). Although he doesn't usually address the general public except from a microphone behind a wall during announcements on a plane, and he doesn't consider himself a public speaker, he's been standing in front of rooms filled with more than 200 people talking about the union, the company and the future of their jobs. This has been empowering to him. He told me he feels like a rock star. And I love that. But....
I feel like the Cameron I have loved for sixteen years is slipping away from me. The jury is still out. I want him to be successful. I want him to feel empowered. I want the best for him. But what he's doing scares the shit out of me -- for him, me, our relationship -- and our future.