What gets me sometimes is I never applied for this job. I don't ever remember saying ooh yes I'd love to do that. There was no choice. No one is coming along to say thank you either. There will be no annual appraisal with talk of pay rises and promotions.
If you ever see a carer..it may cross your mind that they cope well...perhaps better than you would...luckily they are such a strong person. I have to tell you they are not. It's all fake. Inside they hate it as much as you know you would. No one talks about it you see..how much they hate it.
Cos it's wrong to moan right?
I wish I could be a better carer. I wish I could give up my happiness for his. More self sacrificing, patient, loving, calm..but I'm not sure I'm up to the job. I wish I could keep my marriage vows. But really who would stand in church and say "I agree to stand by you despite you getting a disease that means I no longer recognise you. I will take on all the responsibility because you no longer can. I will watch you whilst you ignore our children because your too tired. I will accept it when you let me down again and again.....and that this will go in and on...with the promise that things will only get worse". Would kind of spoil the mood of the ceremony right?
Inside you see..I'm still a little girl. I want to be back in my parents house, in my bedroom..surrounded by my Wham and Duran Duran posters. Not a care in the world except whether I would get to snog George O'Leary (never did btw).
And at night? At night I dream of handsome princes to whisk me away and take me to a better place...
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