This post is a hard one to write. It’s one I’ve been contemplating writing but I’m unsure if I should. It’s raw and honest. It’s me. And it’s my feelings and perspective. I don’t know if my husband reads my blog on a regular basis, so I don’t know if he’ll see this. But if he does I hope he can understand where I am coming from. As I hope all my readers can. I’m not in any way attacking Hubs. But this is a big part of me and my life…
A little while back I decided to start a series of posts to give me an outlet to talk about what its like to live with a husband who suffers from chronic pain. I only got as far as talking a bit about Hub’s history and I never really talked too much about the impact that has on me.
Hubs struggles a lot with his pains. And often he pushes himself past his physical limits and causes himself more pain. This usually leave me feeling two things. The first is annoyed that I’m 8 months pregnant and picking up the slack while experiencing pains of my own and the second is guilt. Guilt because I’m annoyed, and guilt because I know the reason he pushed himself past his limit is because he was trying to make the kids and I happy.
I struggle with the guilt. A lot. I feel guilty when I wish he was able to do more. I feel guilty when I’m not as sympathetic as maybe I should be. I feel guilty when I’m annoyed that I want to do something and I know he’s in too much pain. I feel guilty that I have thoughts along the lines of ‘I suck up my pains to do this, why can’t you’ when I know that he’s already pushed himself much further then he should.
I feel guilty that I want him to go back to work RIGHT NOW because I’m tired of dealing with his struggles with veterans affairs and long term disability. I’m tired of hearing him complain, I’m tired of feeling like I’m doing it alone even when he’s here. I’m tired of the mood swings, of his drugs leaving him not all here. Mostly I’m tired of feeling selfish and guilty.
Hubs is only really like this maybe 30% of the time. But its exhausting.
I hate seeing him in pain. I hate that nothing is really going to help him. I hate when he tells me that my rubbing his ankles helps when we both know damn well that the only thing its doing is giving me the illusion that I’m actually helping.
I love my husband. Through sickness and health, for better or worse and so on. I hate that he is hurting. I hate that I can’t help. I hate that I have the thoughts I do and I hate that there doesn’t seem to be much support for the spouses that help their loved ones cope with chronic pains. Because, quite frankly, its hard. And I could use the help.
Love, hugs and more to come later