The Feelings I Keep Hidden

I don't need to start this story by saying that I am a wife and a carer to the man whom I am married to, because many of you who read my stories already know.

Today, I am going to get real and write about the feelings I keep hidden because shame becomes my silence, as many people I have tried talking to think it's cruel that I should be feeling this way.

Before I begin, I want to make it very clear that I have no intention of behaving recklessly by cheating. Cheating is the most horrid thing you can do to anyone, and I am not that person.

That dreadful year 2020, when my husband caught Covid-19 came as a massive shock to me.

I expected him to be very ill with it.

What I didn't expect was that it would affect all of the disabilities left behind by the childhood brain cancer treatment he had in the past to save his life.

I'm very lucky that I have him today, as he almost died because of that.

I knew about some of these disabilities, such as weakness in his right side that caused some mild balance issues, but I didn't know how bad the pain he was going to endure would become, the horrid tremors that hurt him and cause him to lash out at me at night, the terrible nightmares that terrify him and sometimes also cause him to lash out at me, and cause sleep paralysis.

Nor did I know that the pain was going to last all day and night, and that the tremors were going to affect his whole body, not just his hands.

I had no idea until just before my birthday that my husband could collapse due to fainting, and that he would end up with Concussion because the walls on our landing are so narrow that he couldn't avoid banging his head.

I did not know that even though the professionals knew this could happen, there was nothing they could do to help, and that my husband was going to be made to suffer in a house that he struggles to live in, in pain for the rest of his life, because the council can no longer help us.

I find myself suffering emotionally, after over twenty years of marriage, because my husband can barely touch me.

He is afraid because he knows, if he has a tremor, it will hurt me. He also knows that he can't control his touch, which means he can hurt me without meaning to.

I am exhausted.

I haven't slept properly in months because I am suddenly woken up to a sore back as my husband has uncontrollably lashed out at me, and I have found myself being attacked when he has had nightmares in which he thinks he is getting hurt.

Sure, I manage to squeeze my studies, writing and singing into my days, though not as much as I used to, because I am too busy trying to get the house safe, doing chores or helping my husband to meet his needs.

On top of this, I am trying to manage my own mental health, whilst also trying to balance things out so that my daughter and her children can continue living here safely.

My studies, writing and singing are the things that keep me going through this, so I try to allocate at least an hour in the mornings and afternoons doing them.

I recently signed up for a taster session with The Rock Choir to get me out, meet other singers and keep me going, because I do not get out as much as I'd like to, and I need time to look after my own mental well-being before I break, and end up back in that horrible state I was in, during the 1990s.

On top of that, I have had to force myself into turning the smaller room in my house into a space just for me, so that I can sleep and have somewhere to take care of myself.

If I don't look after my physical and mental health, I won't be in a fit state to look after my husband or myself.

I recently burst into tears on a friend's shoulder.

I told her how I miss the way I used to be touched, and how I miss the days when I could talk intimately with my husband about anything.

I am well aware of the fact that it isn't his fault he can't be as intimate with me as he once was, and I understand it isn't his fault he can't talk to me like he used to.

Nevertheless, I am a real female with real needs, emotions, and feelings. It's difficult going from being deeply intimate, understood and cared for in the way I once knew, to now being barely touched, or being misunderstood most of the time.

It's isolating, exhausting, and mentally draining.

Sometimes I need someone to take care of me and show me the love that I deserve, too.

I need to be able to share the burden, be heard, held, and understood.

Many would argue this out with me, and all too often, I hear,

"Be grateful that your husband is still alive."

I am more grateful than you would understand for that.

After all, we have a shared history together.

A history that I would have never survived, if it hadn't been for him.

I hear that I am a good carer, and I see people approve of what I do.

I don't need approval or to be told how I should do it. I don't need unsolicited advice.

I need someone to listen, understand, be compassionate, and to, talk about my studies, writing, singing, life, have a laugh with me, or even just a friendly hug sometimes.

I'm probably not the first unpaid, family or spouse carer to complain about this, or be in this situation,

But as I have made clear, I am a real human being, with real needs.

I am not just a wife, parent or carer.

I am Carol,

And,

Carol has a need for, love, human interaction, intimacy and compassion just like everybody else does.