This has been the first week when I’m working an extra afternoon a week. Granted, this week one of those afternoons was a morning , but the principal is the same.
An extra afternoon a week you say? I work nine-to-five, five days a week, every week, what’s your problem? Fair question. For someone dealing with CPTSD, chronic depression and anxiety and extreme exhaustion … an extra afternoon a weeks work becomes a big deal.
So this week I worked an extra half day – one that had me leaving the house before 7:30 in the morning … kind of a tough call if you’ve spent most of the night tossing and turning, between nightmares of past experiences mixed with your present day challenges, repeats of nightmares from your childhood, and painful people spewing horrible words into your current worries…
The little boy I look after had an accident just before I got there on Thursday and had to be taken to an emergency service for stitches. The little sister was distressed and worried all afternoon; too young to verbalise her worries, but knowing her playmate was missing and something was wrong. I spent the afternoon trying to soothe and calm, hug when needed and distract as I could, but knowing I was no real substitute for the family she was missing.
Add in a very poorly husband and all the usual tasks of cooking, shopping, washing up, laundry, bin collections, and sorting time with friends and you have someone who has messed up.
I’ve missed dates with friends – I’ve even completely forgotten some. I haven’t done all the washing up I should have – the dishes are piling up. I know if I don’t do some laundry tomorrow we’ll be out of underwear – I think. I really don’t have the honesty to talk about the fridge; trust me on this – I’m embarrassed!
Next week I hope there will be a husband that isn’t poorly (and hopefully not me either!) and that super-early morning will be an afternoon. Hopefully next week the washing up, laundry and cooking will be more of a natural rhythm – here’s hoping! Maybe next week the nightmares will recede and I won’t have any flashbacks – we can always hope, right?
Until then … until then.
Until then, every action is going to have a cost. Until then, every thought is going to have a battle. Until then, every night is going to be exhausting. Until then every hour is going to have a cost.
Every hour has a cost.