Worn out

My hopeful weekend of childless bliss didn’t go quite as planned. My wife is going through a med change so difficult I feel like I’m muddling through the dark as I try to help her. She has been nauseated, sobbing, dizzy, and feels like her synapses are about to fry her brain. I struggle with all of it because it’s usually me who is curled up in a ball crying.

A few months ago, I had the pleasure of meeting Jenny Lawson, better known to the world as The Bloggess. She spoke to those of us with mental illnesses telling us it’s okay if we can’t handle staying through the whole talk. Then she spoke to and thanked those who helped take care of we children of the Isle of Misfit Toys. It’s in these moments, as I try to hold my sweet bride and keep her grounded, that I realise just how much she goes through to keep me safe from myself. I often apologise for being such a burden, but now that the tables have turned, I can see (for now) that it is no burden. Her pain is my pain is her pain. I hate to see her struggle so much, but it’s all in hope that this med will make it better and will help her feel like Sara again and then I can tell her that I understand and that she’s my superhero. 

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