Tag Archives: dealing with TBI

November TBI 2006: I Can’t do This Anymore

Note from six years later, September 2012. This entry is hard to read for me. The pain still feels so real. I have to remind anyone who reads this, things change, things get better, nothing is static.

Nov. 6th, 2006 | 12:04 am

I think I have reached too far into this unending nightmare. I’m at that magic point where the friends who rushed to man the gates when they heard the terrible news have now evaporated. They have given their all and now they are gone back to their tidy–tidier than mine–lives and I am left so alone and so unable to cope anymore.

Today I was cleaning the garage and rearranging stuff to make room for more stuff. I ran up the garage door and fired up my bike just to hear it run. I sat there on that bike in my pajamas, barefooted and looking out at the pouring rain and it was all I could do to get back off the bike and turn it off.

I want to escape; I want his horrible nightmare to end. I have begun to hate/loathe and despise Terry and his incessant energy sucking drain on me. He cannot be left alone for five seconds. He will be drinking soap or falling down or pulling the clock out of the wall or putting on all the clothes in MY drawers in layers on him which is hilarious but so sad.

He cannot comprehend wait. Today he wanted to go for a walk, I promised him as soon as I got the car unloaded I would put my clothes on and we could go. He has no sense of time or decorum and he came outside in his pajamas with his sweatshirt over his rain coat and wanted to go NOW. He could see I was struggling to unload the car. I asked him to give me just a few minutes and we’d go. I even told him walk to the end of the driveway and COME BACK if you need to move. I looked up and he was gone. I jumped in the car and caught up with him two blocks away, not understanding at all why I was so upset and angry.

He has been impossible today, needy, whining, not able to comprehend anything. I could go into chapter and endless verse but it never changes. I don’t CARE if he is brain damaged. At this point so am I, and there is NO ONE in the fucking universe who can help. I don’t like him, don’t want to be near him or around him and yet I am forced to be kind, gentle, and nurturing nonstop. He goes to bed and gets up every three minutes. Sits up, walks out of the room, you name it.

Today he went into my studio and tried to go into the loft. I blew, I’m ashamed of myself but I absolutely blew sky high. I told him for the 357th time that he had to wait for one of us to help him because he has fallen three times in two days and we want him to have his freedom but he needs to understand he has no sense of balance and no real comprehension of what he is doing. I told him to get out of my studio that it was the last place I had that was my own and that I wanted it that way for my own sanity. I cannot even have a shower alone; I have to shower with him because I can’t leave him for that long. I eat meals by wolfing down leftovers hanging over the sink and listening with one ear. I’m gaining weight because of the way I eat and I hate it..

Corey came to help, bless his heart, but he brought Alex and Terry cannot tolerate barely stimulation of one person let alone a small child. Shayne brings Heather, Penny brings Bob. I need help but I need ONE person and no one understands that and I feel so bad about trying to explain to kind people who want to help. I’m ready to lie down in the rain and just give up.

I’m sure I’ll soldier on tomorrow with all the therapists and the mental health nurses and the doctor appointments and the insurance forms and Terry needing the care of a two year old. I hate my life. I absolutely hate my life. I hate that my husband was so personally irresponsible that he got on a bike at night in the middle of deer country and rode at 70 mph into a deer. I don’t think my marriage is going to survive all this. It’s only four years old and its cracking under the strain. I hate being responsible and not being able to lay down this burden for a single day.

I feel guilty and angry and I hate that I feel guilty about being angry.