Saturday, June 15, 2013
It's a wasteland of waste products and treatment. It's a miasma of mess. It's a folklore wolf land with rotten teeth and constant growling. You know what's way harder than wiping someone's bottom, who doesn't understand simple commands like bend over, like washing all the bed linens...and I mean ALL the linens, duvet, cover, pillows and their covers, comforter, both sheets, and pads every single day? It's doing all those things when you yourself are sick or not feeling well. All the good intentions, the new techniques learned in therapy, most of the kind thoughts are lost in the despair that you will never have a moment to yourself to rest, to recover, to pamper yourself to wellness. Never, that is, until you do have that time, and he is no more, and you are then suffering but also overwhelmingly guilty about those feelings. You know what's even harder than that? When you have had a long day of doing all that, and you yell out to him as he is about to flush his socks down the toilet, and he turns to you with those lost brown eyes and says wistfully, "Do you really hate me that much?" I find myself supremely accident prone lately. A broken foot, a chipped tooth, a cut lip, scratches galore, and bruises everywhere. I am dropping things, breaking things, pinching my fingers and stubbing my toes. Everyone does some of these occasionally. I am a study in constancy of accidents. Is it fatigue? Desperation? Depression? Self loathing? I spoke to a new therapist who was direct and helpful. Somehow in a few sessions with her, I could internalize the truth that we are not good at everything, that "it takes a village" reflects that we need each other. She also short circuited my "yes, but's" related to getting help for his care and I actually have those plans started. A very kind woman has started coming on occasions when I need relief and beginning in September will be coming on a regular basis. I have decided that I can no longer save money for when I can no longer take care of him by myself physically. I am already at the place where I cannot take care of him alone, emotionally. I am going to loosen the purse strings with the hope of relieving the heart strings and finding my husband again. I leap forward to an unknown future where my carefully squirreled away pile of nuts may not last or be enough. But I am alive now and in need now, so I leap in faith.