11/30 days writing for the month of April. 37 %. (And, yes, I needed a calculator to do that math. Ha.) Eh. Not my best showing. Don't worry though.... I will keep writing for a while yet... please keep checking back. I may be able to get the rest done in May. ;)
I shared an article on my facebook page the other day. It was from a site called The Caregiver Network. It actually struck quite a chord with me. It's no secret that I've been struggling a lot this past year. The last thing I want to do is 'burn-out'. I have a lifetime of care-giving ahead of me. I can't burn out now.
I guess I'm writing about this tonight because I was thinking about it a lot today. I know I sound like a broken record... but this past year has done quite the number on me, on Vicki, on my husband, and on Joe and Ally. You never realize how fortunate you are -- being about to get in a vehicle and go for a drive, go do things, interact with the world. Until you can't anymore. We've always done things as a family. It wasn't always easy and things didn't always go well, but we kept trying.
And I think that's one of the things that makes me sad. I feel like I've stopped trying. Like tonight... it's been a really long week with both Ally and Joe having had the flu. Sometimes I feel like the walls are smothering me. And tonight my husband kind of suggested we all get in the car and drive down to Costco since the kids were feeling better. (And in a way, that sounded heavenly.) But then we exchanged looks with each other, and quietly decided not to try that. And it broke my heart. But it's easier not to try. One big reason is for safety. And that's something we are constantly aware of. At what cost do we put Vicki through trying to get in a vehicle? We worry both about the safety of Vicki and the safety of my husband as she is fighting. And then IF we were to get her in... then what? I would sit in the car with her while my husband and other kids went into Costco. And then we would have to struggle again to get her out of the van at home. And who knows how long those transitions would actually take. So it's easier to not try.
I've seen such a change in me too. It's easier to just keep my sweats and old t-shirt on and not bother trying to fix myself up and make myself 'presentable'. Sad. I know. It takes everything I have sometimes to do that.
Even though sometimes I feel like the walls of our house are closing in on me... it's an odd sort of comfort. I'm safe here. I'm used to it here. It's easier here. It takes everything I have to actually agree to go meet someone for a cup of coffee and girl talk when Vicki is at school. And that's the only time I can get away. And even then, it's easier not to. And I know that's dangerous.
About a month ago or so, I was able to take Ally to a function at school for about an hour one evening. It had been quite a while since I had done that. It was hard. I'm not quite sure how to describe it. Again, the author, Zachary White, from the article I read entitled "Inside Out" summed it up pretty good: