in another life
i walked, and did not come back
re-wrote that ending


I have the beginning of a blister on the bottom of my left foot.  Not the heel, as one might expect with new shoes, but the bottom of the foot.  And it pains, slightly, as I walk in slippers or barefoot around the house - reminding me that it's there.

And reminding me of another pain, at the bottom of my foot - more metaphorically.  Lately Bob and I have been arguing about one of the PSWs that come in the morning.  He's a "time firm" meaning that his timeslot is his timeslot, due to him still working.   And we get 5 hours of care/help a week - and I've chosen those five hours to be one hour a day on weekdays, so that I'm not doing his care before heading into work.  And for the first few months, it was going well.

9 months in - there's been some problems.  The first major issue was people calling in sick and the overnight folks not telling us.  That's still a bit of a struggle - made worse by the issue we're continuing to have with one of his folks.

They start at 6.  This one comes anywhere from 6:05 to 6:25.  Bob does not want to complain, because she "gets all her stuff done".  I have two arguments for this.  One, is that I can't leave until she rolls in (since they don't call if someone bails, and I'm never quite sure if it's a late or bail) and it affects my drive and my mental well-being.  And two, these are my caregiver hours.  If she can do everything she needs to do in 30-45 minutes (she leaves early to get to her next appt) - can we drop to 45 minutes and get another day?  Or stay for her whole time and get more stuff done?

Bob doesn't think it's a big deal.  Translated, he doesn't want to rock the boat.  He doesn't want the level of care lowering because he complained.  He's afraid she'll quit or even get fired over it and maybe he won't have anyone that comes at 6 a.m.

And it undoes me like a worm inside my mind, eating away.  We've talked about me "just leaving" and "not worrying about it".  We've talked about him putting on his big boy pants and telling her to show up on time.  He's talked to her about it, gingerly, and she's told him she DOES text me when she's late - this is patently untrue.   We can't even discuss her without fighting.

And like that beginning of a blister, each step reminds me of something growing.

i open my mouth

and close it again, wisely

nothing good to say

Earlier today I was standing at an event and wishing I was not.   I marvelled, as I stood staring out a window, at how much life imitates life.  There is no art - unless you count the ridiculously loud thumping of baseline and a bunch of wannabe hipsters nodding along, which I do not.  There is only life.  Me, somewhere, wishing I was not.

I went for a walk today -  soothing my soul in the woods and listening to birds and the wind through the grass.  That's one of my favourite sounds - wind blowing through the long grass.

sometimes, i think that
the pain in my chest is real
remember to breathe


Another fun new MS symptom.  I shall spare you the details, such as they are, but also tell you that I'm occasionally drowning in despair.  We've hit a few milestones, of late, that were previously on the list of things we'd consider "institutionalizing" Bob for - that are now our new-normal and being worked through.  I'm not advocating for putting my husband, who is not yet 50, in a home - but I'm also becoming low-key-terrified about our future.   It's not his symptoms that terrify, so much as the unanswered questions about his future and what it looks like.  What my future looks like.  How it might all play out.

I had a nightmare last night.  My nightmares aren't all Chucky and Jason - they are real situations with people I interact with, twisted.  Last night's involved someone I'm close to, but had them cast in a bullying role over an issue I'm struggling with Bob over.  I can't be more specific than that - except to say I woke up very confused and wondering why my brain had mixed this person up into a situation he's not involved in, with a sinister tone to his personality.  I tried to figure it out, got a headache, and gave up.

my homemade flat white

drank in, alone in this space

my reality waits.

I was in a meeting yesterday and we had to do a gratitude thing - where we post "one thing we're grateful for" and "one thing we're looking forward to" and I blanked.   Not blanked as in having nothing to look forward to or be grateful for, but blanked as in how I might capture my thoughts succintly on tiny pieces of paper.

Grateful for healthcare programs that keep my husband functioning?  Grateful for good jobs that pay ridiculously high co-pays for medical devices?  Grateful for laughter, because it's all I have left?  Grateful that when I texted friends yesterday that I'm having a nervous breakdown and my family doesn't notice or care that they called and laughed with me until I could walk into work?  Grateful that when I went to the washroom to cry at work no one else was there?

And yes, I could just write "friends" or "my job" or "laughter" - but I was overthinking it - not wanting to be trite about things I'm truly grateful for but not wanting to make others feel bad.  Some people shared "grateful for moonlight on snow" - and I was so freaking jealous that they had the time to notice and had no other pressing demand in their life that it was that they were grateful for.  And then felt bad for my internal dialogue.

I went home last night and was grateful.  Grateful that Bob has me in his life to care for him.  Grateful for my daughter, who helps me with him, and gives me much needed breaks when I need them.  Grateful for her husband, who fits with us and is a helpful, smart, kind man.  Grateful for my son - who showed up with a gift last night because he knows I'm really struggling with my reality.  Grateful for friends, who laugh along with me in a journey that's harder than is fair.   

Grateful that no one at the table pressed me too hard about filling out the paper.

a half marathon
even the word seems too long
what's life without goals?

Out for dinner with friends a few nights ago and we somehow end up talking about running half marathons and the two women of the dinner group - me being one - somehow find ourselves seriously thinking about training for a half.

Knowing full well a quarter would be stretching it - and that an eighth took training for me.  But goals. 

I know I've gained back weight since I was able to run a comfortable 5K.  Things have changed.  Back then, Bob could drive and dress himself and transfer without me.  Things are quite different now and I've taken on a lot more - physically and emotionally - and while my brain is saying "yes!  that would be good for you!" my spirit is saying "fuck, girl, you need sleep not running".   

As an aside, my internal dialogue calls me "girl" when I'm entertaining them and "chubby bitch" when we're discussing weight and exercise issues or internal selfishness issues.  As in "listen, you chubby bitch, you need to exercise".  I was joking while in Africa this summer, and walking 21000 steps a day that my fitbit was sending me messages like, "where dat chubby bitch at?".

I'm not completely sold on the half - but I suspect it would be good for my sense of well being and purpose, and relax me while I train.  I have no expections that I would ever run 22 kilometers or even 10 but I like the idea of pushing myself and clearing my head of everything I'm feeling and facing with Bob's illness.