30th March 2013
I wake, unsure why I'm here again, unsure how long these feelings will last. Unsure as to why they have roused their ugly heart-palpitating, wanting to run, shouting at me 'you're trapped, you're trapped, this is it now...' Voices. But the feelings are here again with a vengeance.
It rumbles in the pits of my stomach and from my chest up I'm taught and feel panicky and sick, and I know I have to get up, try and be a good mum, a good wife, I have to look after you, the kids, feed you all, wash, clean, Hoover, advise, amuse, reward, all day and there is no where to hide I just have to get up and do it.
As if these feelings aren't bad enough I find I lack patience, I have to bite my tongue when you are, at the moment, seemingly so incapable of following any instruction. You call for me all the time, and when I try and understand you I cannot, it's not speech it's noise and you hit out and hurt me, frustrated you are quick to anger with both me and the kids.
And I'm trying to get you home and I feel like, how? How can I? I'm weak and flawed and craving my husband by my side to help me through this, and I'm never going to get that back. So the bitter loneliness sets in too.
And the guilt...
I'm showing the kids how not to deal with a situation, when the carer and I both struggle to change you and you can't do what we need you to do I shouted at you to stop making so much noise and to try, just try and help a little... And then I collapse in floods of tears with kids asking 'what's up mum?' The carer telling me it's ok they understand, with you so in need of me and a me that can cope and deal with it all and be everyone's everything all the time.
And in all this I just need you. The you you were, the you you were to me, that you who cuddled me tight so often, made everything alright with one of your cuddles, big arms, strong chest scooping me into you kissing my head, with your smell, familiar and steadfast.
But I'm never getting that again. This is me. This is you. This is my life. Forever.
I'm sorry, really and truly I am for having these feelings, for being like this. I wish I could just talk to you about it and explain, but I don't have you like that anymore, not to share things with or wait on your advice and counsel.
I just have to go it alone.
I'm so so sorry that I feel like this,