I do not know how your mind works, but I go off on tangents. My better half says i block him, but my mind is so active i am easily bored by the mundane. I truly try to hear everyone, but sometimes i think i know what they are going to say to me, so I go back to my lists of chores in my head. Maybe that is selfish, but that is how my mind works. I took a hit in my pride for bringing up Zombies (i know two people that got a job with Brad), and then turning the topic to religion.
I told them to deal with it, but i dealt with it too. Was I scheming? nah i only have 4 followers, and the rest of you i do not know who you are and i assume it changes often. I can't guarantee that any of my kids give me a chance.I just tell my little stories and move on. Zombies fascinates me because i think most people are zombies at one time in their life or another. I know new parents are, they neither eat, shower, or sleep for many weeks.
But the real zombies are the chronically ill who are not dying, per se, but have to live with a body that becomes a stranger to them. Slowly I am becoming someone who can't move very well. I used to have a Nova and everyone said i could go anywhere in 15 minutes because everything i owned fit in my car. Now i must be driven, I cannot work, and i walk around here half-dead waiting for my hubby to return. Some days it hurts to breathe, some days it hurts to think. Some days i think i am the old Brenda again and tear into my chores. My only sense of worth now comes from JIm noticing if i were able to do anything or not today. Poor JIm is tired sometimes and misses something,and I cry and cry. I do not have friends, I take hostages. If you come for a wee visit to cheer me up , i wont let you go, i talk and talk and talk. I think some people are afraid to return. I don't blame them.
Loud large crowds frighten me, and I sit outside at the club, as that buffers some of the noise. I make a lot of noise, but i can't tolerate others doing it. The Zombie rules. The one I pity most is my family because no one realizes it is harder to be the carer than the cared for. I am sure the boys think our bickering is ugly and they want real love in their lives. We bicker to let off steam, it is never about what we are bickering about.JIm has no one to say, sometimes i am so tired and she has an accident and I have to step in. If i fall he has to get me in the ambulance because i will fight it. He has to listen to me beg for a drink when he knows i asked him to restrict my fluids. He has to stand on his head to get me to eat, because i am diabetic and must eat although most of the time i do not wish to. He does most of the shopping now, all of the driving, and the minute he gets in the door I descend upon him for news of the world. Just once i bet he wishes he could have a half hour to himself to chill, then he could start in taking care of things again.
SO, if you are tempted to support someone, give Jim an atta boy, because no one sees the pain of the carer. He must respond when i am in trouble even if ten minutes before we were fighting and i was giving him the silent treatment.
This is almost the time for the tenth anniversary of 9/11. I became a man hating Zombie then too, and that time i do not wish to remember, in fact i am a little afraid of what I might do on that day. If I only can remember that was the beginning of my new life, which culminated with me in Scotland with the love of my life, I can get a new perspective, it is time to walk out of the pain, and into the light. Jims love is more real than the silly stuff my kids believe in and think they are in love. It is always being there even when you are needed but resented. It is long nights of worry sleeping next to someone who cant breathe,and worst of all, it is when the one you love most makes you feel like the enemy. It is smiling when you come home to no dinner and someone in bed again. Again , and again.
Jim will be put out that i mentioned him in my blog again. But these things are true, and he can't say them without looking insensitive. He has to be "the man" whilst i get to cry and stamp my feet and moan. And he never asks for sympathy, just a little understanding, before he turns into a zombie too.
Love you baby.
Blessings
I told them to deal with it, but i dealt with it too. Was I scheming? nah i only have 4 followers, and the rest of you i do not know who you are and i assume it changes often. I can't guarantee that any of my kids give me a chance.I just tell my little stories and move on. Zombies fascinates me because i think most people are zombies at one time in their life or another. I know new parents are, they neither eat, shower, or sleep for many weeks.
But the real zombies are the chronically ill who are not dying, per se, but have to live with a body that becomes a stranger to them. Slowly I am becoming someone who can't move very well. I used to have a Nova and everyone said i could go anywhere in 15 minutes because everything i owned fit in my car. Now i must be driven, I cannot work, and i walk around here half-dead waiting for my hubby to return. Some days it hurts to breathe, some days it hurts to think. Some days i think i am the old Brenda again and tear into my chores. My only sense of worth now comes from JIm noticing if i were able to do anything or not today. Poor JIm is tired sometimes and misses something,and I cry and cry. I do not have friends, I take hostages. If you come for a wee visit to cheer me up , i wont let you go, i talk and talk and talk. I think some people are afraid to return. I don't blame them.
Loud large crowds frighten me, and I sit outside at the club, as that buffers some of the noise. I make a lot of noise, but i can't tolerate others doing it. The Zombie rules. The one I pity most is my family because no one realizes it is harder to be the carer than the cared for. I am sure the boys think our bickering is ugly and they want real love in their lives. We bicker to let off steam, it is never about what we are bickering about.JIm has no one to say, sometimes i am so tired and she has an accident and I have to step in. If i fall he has to get me in the ambulance because i will fight it. He has to listen to me beg for a drink when he knows i asked him to restrict my fluids. He has to stand on his head to get me to eat, because i am diabetic and must eat although most of the time i do not wish to. He does most of the shopping now, all of the driving, and the minute he gets in the door I descend upon him for news of the world. Just once i bet he wishes he could have a half hour to himself to chill, then he could start in taking care of things again.
SO, if you are tempted to support someone, give Jim an atta boy, because no one sees the pain of the carer. He must respond when i am in trouble even if ten minutes before we were fighting and i was giving him the silent treatment.
This is almost the time for the tenth anniversary of 9/11. I became a man hating Zombie then too, and that time i do not wish to remember, in fact i am a little afraid of what I might do on that day. If I only can remember that was the beginning of my new life, which culminated with me in Scotland with the love of my life, I can get a new perspective, it is time to walk out of the pain, and into the light. Jims love is more real than the silly stuff my kids believe in and think they are in love. It is always being there even when you are needed but resented. It is long nights of worry sleeping next to someone who cant breathe,and worst of all, it is when the one you love most makes you feel like the enemy. It is smiling when you come home to no dinner and someone in bed again. Again , and again.
Jim will be put out that i mentioned him in my blog again. But these things are true, and he can't say them without looking insensitive. He has to be "the man" whilst i get to cry and stamp my feet and moan. And he never asks for sympathy, just a little understanding, before he turns into a zombie too.
Love you baby.
Blessings
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