clickmom

reason

My stomach is messed up. Ive been cleansing for about a week. It's still messed up. I'm legit worried. Will try to get to the good 'ol stepford chiropractor for a diagnosis- then to back it up with an MD. He's so good at diagnosing. I hope I didn't burn a hole in it the day I took 4 Aleve because I had no other choice that day. Either I got rid of the pain I was in or I got rid of myself, which is something a mother of 3 really cannot consider.  I am worried about growing old with this back of mine. It's not likely to get easier. Every muscle in my torso was seizing up so bad I could feel the hardness of my seizing pieces happening through my skin.

Its been three weeks now and I am still in too much pain with my tendon tear. Went to see a physical therapist tuesday for an evaluation and he made me point and flex and twist to each side.  Then he made me repeat each movement again while he resisted with his hand to see if I was weak. Now the area where the tear is is on fire. Its been almost constant burning pain for 2 solid days now. It's the thing I am feeling as I drift off to sleep and the feeling that wakes me up in the morning. Insert four letter word exclamation!!

I can't believe September is almost over. Time is flying by. I know that happens when you're old but I also think it's happening because I am existing in this numb state where I just pace myself going hour by hour or meal by meal. I remember when I went to visit my mother with baby Matt and she would start worrying about lunch as soon as we cleared the breakfast dishes and worrying about dinner as soon as we finished lunch. I thought her life was so shallow. But now that is how I am living. (With less worry about the actual food though...) Eat meal is a marker I need to get through so I can make it to the next one and then bed. Wake up, see if today is the day the ax falls on the husband and if he is still with us I start again. Eat, eat, eat, bed. Check to see if he's breathing. Eat, eat eat, bed. Check again.

All I really want is a job. And the good feeling of having some salary. And a work family, no matter how dysfunctional. But really, a concrete undeniable reason why I have to get up and out of bed every day.

spirit

So. Josh has been gone for 11 days. Evan left yesterday. 

So.  The empty nest thing.  

Sucks.

I just feel so lost without being able to wonder what my kids are doing upstairs as they hole away in their own rooms and ignore me, except they are in my house so my mother heart can rest 80% easy. Because let's be honest. I don't trust them to make good decisions.  Maybe when they're 30.

Or maybe when Matt comes to his senses and asks for my forgiveness for being an asshole. Yup. I said it. Matt, of late, has been my actual obsessive worrier nightmare come true child.  When I was pregnant with Matt I prayed and prayed that he'd be a boy because my nightmare was having the same relationship with my own daughter that my mom had with me. I thought that boys were much easier on their mothers and I could avoid giving life to someone who might feel that way about me by having only boys and by "feel that way" I mean... 

I did not respect my mother.

And I thought that was the worst possible way a daughter could feel about her mother and now fast forward 26+ years and Matt, who has told me he's trans, but has not had the respect for me to have an actual discussion about what exactly that means, has not spoken to me for 2 months. So, maybe having a daughter is the worst thing that could ever happen to me. I don't know. This might kill me. Maybe now I have a daughter and she does not respect me, so I was right. 

I cry every day.

And let's be honest. My life is fracking hellish right now. The husband is living this non-life of sleeping in bed all of the time, weird hours, and sitting in front of the television sleeping and eating when he's not in bed while I try to orbit around him close enough to be there when he needs me but far enough away so that I don't get sucked into his tragic existence. But, this life is not good enough. It's not even close to good enough at all. 

I mean, maybe if the husband and I had been passionately in love up until the moment he became a non-living living person I would feel different, but let's be honest. I married someone who feels about everyone the way I felt about my mother and being married to someone who doesn't respect you wears thin after a while and now I have to orbit around someone who not only never respected me but is incapable of ever respecting me. Not that I ever expected him to change, it's just that I guess I thought I'd be able to live independently of his lack of respect and I can tell you with 100% certainty that I never for one second imagined ending up being his caretaker.

Lately all these people keep telling me how caregivers end up sick themselves from all of the stress and I don't know who to tell them that silence from Matt is 100 times worse than watching the husband disintegrate.

But the two things together, along with grieving (because I am GRIEVING over here) the whole empty nest thing is quite unbearable.  I want to type it's too much to handle, but you know I am going to handle it. What choice do I have? I just better not end up with some crazy disease just when I am free to reclaim my own life.

I just cry a lot. 

I've been sad-stress-eating so much this summer that my double chin is a triple chin and my breasts (when holstered) are so damned high on my body due to extra chest padding that they almost connect with my third chin. I am a living weeble. I need to calm (the f*ck) down, eat healthy food and figure out how to live in this new configuration with no kids in my house while watching the husband lose. 

He is losing everything it means to be a person. Losing his will to live. Losing the ability to feel joy. Even losing the ability to feel sorrow. What ever spirit the man (who had no respect) used to have has faded away. 

I can't let my spirit go down with his. I can't let my spirit go down with all of this.