Through the eyes of a carer for someone with a mental illness

Every night on my way home…


lunamoonI stand and look into the dark, night Sky, the street lights glistening, doctors, nurses and various other staff members coming and going, people of all ages going into accident and emergency and others coming out, with a variety of injuries. There are people making phone calls to relatives:

‘She had a boy, mum and baby doing well… No not weighed him yet but it was just amazing, the best thing I have ever seen, I am so proud of her…’

There are those who come out looking upset, one lady was in tears, I asked if she was ok, she replied yes before someone came by in a car and picked her up. My face is cold and my hands even colder, I am standing against a wall, a wall that makes up the main entrance of the hospital. As I stand there and wait for my taxi home, all sorts of things fill my mind, I have been doing this for over nine weeks now, rarely missing a day, and all I felt today was numb, so sad that nine weeks on and I still almost don’t recognise the person I couldn’t imagine spending my life without.

As I stared into the night sky, becoming less aware of what is around me, I take in the reality that what I thought might have been a small setback is actually quite deterioration in Chris. He rarely spoke to me anymore, the conversation mainly came from me, getting only a few words here and there from him, it was obviously taking everything for him just to concentrate on what I was saying without having to respond as well. His eyes, I can tell so much from looking into his eyes yet every time I do at the moment, it makes me want to cry. I am used to dealing with him mentally unwell but all the physical side of things is really new to me, even more so if the two are combined. I miss him, I miss cuddling up with him in bed, watching tv with him on the sofa, getting his medication out for him, taking him to appointments, I even miss the hours I used to spend getting him up in the morning, I just miss him being here, the company. Even worse, I don’t know when I will get that back again.

My phone started to ring, I was pulled out of my own thoughts, what for a moment was just my own world, my taxi pulled up and I got in, now so well known that I didn’t need to tell them where I was going. After varying questions about why I was there at the hospital, work, visiting and various others while I looked into the dark sky, the taxi pulled up outside my house. After paying my fare and wishing him a good night I closed the door and walked away, one last look into the sky, one last moment of being on my own before I enter my house and prepare to do it all again tomorrow…


Author: acarerseyes

I am a mum to four gorgeous girls, and a carer to my former partner of eight years, Chris who has a mental illness, BPD. I blog my experiences.. life is tough! We live in Greater Manchester, UK.

4 thoughts on “Every night on my way home…

  1. I just have to say, this is beautifully written (and observed).

    Have courage. I found hospital admissions a long hard slog – my daughter went through long disorienting periods when I could barely recognise her. The patient the ward staff know doesn’t seem to be the same person you know. It sounds as if Chris is having a really bad time in there, and it must affect him badly feeling that they aren’t listening to concerns about his physical state. At least he has you, remembering what he was like outside the hospital, and how you were together as a couple.

  2. I feel an ache for you. My husband is going through the ‘cancer thing’ and has for the last year. Waiting for results of various tests. Setbacks. Good days. Horrible ones. Tension. Emotional distance. BUT we are there for them. Any strength I have I send to you.

    • Hey Jules! All I can say is WOW! Ditto, ditto. I thought I had written it. Bad night last night. Not much sleep and another day of not knowing. I send you positive thoughts, as many as I have.

  3. Has he been checked for type 1 diabetes? His symptoms are very concerning, please continue to press for answers.

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