TheBanyanTree: Dealing with the ill (from Monique)

[WolfSinger]

It’s overwhelming sometimes, it’s hard and it’s painful and it’s just 
too much and I don’t think I can bear it yet another day, but I have 
to, there aren’t any options.  

When someone close to me is in pain and they aren’t even sure why, I 
feel such pain at my inability to help, and when that someone is my 
husband, though separated, and dependent on me for work and income, it 
can be overwhelming.  

My bills are past due. My creditors are hounding me. Stew can’t work, 
except minimally, and that for a client who can’t afford to pay us, but 
he has an immense crush on her and will do anything she asks. That in 
itself doesn’t bother me, but what I really need is money. His other 
client, the computer store, he’s waiting and waiting and waiting for me 
to take charge of, to tell him what to do, to lay the groundwork, to 
instruct and get him going and keep him moving, and even though I tell 
him how to start, where to begin, he keeps waiting for me to do more. 
Even his client, the one he’s infatuated with, he needs to be taught 
how to do things that he wasn’t doing right, and my time is so severely 
limited right now. The rest of the clients and the marketing are my 
responsibility – the setups, the weekly service, the taxes, the monthly 
and quarterly service, the questions questions questions, those are all 
mine, and it’s almost April 15th. When I ask him to research something 
for me I’m lucky if he even remembers I asked him, even though I did it 
by email. Rarely do I get answers.  

And he’s in pain and doesn’t know why, and there’s not much I can do 
except offer support and offer support and offer support, and sometimes 
my support is tapped out. He gets his disability, he gets money from 
his parents, he is supposed to get 30% of what the business brings in – 
and I try to make do with what I can. My credit cards are tapped out, 
my bank account is empty, and my car payment is due today, and I’ve 
only paid 1/3 of it. All I have is myself, and while it’s true he does 
help me out by doing personal stuff for me that I don’t have time for 
when I’m really busy, it’s sometimes not enough.  

My car is a big deal, because without it I can’t work. I travel every 
day to see clients, and since they’re scattered around the area north 
and to the east of Seattle, a car is really the only way to do it.  

So I worry about losing my car, my apartment, my utilities, my phone. 
My phone is vital to my work too of course.  

And I worry about him, and if he’s going to hurt himself again. He cut 
again the other day. His therapist was quite annoyed with him, but I’ve 
taken the attitude that, “Aw, geez, dude, that’s too bad you felt you 
had to do that – did it help?” And if it helped alleviate the pain, 
even a little, I say, “Well, I’m glad it helped anyway,” and it’s no 
big deal. After all, people do worse things to themselves all the time 
than slice their arm and hand with a razor blade, right?  

Mental illness is a pain in the ass. It’s isolating – for both of us. 
He feels isolated of course, because no one can understand what he’s 
going through and he feels so alone. I feel isolated because, well, I 
must be constantly cheerful and upbeat for him at risk of making him 
feel really bad if I’m not because he takes things so personally, and I 
feel like I’m out here fighting a battle by myself. We separated for 
several reasons, all of them still valid, still good reasons. Still 
present reasons, and that won’t change. Still I feel an obligation to 
help him as much as I can because he is important to me as a friend, if 
not a husband.  

I’m tired. I’m very tired. He is constantly tired – his regimen of meds 
includes anti-psychotics and anti-depressants, anti-anxiety, and who 
knows what else. A three-month supply of all of them costs, with 
insurance, $1200. His meds make him tired and keep him perpetually 
sleepy. He manages to get to the gym and work out though, sometimes, I 
think perhaps selfishly, at the expense of work. His illness makes him 
anxious, sad, and depressed.  

I feel like I have a dependent I’m responsible for – a dependent who, 
after offered suggestions, will then disregard them entirely and keep 
himself down because it’s easier. He is, after all, an adult, and not 
subject to anything I suggest. I’m tired, and I have to guard against 
falling into depression myself at the enormity of what I’m facing.  

Orvis asked me last night if I saw light at the end of the tunnel, and 
I said yes, I did. I do see it, though sometimes, like today, I wonder 
if I have the strength to get there from here.  

Batman