Waking up with this nasty taste in my mouth, I pick myself up from my troubles and write. Feeling better than I have for the last few nights, my mind tires of thoughts of pain and discomfort. The scales of emotion are hopefully turning to a more optimistic frame of mind. But this change often doesn’t comes without it’s cost.
Yesterday was a particularly uncomfortable and embarrassing day. With the unpredictable defecations of a toddler, I had to run errands outside the home. At least in town I have the security of my daughter’s home to escape to if needed. So off I went. Thankfully, my errands were quick and without incident. The regretful part did not come till later in the evening.
As evening approached my sugar was getting a little low. Dinner included me dicing fresh vegetables and preparations included number of steps. My bride unable to handle most complicated task due to her condition, left the cutting and preliminary steps up to me. Normally this is just an everyday thing. But after the stress of the day and my rising physical anxiety, I exploded.
My wife was getting frustrated with my more than apparent critical tone. This in turn infuriated me. Causing me to scream out a series of unfortunate expletives I sorely regretted saying after closing my mouth. This left my wife in tears and me feeling like a pile of… you know. We finished dinner silently and separately, letting the moment pass.
As a caregiver I am held to a certain standard. To the point that my emotions have to be kept in check. Once my temper starts to flare, I usually have to go into safe mode and bury my feelings deep within. With no real outlet other than an occasional text to a long-distance friend. I am left alone to deal with my fallible humanity.
Why I’m writing any of this is unclear. On social media we hide behind a curtain of strength and happiness. Yet on the inside we all have our fears, our anger, and our regrets. Me and my wife are okay now, but the damage was done. The Saint of Lucille Avenue has once again been proven to be no more than a sinner. But what can you do? Other apologize and ask forgiveness. Of those you hurt and of yourself.
Yesterday was a particularly uncomfortable and embarrassing day. With the unpredictable defecations of a toddler, I had to run errands outside the home. At least in town I have the security of my daughter’s home to escape to if needed. So off I went. Thankfully, my errands were quick and without incident. The regretful part did not come till later in the evening.
As evening approached my sugar was getting a little low. Dinner included me dicing fresh vegetables and preparations included number of steps. My bride unable to handle most complicated task due to her condition, left the cutting and preliminary steps up to me. Normally this is just an everyday thing. But after the stress of the day and my rising physical anxiety, I exploded.
My wife was getting frustrated with my more than apparent critical tone. This in turn infuriated me. Causing me to scream out a series of unfortunate expletives I sorely regretted saying after closing my mouth. This left my wife in tears and me feeling like a pile of… you know. We finished dinner silently and separately, letting the moment pass.
As a caregiver I am held to a certain standard. To the point that my emotions have to be kept in check. Once my temper starts to flare, I usually have to go into safe mode and bury my feelings deep within. With no real outlet other than an occasional text to a long-distance friend. I am left alone to deal with my fallible humanity.
Why I’m writing any of this is unclear. On social media we hide behind a curtain of strength and happiness. Yet on the inside we all have our fears, our anger, and our regrets. Me and my wife are okay now, but the damage was done. The Saint of Lucille Avenue has once again been proven to be no more than a sinner. But what can you do? Other apologize and ask forgiveness. Of those you hurt and of yourself.
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