I have told you all before my grandfather is at deaths door. Well all measures that can be made, have been made and are done. No more given. Any life sustaining options shut down. A morphine drip added into his arm. His only real connection to this world. They call it comfort care, I call it get yourself ready for a funeral time. And I hate it.
I actually hate it so much I could puke. He is sick. Horribly violently sick even with comfort care. So why the hell do they call it that? And how do I handle all of this when I start a new job? Start the last year of my Masters Education next week? To say I am life overwhelmed is an understatement.
And leaving my girls to work full time has been especially hard and way more emotional than I ever could have predicted. I am shocked it hit me as hard as it did. I mean I have worked the last two years. But now I leave when they do and I don’t get home till 5:30 really. I miss them, I feel detached from them. I have wanted them to sleep with me every night for the last week.
Oh and then there is more….it is the first of the year which means #2 and her issues are at an all time high. Two days this week I had to physically make her go to school. Through no fault of anyone, or any situation. It was merely her issues. I know this. But her way of coping. Blaming me. Why do I leave her? All she really wants is me there. That part of her doesn’t understand this job gives me the ability to get her 75 sessions of therapy if she needs them versus the 10 with our previous insurance. It also gives me more cash in my pocket to help her. Instead what she is seeing is her life changing so fast she can’t handle it. I feel that way sometimes too! So I hug her a little tighter and pray a little harder.
It has to get easier I know. But when in the midst of it, it feels like so much.