the stress level in my fat little head is crazy right now. I have no idea if things are going to get better, or worse, or stay the same (really hard) as they are now. But the odds on 'better' wouldn't convince me to lay any money down.
This SUCKS because it's not something any of us did wrong. Hubby is a wonderful man, but Parkinson's doesn't care if you deserve it. The Pumpkin is an amazing little guy, but I worry that he will grow up seeing his daddy deteriorate and his parents get more and more stressed and angry all the time. Plus, this week he has pink-eye. Yay.
And I feel like what was the freaking point of doing everything the right way? Which I did. I was responsible, and thoughtful, and all of that shit, and look where I am. I didn't rush in to marriage, I waited until I was both eager for, and able to support a baby before having one. I am careful with my bills and credit, I work in a career that is hard, but fulfilling and not designed to line the pockets of a few old white guys. I recycle. I turn off the lights when I leave a room. I use more tech than most teachers in the district, largely because I hate the idea of all the clear-cuts that go into the paper in our imc.
And yet life keeps handing me rotton lemons this year. I say rotton, because you can't make lemonade out of a disabled husband who broke his hip twice in two months and now cries every time he gets out of a chair. I see no caraf of icy-cold goodness coming from the perenial state budget shortfalls that will, at their best, have me teaching much larger classes, and at the worst have me in the lay-off firing line again.
And I know that others have it way worse. I am so insanely grateful that Pumpkin is happy and healthy (current crustiness aside), and I do still have a job so far.
But I am reaching the breaking point. And it's because of the moaning. Ahiru, who used to be so brave and calm, has gone over the edge. Every single breath comes out as a moan. Every. single. one. Unless of course, there are people around to hear besides the Pumpkin and myself - he works very hard to spare others his new habit, but the two people who live with him hear it for hours at a time.
And when something hurts, he says so, over and over - not just once or twice, but 15 or 20 times, rapidly, before moving on to repetative cussing, repetetive doom-saying, and back to the moaning.
I feel like such a raging bitch, because I do know that it hurts. He's not making it up. But I can't handle hearing about it every waking second. He can't change a diaper without an unbroken stream of complaint. He can't get up, or down, or anything. And when I try to ask him to stop, he won't / can't (I go back and forth depending on my mood), and I am forced into the choice of simply listening to the stressful shit, or nagging.
Which of course starts an argument.
And now, I am bitching to the void of the internet because I am so tired of bitching at home. But this won't make any more difference than my requests to him have made.
So my stress, it's not going down.