Death of a Friendship 2

The previous post of Death of a Friendship was written in the early hours during another sleep disturbed night at home. Unfortunately insomnia gives one too much time to dwell on worries, concerns and hurt feelings. I have been mentally composing a letter to my 'friend' to explain why I no longer wish to keep in contact. I've just written it this morning. I'm not sure whether it will get as far as the post box as I'm still thinking of her feelings. She has sent me a text a couple of times since we parted. But I've not replied.

I'd been looking forward to meeting up with Kay again for a reunion of old colleagues. She had joked about no one turning up and our sitting there together feeling like 'Billy No Mates ...' I thought it a joke. If no one turned up then they either [a] had no interest in seeing either of us again or [b] had more pressing things to do during the weekend. If I was alone for the reunion I would have taken along a good book and settled down in a corner to wait to see who arrived.

I'd arranged our accommodation. I'd gone for the cheap option; B&B via the English Tourist Board as Kay had said she wanted to keep costs down. She wasn't at all keen to "spend £75 on a single room at a hotel as she had so many treats" planned for 2008. I could see on the website that one room looked much larger than the other but I didn't request that room ahead of our arrival - it didn't seem 'fair' to just bag it. On our being shown the rooms she immediately chose the larger of the 2. I did ask her if she had a preference. She turned towards me as if to ask which I preferred and then changed tack swiftly declaring to the owner "I'll take this one". I had expected to have some polite chat about our preferences and if necessary to make the decision with a toss of a coin. I was taken aback; very disappointed and speechless. After the journey up the M5 I was feeling tired, wrung out and travel weary. I get giddy and dizzy after a drive. My brain/mouth co-ordination slows down and I couldn't articulate what I was thinking.

After an evening spent in a local pub over a disappointingly tasteless bar snack we strolled back to the B&B. I had to dose up on painkillers as my back and knees were particularly stiff and painful. I then found out the room was cold, damp and mouldy around the window frames. Kay was lolling on her bed watching TV. She prefers to loll rather than sit in chairs. She wasn't using either of the 2 comfortable chairs in her room. I had one small slipper chair wedged against the bed and the wall. No chance to sit and read in comfort or to fill in my daily diary. I then experienced 2 hours sleep but was awake from 1.15 in a cold damp bedroom with barely room to swing a little mouse. As the night wore on I started to feel resentful.

With only 2 hours sleep it meant the next day passed in a sleep deprived haze. I felt nauseous, increasingly stiff and struggled to keep up with conversation and exploring the area. Kay seemed impervious to how I was feeling. Eventually at 3 p.m we stopped in a hotel for afternoon tea. Kay blithely telling me I had to stay awake till late or I'd have trouble sleeping again.

The hotel was blissfully warm. It was cosy. It was clean. It was welcoming. It had rooms available. I'd talked to reception on a trip to the ladies powder room. There were single rooms from £75/ Or, for myself, a large superior spacious double bedroom at £115 a night. I was all for returning to the B&B Guest House - checking out and moving in to the hotel. But Kay was almost in tears ... she was annoyed that I'd think of moving on ... she was concerned about upsetting the feelings of the B&B owner ... when I explained that at this rate I wouldn't have the energy to get to the reunion she then started to worry about going to the event alone. She told me that I should have booked us into a hotel if I was incapable of accepting smaller more cramped accommodation. She suggested that I stay at the B&B another night when exhaustion should help me sleep better (a fair point, but ..) if I had another bad night I could go to the reunion and then drive home afterwards. Although she agreed with me she would find the journey after the event hard to do she would do the same as she "couldn't remain at that grotty B&B" without me.

It was therefore clear to me she could or would not remain in "that grotty B&B" without me. She would rather upset me than offend the owner of the B&B. I'd expected to do the dirty deed myself of extricating ourselves and if necessary pay a cancellation fee after I'd expressed my disappointment on the state of the room. It was also clear she felt incapable of meeting up with old colleagues without me.

She did kindly tell me that in her opinion, I'd placed "too much importance on this weekend away" as I not had any other holidays. And she thought I should on my return home book into The Woolacombe Bay Hotel for a relaxing break before Christmas. It was at that stage I broke down and shed tears over the tea tray. I realised then it was the Death of our Friendship. I cried for what I thought I'd had and had found out that I hadn't had at all. A good friend.

She has listened but she has not heard. Over the last 6 years I've talked over the difficulties we faced at home. Of how hard I find it to take time out for myself. To get away. She has obviously not understood one word I've said. I have tried to keep up my end with the fun and laughter. But I have so little energy I cannot squander it. This weekend with her felt as if my remaining energy was being sucked from me.

It seemed so very important to her that we did not decamp to the warmth of the hotel. I gave up the idea. I was by that time so distressed the hotel couldn't have cured what ailed me. Regardless of how warm and comforting it was. A drug induced sleep helped me to feel a little better and to get through the next day. But the 3rd night was once again sleepless. That along with an allergic reaction to something in that room saw me driving home as speedily as possible with a rapidly swelling face and an itchy rash.

Thorny Issues

I've generally become used to a lower standard of living over the last 7 years. Financially, socially and domestically. Financially we had to curtail our spending once we realised that aMyMan's 'temporary period' of sick leave was stretching ahead with no end in sight. When self employed 'Sick Leave' isn't taken lightly. It can lead to an impression of unreliability. A self employed consultant is only as good as his reputation for delivering as per contract. MyMan took short term sick leave hoping that his health problems would improve with a period of rest. Once we realised it wouldn't we had to revise our plans and start living off hard earned capital. The Savings hoarded for our retirement. A small level of income from Incapacity Benefit along with the Mobility component of Disability Living Allowance [DLA] helped to pay for the essential extras such as his regular massage and chiropractic treatments.

Money was enough to pay for domestic essentials, the necessities of life. Clothes were serviceable rather than fashionable. Unable to take a holiday or meals out due to his disability meant we didn't miss not having the money to enjoy such luxuries. All manner of other economies were practiced for 7 years. Unable to work myself due to caring for MyMan any spare cash I had paid for voluntary NI contributions towards my state pension.

I knew from my previous professional experience in Social Services that MyMan should ask for a re-assessment of his DLA benefit. But he was reluctant. As he is not in a wheelchair he doesn't consider himself disabled. Disabled people in wheelchairs are able to do far more than he does and have a better quality of life. But there was no persuading him even when I told him it would help my finances if I was recognised by DWP as his carer. In the end with my savings whittling away I applied to my employer for a pension forecast and asked if it would be possible to be considered for early retirment on compassionate grounds. I was lucky, this was agreed about a year ago. I am so grateful as the regular small income removed some financial pressure.

Then last year MyMan's Community Psychiatric Nurse [CPN] asked him why didn't he receive the higher rate of DLA on Personal Care along with the Mobility component. At last MyMan agreed to apply for a re-assessment. The CPN and I completed the form on his behalf. A mammoth task in itself. Several weeks later the DWP advised us that on consideration an increase of benefit was turned down.

MyMan doesn't have the energy for day to day living. Anything else is far too much effort. He would have accepted the decision. But I felt that to have done so was to give in too easily. I wrote to ask for the reasons for their decision. I thought we should appeal against the decision. It was another chore I didn't need. Another stressor to contend with. MyMan said he had no intention of going to appeal - it would be something he just couldn't cope with. He was too tired and couldn't go through 'yet another medical examination'. He is fed up with hospitals and tests etc. I thought we should go through the appeal process , if he had to undergo another medical we could request that it be conducted at home to save him travelling. In the event we didn't need to; a letter arrived a few weeks later. After gathering evidence from his doctors, his chiropractor and CPN, he has been granted the maximum level of DLA.

I then applied for Carer's Allowance which went through very quickly. This extra amount of cash has relieved yet more of the worry about our finances. But by this time next year I won't be receiving it as I'll be entitled to claim my State pension. I'm not sure whether one is still paid a Carer's Allowance if decide to opt for a deferred payment of the State Pension. I'll have to seek advice.

I understand how MyMan feels about being labelled 'disabled' [although I prefer to think of it as 'less able'] I also have a problem thinking of myself as a 'Carer'. But that is what I am now - more than just a wife. The caring aspect is very demanding and emotionally draining, taking up much of my time. I no longer have time or energy to spend on the things I used to do. Domestically Standards have slipped. Little jobs that need doing around the house get left. It depresses me as my values are now lower. Caring is energy sapping beyond belief. When I have some time to myself I have to weigh up which is my highest need at that time. Sometimes it is to generally to clear de clutter out of the way, often to potter in the garden, many times to go out and seek some social interaction, light releif, and lately to study what I am learning at my weekly Bridge lessons.


A morning out of my week to take bridge lessons reduced the amount of time available for chores, something else had to give way. This year it has been the gardening. I am relying on the weekly 2 hours paid gardening help to just keep the garden ticking over. Plans for changes or new plantings have been postponed for another year.

When friends visit I know they probably wonder what I do with my time. I am still protective of MyMan's feelings so I don't explain. He needs so much in the way of prompting ' take pills, eat, shower, shave' etc. I don't think they realise that all he does each week is to clear the recycling and rubbish out ready for collection. Over the year he takes care of financial decisions on savings, investments and filling out tax returns. He struggles to manage these jobs but if he stops then what else will he have to boost his self esteem. I have to help by form filling or writing letters on his behalf. As his energy or pain levels are so variable I have to be ready to help at the drop of a hat when he wants to write a letter. When he does feel energetic he wants to get on with a task straight away as he never knows when he'll have another brief burst of energy.

Getting out of the house for exercise is confined to his 15 minute walk to buy a daily paper 4 days out of 7. The short walk home up the steep hill drains him. I save one day a week when I try take him out in the car. We can manage 2 hours out on a good day. So I look for a 15 minute journey - an hour there, a coffee break and a 15 minute trip home again. He usually needs to take a good rest on the bed to recover from such an outing. It doesn't always work to plan. I sometimes have to juggle plans. When he's not well enough to go we postpone to another day. If he doesn't get out in the car at least once a week then I worry that he'll become a homely version of institutionalised and agoraphobic.

Today we went to Homebase at Honiton to buy some plastic patio plant pots. We have 3 roses which need planting into patio pots. MyMan loves roses and said he wanted more. 'I'll take care of them' he said. Just as he said over the last 2 roses which he loves but hasn't weeded or pruned in the 5 years we've had them. But he is so rarely enthusiastic that I couldn't bear to demand a promise that he would take care of them. I'm hoping that he'll pot them on while I vacuum through tomorrow or when I'm at Bridge lesson next week.

What I haven't yet decided is - if he is too tired or feels too ill to deal with them do I get on and plant them on [I hate handling rose bushes - ouch!] or do I let them die and wither through neglect. I'm not sure which of these outomes will distress him the most.

An Apology

I had a handsome apology yesterday morning. MyMan said that I was quite right in what I had suggested the day before. My suggestion on what I believed needed doing and the manner in which I thought it should be done would have saved us time and stress on Tuesday morning when 2 men came to collect our surplus household goods.

Our trouble is that I am a natural born organiser. Previously when MyMan worked away from home I was used to organising/arranging/overseeing all practical tasks. A sort of Domestic Project Manager. I find it difficult not to continue in the role. MyMan still has very low energy levels. I therefore try and conserve his physical/mental energy to cope with the tasks that I find physically impossible to complete. I do a great deal of thinking and planning. When I try to talk it through with him - 'the plan of action' - he doesn't want to be bothered with the details or the nitty gritty. He's too tired to bother. But when we come to getting on with the job he dislikes being directed on what to do. He feels too weak to cope and this along with his current low self esteem makes him even angrier.

It's not helped by the fact that the small domestic jobs he said he would sort out didn't go to plan. Getting out the recycling and rubbish after the Good Friday and Easter Monday bank holiday. He hadn't read the information sheet from EDDC correctly. He confused the recycling with the rubbish collection days. We therefore missed both. I thought it was more than my life was worth to check up on this and left him to his own devices. If I'd questioned the fact that recycling was postponed by a day it would have undermined his feelings but now that he has found out he made the mistake he feels even more incompetent. There is no way I can see of getting this right .....

At least we've had a laugh together today. I told him that this morning as I dressed I put on my watch and wedding ring. It reminded me it was the same action which made me pause and think rather than storming out and leaving him on Monday afternoon. About how ridiculous it was. In the midst of getting ready to walk out and leave I am carefully putting on my wedding ring .... Now if I wore my ring permanently I may have been long gone by now..

Coping Strategies

Like a widow I am going to have to learn to be more resourceful. But unlike a widow I don't have the luxury of a home to return to - to curl up alone in a safe place and 'lick my wounds'. When I'm out and about I have to put on a 'brave face' otherwise people will avoid me. Friends understand and are quietly supportive if I'm not on top form. When I'm home I have to put on a brave face again.Otherwise my depressive gets even more anxious and upset at the distress he is causing me and how it is upsetting my life. It's a roller coaster ride. Sometimes the negativity is soul destroying. The petty nit picking is demoralising. I've lost my best friend and I'm sad.

I examine the website on how to cope with self esteem problems when living with a depressed person and know that although I often feel that life is a sickening roller coaster ride and feel as if I am trying to balance on a very wobbly fence - it is not surprising that I feel burnt out and stressed.
To quote Anne Sheffield "Interactions with depression sufferers range from difficult to unbearable. When you offer love and affection, they are not returned. When you offer sympathy, you are told you don't understand what is wrong. When you offer support, you receive complaints that it is not enough, or not the right kind. Those who remind us of the depressive's need for sympathy, support, and love are correct, but they leave out the other half of the equation: it is hard to give all those things when you're not receiving them."