Not a word I use often, but I think apt. For I feel so many different emotions at once. Well, actually, not at once, more sequentially but it goes something like this:
Moderately happy, furious, sad, absolutely fine, really fricking pissed off, sad, tired, fed up, quite happy, furious….
I’ve just been interrupted by our daughter, who should have been asleep two hours ago. She’s in a state, convinced herself she’s ill, and it’s apparent that she isn’t, she’s just really worried about her dad. I admit I was annoyed when she opened the door to the study and I really wish I’d just hugged her first but I really didn’t realise how upset she was (she has form for coming downstairs with rubbish excuses – bad thoughts, strange noises in her room, unbrushed hair).
Lots of hugs and reassurances and she’s gone back to bed and while I can’t help but dwell on how grumpy she’s going to be tomorrow, her distress illustrates how much pressure we are all under.
The guilt of what he’s putting us through adds to his low state and it’s tearing him up inside. He’s spending 23 hours a day in our bedroom as he simply cannot be around anyone. He came downstairs earlier and beyond saying hello to the kids, said NOTHING nice at all. Everything that came out of his mouth was a complaint, or rude. So I kindly pointed out that yes, he probably should just stay upstairs.
Well I didn’t do it kindly, it was more snide. More unkind than snide actually but just when I think that he’s not that bad, he comes downstairs and manages to totally piss me off immediately. And yes, I KNOW IT’S NOT HIS FAULT but it certainly isn’t entirely my fault that his presence sends me wishing we had an extensively stocked bar.
Anyway, the last thing I said to him tonight was that I was calling an ambulance for him if he said anything else along the lines of ‘It would be better if I wasn’t here’. Not that he’d get in the bloody ambulance.