Drama Queen

This is going to sound absolutely terrible. But sometimes, I just. Don't. Wanna. I don't wanna pick up that item he dropped on the floor, I don't wanna lay out the meds, I don't wanna put him into bed. As a husband and wife, there are definitely bound to be days that you just need your space, when the other will do something to tick you off and you just want to be as far away from them as possible in that moment. Well, that luxury is out the window when one is almost completely reliant on the other. Yes, we still fight because we are still two human beings cohabitating in one house, one life. And on those days that things just aren't clicking or there weren't enough hours of sleep had the night before, I just don't wanna.

The call for help sends a ripple of frustration up my spine and I mutter, "of course you do." The extra intimately close proximity necessary while I'm helping him transfer is the last place I want to be. In my head I say, "Go ahead and do it by yourself." Those days that I'm picking up after the kids, or rush off to many appointments, scrambling to prepare dinner for everyone who is absolutely staaarrrrving, chasing the kids into the shower and off to bed, doing the chores that had once been "his" chores - on those days that I'm just slaving away and he's sitting there on the PlayStation or his phone I just want to scream, "Do SOMETHING!"

I have many of these days. To the outside world I seem to be managing it all with not a stress in the world and a smile on my face. I am the YES girl. I never ask for help. But inside I am drowning, having an emotional breakdown and full of anxiety, anger and boy am I tired. 

We do talk. When it's gotten to the point that I can no longer hold all of it in and I am sulking or hiding or uninterested in any of the things going on around me. When I don't want to talk, he notices. He asks me what's going on. Sometimes I feel too guilty to lay it out on him. Other times, I just can't take it anymore and I tell him what's inside. It's not easy. I know deep down that he doesn't want to ask for help. I know that he's restless and bored and needs something to do as well. I know that it's not his fault that now all of his burden falls on me. But we talk. I explain that I'm overwhelmed, that I get frustrated being the only one working my tail off while he gets to sit around doing nothing. I tell him I would like to see him try harder to do things around the house. I tell him that it makes me not want to be around him. But it's a vicious cycle that repeats itself. At this point, he is still trying to figure out what he can and cannot do. He is still trying to make his way comfortably around the house. He deals with the sadness of being confined to the first story and hasn't seen or slept in his own bed in over a year. I can't imagine the struggles he is faced with every single day.

I carry much of the physical stress of caregiving and maintaining home life as well as the emotional stability of our entire family. I am the anchor keeping everyone from drifting off into the emotional abyss...keeping everyone in check. And in these occasional lapses in sympathy when it all becomes to big of a cross for me to bare, I just. Don't. Wanna.