He's got a classic car that he has been lovingly restoring for the past 20 years or so. It is the second love of his life, he tells me. He doesn't feel well enough to even take it out for a spin around the block, not to mention getting it to the shop again for some (more) restoration work.
I've been working to get him to accept that our romantic relationship is over. I told him so in so many words a bit ago, just as I have several times over the past few years. Each time, this seemed to be a surprise to him. Sigh. I'm guessing he just doesn't remember our conversations, is in denial, or hoping I'll change my mind/heart.
Finally, I've come to the realization that I don't like being home anymore...in retrospect, this seems obvious, but I finally named it and claimed it. When H is up, I don't like dealing with him or his noisy pet or his blaring TV shows or his incessant repetitive questions and statements. When he is asleep, I fantasize/worry about what my life will be like when he is gone, and I hope that he goes soon.
And finally, finally, I am able to catch myself in conversation and respond with more patience and kindness than I thought I had. I keep saying to myself, "You've got a kid now…respond in kind."
All of this points to a few
* My identity is H's caregiver (and partner) and little else
* I am feeling lost as I struggle to move past this identity and I worry about how lost I will feel when he is gone
* I am often profoundly tired and I understand why people just give up and walk away
But, push the rock up the hill again, I must.
1 comment:
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