I sense my emotional closet shutting as I feel a little guilty writing my most carnal thoughts in this blog. Fear that someone will read them and I will be "found out".
And yet the conflict of wanting them to be read so I can illicit understanding are ever present.
I have toyed with the idea of submitting these posts to some sort of MS caregiver support group. Maybe others feel the same way and they would gain comfort in knowing they are not alone but I don't know.
Demands.
Do I have the right to make any? To have any expectations in this relationship?
I mean, I should, shouldn't I?
It's like
being poor.
Just because you're poor doesn't mean you have to be messy.
I remember after hurricane Katrina, the pictures down south with the trash all over the place. It never made sense to me. Just because you lost everything does that mean you should stop using garbage cans? Some of those people were living in filth.
Well, so my husband is disabled? Does that mean he should stop showing me love? That we should just live together as two roommates, where I do the bulk of the work and have no emotional or physical relationship for my investment in this marriage?
It beguiles the mind.
I'm poor
I'm starving.
I'm alone.
I'm ok.
But it would be nice to have more.
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