"It's not your fault"

I've got Mr Kittycat lying next to my chair.  He is so cute. 

I slept OK last night but woke up very tired.  I would say I am disabled, not because I have brain damage and severe mental illness, but because the medication I take for it makes me so very tired.  The cure is nearly as bad as the disease. 

I reset my alarm for an hour later, skipping my God Time, and slept in with Biscuit.  Then I got up, brushed my teeth, and fed him. 

I got ready for work, got Ron ready for work, and we left for the warehouse.  Ron was very surly today, complaining a lot about God being "slow" and needing to "hurry up".  It was exhausting. 

I got my stuff, and his, Jack came, and we went to work.  I brought out the new carts.  The new carts worked pretty well except the Coke made the one cart too heavy.  Several cases of cans, plus several cases of bottles, proved to be a little too much for navigating through doors. 

But I plan to keep my original metal cart, which has worked well for that in the past.  I will have a total of 4 carts, and will keep one on top of the sodas. 

I got it all in.  Now I had 5 carts full of stuff and only room for 3.  I had to unload the two new carts and pile everything up on my "first" carts.  Ron was still in a surly mood but gradually improved. 

We finished up and came home.  I took a nap, I was pretty tired from all the manual labor, and I was working on a headache. 

Biscuit got in bed with me.  I had a pretty good nap but I was cold, Ron had the A/C colder than I like.  I was just under a sheet, so I got a little chilled.  But I wasn't miserable enough to get up and adjust the thermostat. 

My alarm went off and I got up, got ready to go.  Ron wanted to go out for burgers.  So, we went. 

Ron was cranky again, said his back was bothering him, and genuinely seemed in a lot of pain.  If I had put my blood pressure cuff on him I'm sure it would have been elevated.  He needs something for pain, I don't know what, but what he's currently doing is not working.  I hate to see him in pain, and the worst part is, when I get overwhelmed I get angry at him for hurting so much.  It's not like he can stop it, but I want him to, and it's awful.  But it's a self-defense thing - get angry at him because I can't stop it. 

And so goes the path of caregiver burnout.  I imagine, at least.  It's like I told a customer today, his back was already a mess before the accident. 

I still remain amazed he did not break his back in the accident.  The impact of a full sized pickup truck to his legs and torso, lung damage, kidney damage, busted artery in his chest, but his back was not broken.  That's got to be God. 

Some will get angry at this, but God does that sometimes, yes to this, no to that.  You will suffer but only so much.  And of course God is with us through it, and has enabled, in Ron's case, doctors and pharmaceutical companies to create good medications that help.  That applies to me, also. 

I had to suffer unmedicated, for 32 years, but I was "given" good medication that works (even if it makes me tired all the time) on my symptoms now.  Why is it that I always want to spell "symptoms" as "sumptoms"? 

So we went to dinner.  Ron felt pressured because we "only" had an hour.  He kept trying to rush things.  I ate my salad, and my burger, took my pills and gave Ron his multivitamin. 

The meal went OK until I told Ron a man had come in with a service dog.  Ron loves service dogs.  Obviously we aren't getting one, things are too hectic and Ron is not active enough to merit a service dog.  I would also have to care for it's physical needs and I can barely take care of the litter boxes. 

Anyway, Ron kept bothering me to take him over to the "parent" and I wouldn't do it.  It was clear to me the dog was an ESA - emotional support dog, and the "parent" had some odd body language that indicated "don't poke at me".  Ron said he wanted to tell him about paratransit, and kept agitating me. 

I finally told him the guy could drive, he had another disability (not blind), was eating, engaged in a conversation, and would not appreciate being bothered.  Ron pouted, but let me take him outside. 

That's when I told him the guy probably had a psychiatric disability.  Ron finally left it alone, after making a crack, directed at me, about "crazy people". 

People fail to understand it does not bother me to be "insulted" with the title of crazy, told I am disturbed, whatever.  Because I am.  That's like calling me 5 foot 7 or someone who wears glasses.  Yes, I am, it is a part of me, so what? 

About the only thing that bothers me is when someone says I don't need my medication or implies I am some sort of addict getting my fix every Pill Time.  That upsets me.  The rest - pbbbbht. 

It had rained while we were eating, but it passed.  Thank God.  It was nice and dry for the ride home. 

We got home, I got Ron in the house.  He is pretty much incapable of getting into the house on his own.  So I do it. 

If something happened to me, Ron is screwed.  So are the cats. 

Anyway, I got him in, put his leftovers in the fridge, and went to check the mail.  I couldn't get the key to turn in the lock, the maillady pushed the talking books up against the lock and now it won't turn.  So I can't get the box open.  I will try shoving a knife in through the bottom tomorrow, and some other things, but it's aggravating, and I don't want to break my key. 

So I came back and told Ron I couldn't get it.  "It's not your fault" he said. 

He says that a lot, in a way that always sounds like he does think it's my fault.  I hate it when he does that.  I tried to call my parents, but my abuser's son is visiting so they are focused on him.  I also believe my abuser is there as well. 

I have some scars on my body from that man.  He was not a nice kid/teen.  Whatever you say about Ron he wasn't sadistic like that.   Thank God they didn't pick up and try to make me talk to him. 

So I got on the computer, listened to a little music, worked on the blog, worked on pretreating laundry.  I have quite a mountain of laundry to wash.  I will get it tomorrow. 

Tonight is litter box night.  I definitely need to get them.