Hooray! After a few years, I am finally considered as a caregiver. Honestly, the stipend is way below my list of happiness (though it helps the family) but to be considered a caregiver and that title gives me more confidence. Doesn't it, military wives?
It's not shown physically but I'm battered, abused and ultimately used as a rag. When we were newlyweds (2007) we moved to the apartment where I used to work in. This gave me peace of mind because he normally gets bad nightmares. He works graveyard so sleeping in the morning worries me. Eventually, our apartment moved closer to the leasing office so I can run if I have to. My dog barking is an indication something is wrong or ultimately someone is trying to break into our home.
That life ended. I was unemployed and it took a great toll on the both of us. We found a new sunny apartment but eventually, my job has been farther away. At one point, I was driving around the Bay Area for an assignment or two. My worried head wanders and most of the time my job ends - because I can't focus.
Finally, I found a job that's 5 minutes away. But the 30-minute breaks just is not enough to get home, walk dog, check on sleeping husband, eat and go back. Nowadays, I've taken two jobs to survive. With the two jobs, I feel that I'm never there anymore. But if I give up one or the other, we lose our apartment.
Husband still works but is cut down in two days a week (weekend days). Even that, he can't hold together. He constantly gets bad suicidal thoughts and high levels of anxiety that even three Diazepams could not calm his nerves.
And I really think I'm mean to him. I think it's because he pauses on almost all phrases and thoughts he has when he's talking. I heard that with TBI, these things may happen. He's considered for TBI testing but he procrastinates and is glued to his couch 24/7. Literally. If only I can add a catheter on him, he will never leave that couch.
Before we got married, I wondered why I took the occasional "beatings." He would annoyingly call me after 7PM when I'm still at work. He will blatantly tell me my hour of work is done and I should be walking to my car already and driving back home. I don't even live in his home. I had my own rented room for crying out loud!
I stopped hanging out with friends. He would call me every 2 minutes to ask me what time I'll come home.
Talk about Hyper-Vigilance.
Yes, I feel battered. No social life. No connection to family. No respid. No Me time. And writing this blog was the best Me Time I could ever have.
But then again, complaining like this means I'm being mean to the one who risked his life to save his country.
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