Anger and Frustration

WARNING: I'm going to rant! You could say this is my way of throwing a tantrum.

Three years ago some idiot (and I will call him that since he has gone missing and won't own up to what he did to me) hit me and has changed my life. I don't like what I've had to become. Ok, there are parts I sort of like, but for the most part the past three years have been hell. I want my life back! I want to go and do, not sit and watch.

These past few weeks we have been painting two kids' bedrooms. An easy task three years ago, but not now. I can barely even get the furniture out of the bedrooms without fatigue and pain. Because my husband is a slave at Microsoft he has very limited hours in which he can help me, so I try to do the preliminary stuff so he can do the painting. I taped, patched and primed Jessie's room and then paid for it by not being able to move the next day. A week later we are in Matt, Chris and Mike's rooms and this time I thought I would take it easy. I still did a bit and am paying for it. All I want to do is a simple stripe and before I get a three foot section done, my arm goes numb!

About a year ago I wrote a letter to the man who hit me and as I sit and read it again, nothing has changed. I still hate what he has done to me. I still spend four days a week in therapy--painful therapy. I have undergone surgeries to have pain taken away. They have worked, but when that pain is gone, they then find the next layer (where we are at today).

Things I can no longer do because it hurts: wash mirrors, water ski or tube, jump on a trampoline, garden, sit and spend hours sewing, spend hours surfing the web, mow a lawn, hold a baby, clean the house, iron a shirt, spend hours playing the piano, and I'm sure there are others that I can't remember. Believe it or not, but I love to do all these things. (I would add spend time cooking--but then I would lie because I don't like to cook.)

Shall I add the mental anguish: driving in fear (I still do--won't even drive Steve's car), depression, stupid hair styles, doctor's & therapist's conflicting advice, gaining weight, too much time spent on me not my family and the money worries.

I don't even want to start with how much this has cost us. We are close to $100,000 just in medical bills. If I was to add all the extras that this has cost us it would be frightening. I think of all the things I could have done to save us money but instead I was spending it on therapy and things to make my life easier. The hot pads, ice packs, frozen dinners, all those dinners out, all the yard work that doesn't get done or I have to pay children to do, ditto on house work (but that ok, we don't have money to pay the children anyway), etc.

But I think the thing that hurt the worse was last night when my husband came to bed complaining of aches and pains from his weekend of painting and working around the house. Those aches and pain shouldn't be there--those are mine. His worries are at his job, not at home. I'm the one who is supposed to take care of making our home a wonderful place. I just want to say, I'm so sorry Steve. I didn't want to get hit, I didn't plan on getting hit, I didn't want us to go through this hell and I'm so sorry that the 9 months they first told us has come and gone and gone again and again, and I'm still not better. This effects the whole family and I'm so sorry. I wish I could keep this from the family, but unfortunately I can't and we have to live with it.

Boy do I wish this would end! I want to do the things that I enjoyed. As I realized a few months ago while I was watching my kids have a blast on a slip-n-slide that when I sit and watch it is maybe a 3 on a scale of 1-10 (10 being the best) and 5 when I see that my kids are having a blast. But knowing that when I did it with my kids it was a 10--it HURTS!

Well, that was my major tantrum for the day. I've wiped the tears from my face, reapplied my make-up and I will sit and watch while my husband paints the bedroom, put up the closet organizer and try not to start crying again.