Chronic illness takes its toll, not just on the person who’s sick but on their family, their friends, everyone around them. I know that and I’ve seen how well (or badly) both friends and family have weathered that storm. All I knew is that as long as I had my husband, my rock, I could get through anything.
He told me we’d fight this. He’s done his best to take care of me, since I can’t do a lot of things for myself anymore. Even things as simple as opening a bottle of water or buttoning buttons. My pain and inflammation are too much to cope some days. He stood by me when a lot of other people wouldn’t. We’ve spent seven years hunting and pecking with my rheumatologist on a way to get my pain managed, but we haven’t found anything that works yet. Still, we’d get through this together, right?
Yesterday, he told me he “needed space.” Yesterday, he told me that he’s “changing” and that he doesn’t know what that means for him or for us. I … still can’t even process that. I’m so unbelievably hurt by it and terrified of what it may mean for our future. I’m guilt-ridden that this is all my fault. That my illness and my dependence on him have taken their toll and he’s finally gotten fed up.
This isn’t the life I wanted for either of us. I don’t have the means to move out on my own and I have nowhere else to go. I don’t know what to do. I feel so lost and alone.
Loading comments...