I was all set to write an uplifting post this morning about how well the week went, and by all accounts, as far as visiting the various drs, it did go well. And I will write about that later (maybe this afternoon? Who knows). But for right now, I’m just frustrated.
W and I had initially agreed that it would be a good idea for him to go out for a few hours on the days the kids are in daycare, so I can have some uninterrupted time to myself to work and just BE BY MYSELF. I’m an introvert and need alone time to recharge. Also, when he’s home, he isn’t as bad as he use to be, but I still wonder how often he is looking at my computer screen and making mental notes of what I’m doing. I don’t feel comfortable blogging or doing art when he’s around, becasue he either needs to comment on it or ask me what it was all about later on. (right now I have another window at the ready to cover this screen in case he wanders in). And then there’s the random moments when he’ll come over and start sharing his thoughts about whatever various stage he’s at in processing his diagnosis, or just random observations he wants to share. It makes me pretty stressed, especially when I already feel pressured because I never seem to be caught up with my work and I have T-x hours until the kids will be home and that chaos resumes. And it feels like such a delicate balance with him, because if I get annoyed and show it, he either acts like a whipped puppy or a brooding bear.
Monday he did go out to read for a few hours, but when he returned home, he complained about how much it bothered him that people talked at Place A, and then the same at Place B. And I suppose he finds it too hot outside to just go to a quiet spot in a park or something, or his paranoia won’t allow him to relax while outdoors? I don’t know.
Today he had planned to mow the yard at our church. It’s a few acres, and would have had him out for a few hours this morning. He left to bring the kids to daycare, and I settled in for a morning to myself. He returned about 40 minutes later, informing me he had flooded the mower and couldn’t get it to start. I held back a comment, asked if he would be painting, then went to clear out C’s room. I had planned on doing that after I caught up with some work, but no, once again I need to rearrange my schedule. As I’m trying to shove everything in her closet, annoyed that I now have no time to sort and will have to do it later, I start shelving the childrens books. We have a lot becasue I’ve always loved books and pictures and all that. And I start to get really angry.
Many of the books I remember reading to WJ when he was a baby. He’s so smart now, and advanced with his reading. Then C came along, and 6 months later W had his first breakdown and hospitalization. And life has been just crazy since then. And poor C, I feel like she lost out, and it’s not fair. The energy I had for WJ when he was a baby, is mostly directed to W now. C didn’t get read to as much, didn’t go on as many outings, just didn’t get as much as I gave WJ. And some of that is just being the second child, but a big part was (is), I just didn’t have enough energy to go around, but I tried so very hard. And she doesn’t talk nearly as much as WJ did at her current age, and can’t even count to 10 yet, and I feel it’s my fault, and it’s. not. fair.
So I hold back my tears as best I can, finish up, and tell him the rooms ready. And he paints, either oblivious to my anger or, more likely, realizes my anger and internalizes it and becomes more paranoid about me, us, whatever. And I feel like once again I’ve failed to keep things even-keel, but still not sure what to do with all this pain I feel. Can’t really sit and talk with him about it. So you all get to read it. Sorry. 😦 Positive things DID happen this week, and I will try to write them later. For now I’ll go and try to catch up on my work, breathe deep, and pray for peace.