Post 296: My Darling’s worn out.
It doesn’t matter how much you care for someone or are being cared for by someone — even if they are your best friends forever — everything is cast in their face about how they feel.
After a long weekend of terrible “bads” and hilarious moments of happiness and love, I was on the throne and my Darling was impatiently waiting to help me get to bed two yards away on the landing carpet. As I looked up at her at that moment, I could see nothing but annoyance that I was keeping her from getting into her bed. I snapped.
Yesterday was a restful day and always was going to be a restful day, but when I saw our youngest’ fiancé’s gesture of love in a text in our family group:
“Gosh, it sounds like you had quite a night. Glad you are back at home and starting to recover, I hope? If we can do anything, give us a shout X”
I immediately and without thinking said from the pit of my selfish heart:
“Bring Byron round — that would really cheer me up 
”
This was more an unstoppable feeling or wish to see someone, and seeing Byron would terrorise the house and cat too, which would lift my spirits.
Within minutes I was crying with delight because Byron’s Ma and Pa said they would allow him (Byron) to come out and play.
It’s so hard sometimes to pick yourself up, especially when things are going wrong, but it only takes something simple and heartfelt to launch you back into flight.
——
The start to the day was limp but at least I was home. I was lucky to be allowed home with such a big CRP, so I was happy.
The day was grinding by and I was resting, but now our eldest and his wife are so far away it’s never the case that anyone just pops in anymore. They always did, and usually without any warning — there was no need. The door was always open.
Also her inquiring mind was full of questions about here, there, and the world. But she’d ask me and if I didn’t know the answer I’d look it up and we would both learn.
Those days we packed up in their suitcases and all headed north to Cumberland.
I have to admit that my eldest is very like me in some ways and his controlling mind works just like mine. I’ve always been helpful to my late mum and dad and respectful to my Darling’s late mum and dad, but those days were a world away from what we now call life.
I used to drop in to mum’s or dad’s place whenever I felt like it and the car was always full of the joys and paraphernalia of a typical 90s family.
The kids both loved Nanny and Granddad, so they were happy and the space to run was enormous and interesting compared to their normal world of two rooms in a tiny boring flat. But that’s all we had.
Leading on to how my Darling and I were during those magical, nightmarish, happy and sad times, I would say on the whole we were always together. In every way. Parenting was best that way and we formed a wall of mum and dad bricks that couldn’t be penetrated by wilful kids. Psychology played a part and in those days (the 90s) I think we were part of a UK plc plan of coercion where the TV stared and the food and pharma gods ruled our lives. We had what they wanted us to have even when we didn’t.
But I’m off on a tangent there.
We parented well, in my view, and as I already said we were always together.
How we arrived at the same goal, same ideas, and same low expectations with such high hopes, I don’t know. I do know that while the children grew to what they are today, we grew apart in a parallel way — both going the same direction with the same thoughts and drive and friends, but slightly apart.
Later, when the kids went away and became independent of us, we were able to enjoy a break from the day-to-day parenting. We were able to reform into the couple we are now.
There were times when I didn’t appreciate my Darling as I should have, but I try my best to be the best husband I can.
Now the relationship has changed again and this time the changes are much harder to face and impossible to overcome alone. Cohesion is the only way.
So I was on the loo looking at my Darling, looking back as if I wasn’t there her day would be better. This feeling didn’t pass like my urine, but fired me up. So much so that I was determined to let my carer get to bed ASAP.
So when I cleaned up and she followed me to “tuck me in”, which she thinks is helping with socks, trousers, etc., and I think all that was needed was a kiss goodnight, I chased her away being the overbearing independent sod I can be sometimes.
I closed the door on her and bawling my eyes out sat on the bed wondering if I had the strength and agility to undress and dress myself — which I did — then went straight to sleep to cool down and to sleep like I ought to sleep every day.
So I’m in the dog house, but I’m far more comfortable about being independent and trying to get up and stand up for a while.
I’ve been bashed lately and I’m not well or fully independent. I still don’t drive much, but I’m not dead yet.
Thank you my Darling. I need your love and help every day, but I need to be independent too. I bet, on my face is written how I feel too. It’s ment to read;
I love you.
Good night all,
P.S.
⸻
