I Don’t Want To Be Admitted Again, I’m Terrified
I’m losing it very quickly. Life is getting to be too hard. No matter what I do or how hard I try to do things right, I do it all wrong.
My husband has been on the third shift and taking classes 5 days a week since August. He’s been on third shift longer, but I have felt the major squeeze for about 3 months. I am done. I am scared.
A couple months ago I wrote about being at the end of my rope because I was doing it all by myself because of his heavy load. Well he read that post and started pitching in and helping me a lot more around the house but it feels like it comes with a cost.
I am stuck in this horrific lose-lose situation. No matter what I do, I still lose.
I decided it was time for me to break away from the house and I felt like that would be a great way for me to regain a sense of myself that was rapidly deteriorating. What a huge mistake.
I did this once before and ended up in the hospital, it was very bad. I had begged my husband for help for months and all of my pleas were dismissed and ignored. The problem here is that it always has to be about depression, or anxiety, or whatever medical term someone wants to slap on it.
For me, it comes down to one simple word: abandoment.
I feel abandoned by my husband. I have once again been pleading with him to go back to first shift. It gives my kids, my marriage, my routine, me, and my husband all a great deal of stability. He had refused for 2 months to submit the request. Why? He doesn’t want to give up his 15% shift diff for working third shift.
He made his choice, money over family. Well screw that! I talked to my p-doc and she brought both of us in (trying to avoid the inevitable and fast approaching need for another hospitalization) and really laid into him.
She made the point very clear, he has to switch his shift. When he is tired and cranky from lack of sleep, I am overwhelmed from the morning and bedtime routines, on top of housework, packing lunches, etc, it is just too much. He has ignored it for too long and I am falling apart.
While he is “pitching in” a lot more by helping with the housework and dinner, there is still so much that I do that he doesn’t see or know that I do. Then things get backed up and he notices and then I get fussed at because he had to do it. Well there are only so many hours in one day unless I don’t sleep. I am not living this way by choice, so I should not have to sacrifice sleep.
So here we are back to square one with all this craziness and I cant cope. The morning and bedtime routines have become so taxing that I have gotten to the point of total dysfunction. So have the kids. He says to them “time for bed” and they don’t even acknowledge that he has said it. Then he comments “I like that my kids listen to me” and it hit me. They don’t take anything serious.
Aha. Well, aha for me – not for him.
Anyway, he finally put the request in for a shift change after a threat from my doctor of “remember last time? Yeah, it’s happening again” and since he cant afford to take off 2-3 weeks of work while I go into the crazy bin, he finally gave in. The problem is it takes his boss two months to acknowledge the request and another two to grant it.
In 9 years my husband has spent 1 year on day shift. The rest of the time he has spent working somewhere between the hours of 1 pm – 8 am, varying constantly. During that year he was home by 4:30 every day my marriage was healthy, my kids were happy, things were in order, he was sleeping good and my mental health was fantastic.
Tonight my daughter made me angry. She is almost 6 and a bed wetter, not an occasional bedwetter this is a nightly thing. She wears pull-ups to bed and I cant get her to stop putting the pull-up on, climbing into bed and peeing in it before she even goes to sleep. What – the – hell?!?!
Finally I got fed up. I hadtold her I will start swatting her rear if I find she’s peeing in her pull-up instead of the potty before she even goes to sleep. I go up to turn her TV off and she starts yelling at me. I walk over and tell her to straighten up (her tantrums are out of control – a whole different blog right there) and notice she has peed, in her freaking pull-up!
I warned her when she put it on to go potty first and not to pee or I was going to swat her. Understandably I held to my end of the promise and tell her to turn over and she doesn’t. I told her if she didn’t I’d swat her where I could, she kicked me and rolled and my hand landed on her bare leg rather than her padded pull-up covered butt.
See I hate this. I hate myself. I hate when I do this. I beg, and beg, and beg for him to help and he doesn’t. He sticks with his shift, refuses to make changes, gets pissy and cranky from his sleep deprivation, the kids go bonkers and I am really REALLY losing my mind.
I wonder how long it will take this time before he has to lock me up for trying to hurt my kids. I’m pleading for help and get none, who is responsible now? Even my doctor is begging him.
I need a good cry.
Dismayed woman photo available from Shutterstock
, B. (2012). I Don’t Want To Be Admitted Again, I’m Terrified. Psych Central. Retrieved on August 28, 2015, from http://blogs.psychcentral.com/bipolar-mom/2012/11/i-dont-want-to-be-admitted-again-im-terrified/