acarerseyes

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

One visit, two journeys: one physical, one of emotion

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rainbow blogRaindrops fell onto my face masking the tears from my eyes as I walked to the main entrance of the hospital. It was cold, dark and very windy, I looked into the sky but it was covered by clouds, once again I felt such a tiny insignificant person in what is a huge world. Visiting was finished, another really difficult day was over and I was well aware that tomorrow wouldn’t be much different. Trying to blink my tears away was proving pretty pointless as my face was so wet from the rain, just a few more paces and I would be inside the main hospital. I had left Chris upset, tired, drained and scared, scared because everything is uncertain, there are so many things that could and couldn’t happen that it is almost pointless thinking about them, which is so much easier to say than do. Nothing I can say to Chris at the moment can possibly make him feel any better or take away his pain, all I can think of now I am gone is how much I wish to just sit and hold him, because what else can I do?

I walk up the stairs, there is no one around, my shoes squeak slightly, the wet rubber meeting the shiny cold steps, all I can think about is Chris, was he ok now I had gone? How will he be tomorrow when I see him again? What might happen over the next few days? I try and block it out of my mind and concentrate on getting home but it is too much, Chris has been a huge part of my life now for over eight years, what if he is practically removed from it for a year maybe more? So many questions yet there are no answers. I pull the door open once I reach the first floor, it squeaks slightly, each time managing to make me jump. The long corridor was empty, there was no one around, I could see right down to the other end where the corridor takes a slight bend. Half way along is where the main entrance is situated and that was the turn I would take before booking my taxi home.

I stood inside the main doors, the rain was bouncing off the floor outside, there were a couple of other people waiting for lifts, all keeping out of the pouring rain. I rang and booked my taxi, getting the usual response of ‘on its way, will be a few minutes’ I tucked my phone back into my pocket and stood, my mind drifting back off into a world of its own. Would Chris get the funding for one of these units? Would he be coming home? Would he be around for Christmas? All questions flashing through my mind but not one I could answer. One of his biggest concerns at the moment is our fifteen month old daughter, Cora, forgetting who he is, not knowing her own Daddy. My heart breaks into pieces when I have sat with him, seeing him cry, I cannot say anything to lessen the pain he feels, no matter how many times I tell him I wouldn’t let her forget who he is, he cannot see it or doesn’t believe me. This hurts, it brings with it more worry for me, will Cora be able to bond with her dad when he gets home? Will she be affected by missing out on the early bonding? Will she have a different relationship with him than the other girls because she missed that? Yeah I know I shouldn’t really think about any of this, I cannot change it, it is hard.

My phone rings, just once, my taxi is outside, I navigate the raindrops to the car where a familiar face greets me and asks how I am, I always reply with the same thing, ‘Ok thanks, you?’ but really am I ok? It is so much easier to be ok, I have my brave face back on, the pain inside won’t change but it is to an extent easy to push it away to enable me to go home and be ‘ok’ again for the girls. The journey home is silent, before I know it we have pulled up outside my house, I pay my fare and run, once again navigating the raindrops, trying not to slip on the wet leaves on the ground. I knock on the door and am greeted by the familiar face of my father-in-law, I look ok, and you wouldn’t have known I had been crying, anything else can be passed off as tiredness. Once he has gone home anything I had planned is left undone, I turn off the lights, lock up the house and make my way to bed, and the only peace I get is when I am asleep.  As I drift off I wonder what kind of life lays in front of me and how much more heartache I will feel, the last tear hits my pillow, I am now asleep.

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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.

2 thoughts on “One visit, two journeys: one physical, one of emotion

  1. You write so well. I cannot imagine how you are dealing with all of this. My heart hurts for you and the children and Chris! 😢

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