Go to Butlins!

As weeks go, this has been quite a week. Hubbie was away with a friend at the weekend, and I managed to have a couple of nice days out. But in fact that weekend was bittersweet as it also served as a stark reminder of how little my daily life has become.

One Buddhist teaching urges us to not want things to be other than they are. But who in their right mind would want things to be like this?! Another teaching tells us not to hold on too tightly to pleasurable things, because ultimately they are impermanent and unsatisfactory. But as an unpaid carer you have such rare glimpses of these things that it's hard not to want to hold on just that little bit longer, to crave just a little bit more. Please.

For the first time ever, I had a sense of not wanting to carry on. I don't mean that in any deep dark way, I just wanted to opt out of this role, for it all to miraculously disappear. And then I decided to ask for help.

Some people have a natural knack of making you feel at ease, helping you feel understood. The mental health nurse at my doctor's surgery really saw me (even though we were talking on the phone). She could see me in a way that I can't see myself. She said that I deserve a life, too. Fancy that!

She also said I should go to Butlins.

Go to Butlins is my new mantra! I probably won't actually "go to Butlins" but I'll keep this simple phrase close to my heart. The nurse also said that I need to tell social services I'm at risk of carer burnout. That I'm physically and emotionally exhausted. That I need respite care to be put in place. That I can't carry on like this. That I'm at breaking point.

I'm still reeling from that, to be honest. I've internalised and normalised what I do; hubbie's deterioration is so insidious that it just creeps up on you. But I need to do something before I break, because who's going to put me back together? So, as an act of self-care, I might just go to Butlins.