I don’t know how I’m going to survive the next couple months. My boyfriend had his surgery last week and his arm will be in a sling for up to 5 more weeks. He needs help with just about everything right now which I have no problem with and am happy to do.
My body is failing me and my house if falling apart. My ability to cope with my anger about it isn’t working and I keep exploding over stupid things.
I needed to vacuum our living room earlier where he has been staying mostly (I want it to be clean and fresh feeling for him) and ended up having an episode because I was trying to plug in the cord and something was in the way. I couldn’t move it with my foot and I lost my shit. That thing is in pieces now in the trash and I think the neighbors (our renters) probably heard whatever flew out of my mouth because they are working on a car in their driveway. Prob not the first time to be honest.
As it was happening, I felt like I was hovering over myself watching. I was thinking, “Why? Why are you doing this? Why can’t you control yourself and stop?” I look over and see my boyfriend’s terrified expression on his face and I feel so ashamed and broken. He understands what is happening and he isn’t scared for himself, he is scared for me and what I could potentially do to myself (and in this case, the house) when I’m out of control.
So much is happening while this is going on. I’m having a hot flash and that right there on its own is very hard to cope with. All my senses are magnified by 10x and voices are screaming at me that I’m a piece of shit and I should just kill myself. And me watching all this feeling ashamed and frustrated.
It literally feels like a hurricane inside of my body getting bigger and stronger until I can’t contain it anymore, only I don’t recognize this and it just burst out uncontrolled and violently tosses everything into the air and slams it back to the ground into pieces.
Then, it just stops and I’m left standing there shaking and wondering why this lovely man wants me.
I love being able to help him and it makes me smile when he is all cozy in his recliner feeling good. It gives me purpose, but why do I have to also be a monster?
I haven’t learned how to fully control this yet and rage outbursts are not something I can just turn off right away. They just happen without warning; I don’t have a chance to choose how I react a lot of the times. I do catch it more now though and hopefully once I start seeing my talk therapist this will get better. For now, though, I hate this so much.
The physical demand on my body has been way extreme and today I’m really hurting. I don’t have a choice. He can’t even use the restroom by himself, how could I not help him? I try really hard to have a smile on my face, but he can see my pain and that worries me because what if he really needs something but won’t ask because he wants me to rest or feels bad about asking for help. I would feel horrible if I knew he was going without something or suffering just to protect me.
Then, there are the pain pills sitting on his TV stand next to his chair. I see myself letting an extra 1 or 2 fall out of the bottle for myself when I’m getting his dose ready for him. I hear my addict mind trying to justify it. It’s so hard to sit here in so much pain knowing that those pills are right there and will help relieve my physical pain. I’ve had so many opportunities to sneak them, but I haven’t. He needs them and I know that I won’t be able to stop at just 1 or 2. There is only one way this will go and that’s off a cliff. Max doses of Tylenol and Ibuprofen together a couple times a day is all I can do.
I’m starting to ramble on now, I’m sorry. I just wanted to rant/complain and get all that off my chest. I have asked my son for help and he is trying to find time to come help do some of the heavier house work like cleaning windows etc., but he only gets Sundays off.
I’d give anything to have a bathtub to soak in right now…