Although I am disappointed that we haven't made much progress over this year I do have much for which to be grateful. And on reflection I feel some improvement in my general attitude compared to when I started to blog.
I am pleased that MyMan and I exchanged bedrooms. He is happier in the smaller quieter room. I have still to release my PC desk from 'captivity' in his bedroom. But hope that we'll be able to do so early in the new year. Friends have offered to lend some muscle. I love my pink room and having much greater wardrobe space and storage.
We managed to sell my lovely old [circa 1995] Rover 216 a few months ago. We are still in the process of deciding which car to buy next. After much time and effort we are down to 2 possible contenders. Citroen C4 Grand Picasso or the Nissan Cashcow (Qashqai). We both love the Honda CRV but MyMan finds it a bit too high for easy access even though I offered to buy a step stool. The Nissan drives beautifully and feels more solid than my Jazz. Even more so after my recent dust up with a white van man in Sidford. The Citroen feels spacious and comfortable but I've yet try it on a test drive.
Having attended several funerals this year I realise that although I feel sad I'm no longer gripped by feelings of intense grief. I have recovered from bereavement; of the loss of close family members such as my father, a much loved uncle and our 2 cats. Although I still occasionally feel a very deep sadness and frustration that life and 'retirement' is not going as I would wish I am coping better. I am 'down' for a shorter period. I no longer try to bottle up my feelings. I whinge, rant and gripe here on my blog. I also feel free to have a weep to let it out. Sometimes in front of MyMan. He knows his depression, angry irritability, forgetfulness and withdrawal from social situations affects me. I no longer feel I have to hide my feelings. To bottle it all up until I'm alone in a car somewhere. I still do try to keep a smiling stiff upper lip but it sometimes trembles over the loose flabby bottom lip.
Money worries are less pressing. Well, they are so long as no other British bank, building society or any other financial institution holding my pension or savings go bust.
Bridge lessons have opened up a whole new avenue for me. There are so many single people playing [widows, divorced people and married but with partners who can't stand card games] that I fit in well. Even a married couple are taking lessons but will not play with each other. The game is fun, stimulating, challenging, sociable, intellectually demanding, intriguing and absorbs a great many of my overactive brain cells. When I've played bridge my mind feels more settled and I sleep better. I don't lie awake worrying about problems so often as I used to. I love learning new skills. The more challenging the better.
I am beginning to find I am able to concentrate on reading again. I can lose myself for a short while in a good book. I do try to choose happier, heart warming and uplifting tales. I see no reason to read dreary depressing stories. I want escapism.
One main change in MyMan is he feels less resistant to using the Blue Badge for parking. It has been very useful for hospital appointments and visits to the solicitor in Exeter city centre. It has reduced the pressure on my trying to find somewhere suitable to drop him off, rushing off to find a parking space then rush back to pick him up again. He is also considering using a walking stick. Finally he is using more pain medication and intends to request a re-referral to the pain management centre. He is no longer fighting to ignore that he is unable to carry on as 'normal'. I think he continued to hope he'd improve. Now that realises he is slowly getting worse he is going to take any help that is on offer. I think finally he is accepting that 'this is it'.
Showing posts with label weep. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weep. Show all posts
Monday, 22 December 2008
Saturday, 18 October 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, 20 August 2008
Emotional breakdown . . .
I've had an emotional breakdown. A few days ago we started to discuss all our options on moving house. MyMan's chiropractor has again told him to walk only on level ground. Not to climb hills.
I am still keen to return to Surrey/Sussex area to be closer to family. MyMan cannot imagine being back in the over crowded south east. Where there are stabbings, droughts and traffic jams on an hourly basis. He knows. He reads the newspapers. He watches the TV and sees Sky News 24. He tells me that I wont feel safe there. It doesn't matter that I tell him I have felt no fear when I go on a visit.
He asked why I am so keen on living there. When I said I would like to see family once a week for a few hours at a time rather than once a year for a week he told me it was an emotional reaction. Yes it is. I then became even more emotional and spent 6 days crying at the drop of a hat.
When I wasn't crying we tried to talk about my emotional feelings in a rational way. I explained just how wearying it is having to schedule in arrangements so that I can visit family. How much of a strain it feels choosing the 'right time' to leave him for a week. How tired I am to begin with. How tiring the journey can be. How tiring it is to get around to visit with each member of the family so that none feel slighted or left out. How so many deaths of the older members still haunt me as I'd not had chance to see them when they were ill. How I'd missed out on attending their funerals.
How after a few days of being away, with time to laugh giggle and relax with my sister and friends that after a few days I have then to start thinking of the journey home and returning to 'normal life'. How much harder I find it to cope on my return. That the few days away has just emphasized how much I am missing in my day to day life. That if he died tomorrow I would sell up and relocate.
He suggested that I look at going up there more often. Several times a year as I used to when we lived in Gloucestershire. When I was 10 years younger than now. It wont solve the problem that I'll soon be another 10 years older and will find the journey even harder than now.
I fail to see how it matters to him where he lives. That apart from going out to take a small amount of exercise he never wants to go out. He doesn't want visitors. He doesn't want to socialise. He's reclusive and non communicative. I attempted a rational explanation of how lonely and alone I often felt. I even wonder whether once living near our old home town again he wouldn't want to get out and about.To look at his old haunts. To watch a game at his favourite football club.
And also there is my fear that he may get worse. And then I wouldn't be able to leave him for a week. Never mind several times a year.
I am still keen to return to Surrey/Sussex area to be closer to family. MyMan cannot imagine being back in the over crowded south east. Where there are stabbings, droughts and traffic jams on an hourly basis. He knows. He reads the newspapers. He watches the TV and sees Sky News 24. He tells me that I wont feel safe there. It doesn't matter that I tell him I have felt no fear when I go on a visit.
He asked why I am so keen on living there. When I said I would like to see family once a week for a few hours at a time rather than once a year for a week he told me it was an emotional reaction. Yes it is. I then became even more emotional and spent 6 days crying at the drop of a hat.
When I wasn't crying we tried to talk about my emotional feelings in a rational way. I explained just how wearying it is having to schedule in arrangements so that I can visit family. How much of a strain it feels choosing the 'right time' to leave him for a week. How tired I am to begin with. How tiring the journey can be. How tiring it is to get around to visit with each member of the family so that none feel slighted or left out. How so many deaths of the older members still haunt me as I'd not had chance to see them when they were ill. How I'd missed out on attending their funerals.
How after a few days of being away, with time to laugh giggle and relax with my sister and friends that after a few days I have then to start thinking of the journey home and returning to 'normal life'. How much harder I find it to cope on my return. That the few days away has just emphasized how much I am missing in my day to day life. That if he died tomorrow I would sell up and relocate.
He suggested that I look at going up there more often. Several times a year as I used to when we lived in Gloucestershire. When I was 10 years younger than now. It wont solve the problem that I'll soon be another 10 years older and will find the journey even harder than now.
I fail to see how it matters to him where he lives. That apart from going out to take a small amount of exercise he never wants to go out. He doesn't want visitors. He doesn't want to socialise. He's reclusive and non communicative. I attempted a rational explanation of how lonely and alone I often felt. I even wonder whether once living near our old home town again he wouldn't want to get out and about.To look at his old haunts. To watch a game at his favourite football club.
And also there is my fear that he may get worse. And then I wouldn't be able to leave him for a week. Never mind several times a year.
Monday, 24 March 2008
What a pain
MyMan did have another extraction last week. It was a difficult one. this tooth had a 'hooked' root. Since then he has suffered even more neuralgia, a swollen face and extreme migraines caused by the increased tension in his neck muscles. To say that he has been even more withdrawn and impatient would be an understatement. I've spent a week tip toeing around him. Making him as comfortable as possible. Helping him by producing easy chew foods, quietly reading in the lounge while he watches cricket, not complaining when he's impatient or aggressive.
But today we had a chore to complete. A deadline to meet for Tuesday morning when MyMan had arrange for someone to collect a pile of furniture for sale (we are de-cluttering in readiness to downsize). I tried to be as accommodating and helpful as possible. I could see that he was still in pain. But when I couldn't understand something, I asked the wrong thing in the wrong way at the wrong time and before I knew it I was accused of being difficult. Then we were in the middle of a full scale argument. A Mega Row. I have never felt so angry in all my life. I don't do anger. I surprised myself and him.
I said I was off out to get away. I was sorely tempted to pack my bags and leave. But in the act of collecting my out door things, my bag and credit card I realised that to storm out I'd find it hard, later when Ihad calmed down, to return. I very much wanted to leave and never return. But knew that at some point I would worry enough about him to return home. I didn't go anywhere. I sat and tried to figure out how best to cope with the fact that this isn't just a case of 'at the moment' but that 'this is it' . He hasn't got any better over 7 years. I need to re-adjust and accept that this is it.
I'm still keen on the idea of his/her's apartments. Where I can do all the domestic routine chores to ensure he is clean, tidy and well catered for. But so that I am able to have my own separate space too. Where I can invite friends in to chat, laugh, drink tea - or better still wine. Gossip and exchange views. Where I can relax and connect with people without the awareness that he's not happy, not feeling sociable, that he is irritated by the talk of people's holidays, envious of their enjoyment of the simple things in life. Where he is just about coping until they leave. I find it inhibits my usual laid back relaxing way of entertaining. It's far too stressful to contemplate throwing any tea or dinner party.
I have always been more socialable than he. I grew up with large family gatherings. He didn't. Our family would gather round the table after tea for card games. Simple fun noisy games if children were included, otherwise cribbage, solo, whist tournaments. We used to be each other's best friend. He didn't feel the need to include others. But he used to recognise that I was different. We used to 'give and take' in turn. Now it feels as if I'm always giving and he's always taking.
Needless to say - being a woman I eventually cried. This time I shed tears in luxury on the settee, not in the car park in the driving rain. More words, recriminations. How frustrated and angry he feels and how 'useless'. We managed to get beyond the anger and my tears. Tried to sort out how we could cope. There is no definite answer. I was so sorely tempted to accept and run with the idea that we separate when he wondered if it would 'be for the best'. He knows the effect it has on me but he doesn't feel able to change - enough.
Physically now I feel awful. Sore eyes , stuffed head, thick nose, stiff shoulders and neck. He appears revitalised and hasn't moaned once this evening about how low spirited he feels or the amount of pain hehas. Perhaps I should lose my temper more often.
But today we had a chore to complete. A deadline to meet for Tuesday morning when MyMan had arrange for someone to collect a pile of furniture for sale (we are de-cluttering in readiness to downsize). I tried to be as accommodating and helpful as possible. I could see that he was still in pain. But when I couldn't understand something, I asked the wrong thing in the wrong way at the wrong time and before I knew it I was accused of being difficult. Then we were in the middle of a full scale argument. A Mega Row. I have never felt so angry in all my life. I don't do anger. I surprised myself and him.
I said I was off out to get away. I was sorely tempted to pack my bags and leave. But in the act of collecting my out door things, my bag and credit card I realised that to storm out I'd find it hard, later when Ihad calmed down, to return. I very much wanted to leave and never return. But knew that at some point I would worry enough about him to return home. I didn't go anywhere. I sat and tried to figure out how best to cope with the fact that this isn't just a case of 'at the moment' but that 'this is it' . He hasn't got any better over 7 years. I need to re-adjust and accept that this is it.
I'm still keen on the idea of his/her's apartments. Where I can do all the domestic routine chores to ensure he is clean, tidy and well catered for. But so that I am able to have my own separate space too. Where I can invite friends in to chat, laugh, drink tea - or better still wine. Gossip and exchange views. Where I can relax and connect with people without the awareness that he's not happy, not feeling sociable, that he is irritated by the talk of people's holidays, envious of their enjoyment of the simple things in life. Where he is just about coping until they leave. I find it inhibits my usual laid back relaxing way of entertaining. It's far too stressful to contemplate throwing any tea or dinner party.
I have always been more socialable than he. I grew up with large family gatherings. He didn't. Our family would gather round the table after tea for card games. Simple fun noisy games if children were included, otherwise cribbage, solo, whist tournaments. We used to be each other's best friend. He didn't feel the need to include others. But he used to recognise that I was different. We used to 'give and take' in turn. Now it feels as if I'm always giving and he's always taking.
Needless to say - being a woman I eventually cried. This time I shed tears in luxury on the settee, not in the car park in the driving rain. More words, recriminations. How frustrated and angry he feels and how 'useless'. We managed to get beyond the anger and my tears. Tried to sort out how we could cope. There is no definite answer. I was so sorely tempted to accept and run with the idea that we separate when he wondered if it would 'be for the best'. He knows the effect it has on me but he doesn't feel able to change - enough.
Physically now I feel awful. Sore eyes , stuffed head, thick nose, stiff shoulders and neck. He appears revitalised and hasn't moaned once this evening about how low spirited he feels or the amount of pain hehas. Perhaps I should lose my temper more often.
Wednesday, 25 July 2007
Improving Mental Health
Once again I've started to enjoy all the little things that I used to enjoy. Some of them I had set aside as being too much bother, too noisy, too time consuming or too full of self pity. But I think now that I'm letting myself emerge again I'm beginning to feel a little more content. I read. I listen to music. I sit quietly and think, without feeling guilty that there are chores to be done. I've started a bit more gardening without feeling guilty that the whole garden needs weeding. At least I've done a small patch (ouch those muscles hurt!). I meet friends for coffee regularly and chat about nothing much and share some laughter. I'm glad to say they have stopped asking after MyMan every time for which I'm grateful. I still find it difficult to say 'he's no better' without trying to put a positive gloss on it. I'm still inclined to feel a little 'left out' when I'm not invited along to 'couples' events. So I'll search out a new group to join where I can be just 'me'. Where no one knows MyMan and wont be asking after the latest health bulletin. Something that will stretch me mentally. Maybe a photography club or a creative writing course. I've a few weeks yet to make a decision. I allow myself to feel and release anger. And grief. I've had so many bereavements over the last 5 years and not properly recovered. So many losses. I allow myself to cry, to weep and wail. Better than to keep it bottled up. To carry on coping. I am learning to cope again. And I am in the middle of inventing a new me.
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