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Week 9 The Monsters in our Heads

I want to curl up and watch “2 Penttutikal” but this blog keeps snapping at the back of my mind like my childhood Australian terrier and our postman (yup- my dog used to actually chase (And bite) the postman)

I have (amongst other things) PTSD. That is one of the few boxes I’ve been put in that made sense. 

Big M my its-so-bloody-complicated-and-not-for-this-post is my Carer.

If we didn’t have kids, people might see things differently.

If I had physical therapy, was in a wheel chair or had a cast, people might see things differently.

If I was vomiting from radiation or even just had a run of nasty virus'(knock on all wooden objects within sight) people might see things differently –less likely in this medicate and get on with it world but still…

If every day Big M got up and went to someone else’s house dressed in a snazzy polo shirt with a logo, while a different person in said snazzy polo shirt came here, people might see things differently.

Just look at those snazzy button up shirts (nothing against outside care at all- people who do this as a job ROCK)

As it is we are two stay at home parents ( to most)

To some : I’m not doing brilliantly, he’s my Carer but – so?

 To very few we are both coping – Big M with a 18/7 job and I with being a full time Mum with PTSD, ANA, GAD and BPD (plus even more abbreviations irrelivant to this post).

These people are few and far between (And much appreciated)

On a bad day Big M isn’t even one of them.

On a bad day caring for me isn’t a job or responsibility – it’s a hinderence.

On a very bad day I offer to get in another Carer or leave so he can manage others expectations and his wants and I can look after what bub and I need.

It’s been a very bad week.

Because in my mind- and in  some others I’m meant to just cope when this bugger of a disease interferes withmy plans and thus their plans either for me, Big M or my children.

I’m fairly sure no one would tell an obstetrician they should have skipped the birth of one of their patients because it meant they and their partner who had to stay home for the kids missed a dinner party.

I can imagine the conversation:

“But couldn’t you have just ignored your pager? I checked you were coming three days ago and you said yes!. Surely you could just have just ignored her? And I can’t believe Matt didn’t turn up- toddlers are okay on their own”

 Ok – appalling example but thats because there isn’t one that matches.

There is nothing quite like the hell of being told what you can and cannot do by experiences you lived half a life ago that won’t leave you alone.

The irony of a disorder that makes you desperate for contact with people but then finding it impossible to cope with.

And then that people resent you for needing the supports you have put in place – it’s like that thing in primary school where everyone wanted a go on the crutches when someone sprained their ankle. Except no one gives them back when the bell rings.

I just wish everybody knew I’m doing the best that I can but that my absolute best will always always be reserved for my youngest, then the rest of my little lot.

I wish they could be understanding. Hell, I just wish they were okay with it.

And to anyone out there going through this- one person gets it. Just one voice but (trust me) better than none.

Which is why if nothing else came out of this week at least I found pins like this one :

And this one:

 And this one

which led to this post.
 So there, task complete.

Read on for some helpful info :

 

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