Battle Weary

I. Am. Tired.

I’m under the weather so I’m extra tired physically, but that’s not the kind of tired I’m talking about. I am emotionally and mentally drained. I had my meltdown from all the stress and now all that’s left after purging all the thing I shoved down to keep it together/look calm to the kiddo is exhaustion. Pure exhaustion.

I frequently have to fight for things I shouldn’t have to. Oh, there’s a fracture in her back. Ok. So the radiologist sees it, and the doc reports that to you and treats it, right? Nope. The doctor got his information mixed up, and “decided it wasn’t real” because the reported fracture wasn’t on her first set of back films. Well that would make sense since she didn’t injure herself until after the first round was taken. The first round was for an entirely different reason. So two months post injury, we finally find out there is a fracture and correct his thinking, but only because I saw the report finally for myself. True story.

That’s just one of a million examples of having to fight with, and micromanage (in the form of seeing every report for myself, images for myself, etc.) to get her the care she needs. Some things I can see, like when we have to make the insurance cover something they’d rather not. Others, not so much. I shouldn’t have to fight for basic things. But I do.

Keeping up with everything they’re doing (or not doing), the research, her appointments, meds, med times, symptoms, school work, etc. is just exhausting. I can’t show it though. Because she already feels like she’s a burden. That just broke my heart. I WANT to take care of her. I WANT to do everything I can for her. I just wish people didn’t make it harder than it has to be. Simple things should be simple. Basics shouldn’t be begged  for. But then again, people shouldn’t be starving or our country’s youth dying in its streets. So in the grand scheme of things, I get that it may be small. But when you’re balancing that with a full-time job, chores, errands, etc. it’s just too much some days.

Ever since things really blew up with her illnesses, about three years ago, I regularly cry in the bathtub. Nobody would think anything of a wet, red face coming out of the shower or tub. So I let it out where it won’t make her feel worse or add to anyone else’s stress. I started this blog as an outlet, though I don’t have time to write as much as I’d like. I’m trying to make time for music and fires and things that make me happy to balance out the rest. But I’m worn out. I have no patience for issues that shouldn’t be an issue anymore.

Even at work, my supervisor creates problems where none exists. He comes charging in like a lion when he thinks you’re not responding to him, doing something wrong, etc. Then he’s out like a lamb and sweeter than honey when he realizes he’s just a jackass. Well, I realize he’s a jackass. He probably just realizes he made a mistake.

He leaves the interaction satisfied, but I’m still there bristling at his asshole behavior because I don’t possess the same Jekyll/Hyde abilities and it takes me a minute to stop fantasizing about putting him into a giant whack-a-mole. Because he has, once again, created a problem where there was none. All he has ever had to do is ask me about something, but apparently that particular skill eludes him, so day after day I’m putting out non-existent fires while also working with our customers. And I do a damn good job at both. Balancing all of that at work, with everything at home, though, is just tiring.

So what to do? Because I feel like I’m at a breaking point. I’ve been feeling like I’m at a breaking point. I have to take care of me so that I can take care of my family. Some fights I can’t do anything about. I can only fight them as they come up. Others I can. Those, I am no longer willing to fight. Hell, I’m no longer able to fight them. So I won’t. Not anymore.

 

 

 

 

 

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