It's fair to say I hit a brick wall this week. I didn't know I was even approaching it until it was right in front of my face and BOOM. Tears. Lots of tears. And mental/emotional shut down. And talking. And release. And renewal.
To explain exactly what happened and where my head was at, I'd need to write a book, so I'll try and sum things up.
Basically, I have been putting immense pressure on myself, convincing myself that I need to be everything for everyone, while Lauriel is undergoing treatment. I have this huge fear of letting her down. Of letting the kids down. Of letting Lauriel's parents down. Of letting myself down. Mainly of letting Lauriel down.
Time for a bit of background: My mental health was shit when I moved up here, and as such, Lauriel had to care for me. She took on far more than anyone should have to take on - I essentially became a fifth child. And that just became our normal, to the point that it didn't occur to me how much she had to take on.
For the past year I have been in a really good place with my mental health - but that has made me realise that my brain doesn't work 'normally'. Lots of research, online quizzes, talking to others and reading books led me to the realisation that I quite likely have ADHD and am on the ASD spectrum. I have an unofficially-official diagnosis of ADHD from the psychiatrist who works in conjunction with the GP clinic we attend (to be officially diagnosed is going to mean $1000+), as for ASD I know I am on the spectrum, but being able to afford a diagnosis is a long way off, so for now I am self-diagnosed.
Part of how ASD presents for me, is that my natural state is 'the world revolves around me'. I don't take into consideration how other people feel or what they're going through. Not because I don't care, just because it doesn't occur to me that I should be. It's odd, because I consider myself a caring person. I guess I care in my own way. It's hard to explain, and like I said, it'd take a book to do so. So I'm leaving this here.
Things came to a head on Wednesday when Lauriel took me to the beach because I'd been crying all morning. I cried more. I did my usual me-me-me thing... and then Lauriel told me (quite rightly so) that I have turned this whole cancer 'thing' into being about me. And I have. Unintentionally, I have. I wasn't upset when she said that to me, it was a light bulb moment, the kick in the ass I needed.
And then it all came out.
I am scared.
I don't want to let her down.
I don't want to let her parents down.
I don't want to let the kids down.
I don't want to let my family down.
I don't want people to think I've failed.
I don't want to feel like I've failed her.
I'm scared of failing.
I'm scared of not being enough.
I'm scared of not being the support she needs.
"The best way you can support me, is to look after yourself."
That was what Lauriel said to me. And that hit home. She was right. I was so worried about everyone else, that I hadn't thought about myself (and yeah, that goes against my self-centeredness). How can I possibly be there to support Lauriel if I am mentally and emotionally exhausted myself?
I cannot do everything. Now, more than ever, I need to remember it is okay to accept help. And it is okay to ask for help.
Part of what got me so wound up and caused me to explode, was the idea that I have no control over this situation. And in my mind, the only way I could have any control, was to be with Lauriel 24/7 through this journey, ultimately meaning I would go to every single treatment with her. Five days a week I would drive her to and from Palmerston North for her few minutes treatment. And that was really what set me off - Lauriel telling me that it would be best if I just went to treatment with her on Tuesdays, when her weekly specialist visit would also happen.
My brain translated that to "I don't want you with me", which it then concentrated into "I don't need you", which then became a thick syrupy "I don't love you".
I told her this and she looked at me like I was nuts. (... not an inaccurate interpretation on her behalf).
Then, she proved my self-centeredness.
"The kids need you too".
Oh. Yeah. The kids. Who I hadn't considered.
There you have it. I am ashamed to admit it (and am now crying again, after three days of not). I hadn't been thinking about the care the kids would need on a daily basis.
Now that it has been pointed out to me, they are right up there with Lauriel's needs.
But fuck. What a horrible realisation that was. I'd failed to consider the kids would need to get to and from school each day, that they would have appointments and other stuff they would need to do, most importantly, that they'd need to be with their mum - to feel that love and support, during a time that is as intense for them as it is for us.
Then there was the financial cost of 5 return trips to Palmerston North each week, for five weeks. There is no way we could cover the cost of the petrol, let alone all of our other financial commitments.
This aspect was eased, at least, when we were told that if we use the Cancer Society transport (one of their wonderful free services), I can go as well. We were under the impression that only the patient could use the service, so at least now we know (... well, I know) that on the days it does work for me to go, I can go.
I no longer feel as if I will be letting people down if I don't accompany Lauriel to every treatment session. In fact, I know it is going to do me good to have days where I don't go. I can have down time and can focus on self-care, something that will enable me to be the support that Lauriel needs. If I care for myself, I will be more able to care for Lauriel, and for the kids, without getting burnt out and spending 90 minutes lying on our bed, staring at a spot on the curtains, not thinking anything. It's a scary space to be in and it's not a helpful spaced.
Currently, I am awaiting an appointment with the Massey University cancer psychology team. This week has proven that I can't do everything myself, and that to provide the support I need to, I first need to support myself... and let others support me, ie me accepting help.
As I go to hit the 'post' button, I feel very vulnerable. But the purpose of this blog is to be real... so here I am, being painfully real.