I’m exhausted, I went back to work today after 9 days off annual leave. And it was just as stressful as when I left and it was just as physical. I felt embarrassed because I’m usually someone who’s quite quick and efficient but it was one of those days where it took a while for my brain to process things and doing things took time. So I felt guilty for taking so long when I had less people to assist (I work in a care home), but I knew as long as I ensured that everything was done to quality and with care it didn’t matter. But then I felt guilty about not being able to help my colleagues like I normally would. I felt guilty that I’m not at the same efficiency and speed that I used to be when I started. But then I realised that I’ve had Covid since then, I’ve had a diagnosis and I’m not the same person. But then I felt guilty for not being the same person. I felt guilty about having had time off and not been able to come back refreshed, because I’m learning to accept that maybe I never will be.
But the irony is, when I had time off with my partner, I felt guilty because I didn’t want to do anything.
All I did in those 9 days?
A hospital appointment (with a cinema visit afterwards and only because I was in and out the hospital) and then I felt guilty because my partner wanted to stay and watch a film he wanted to see (we had seen one I wanted to) and didn’t have the energy. We painted the bathroom but I felt guilty that we never managed to finish because I didn’t have the energy to do too much at once.
All I had the energy for was binge watching Netflix and playing games together. And then I felt guilty because I was still grumpy in the mornings and tired (even though my pain was less over these days!!). Or we played games and then I always felt guilty when I got too tired to play them anymore or stay up late with him to play them.
We attempted a walk in the week, but the shortest route had stairs and I got halfway up and had to sit down and turn around because my lungs felt like I’d breathed in frozen water and my heart felt like it was going to explode, so then I felt guilty that we had been there less than 10minutes and had to go home because I couldn’t make a 20minute walk.
Then we had my partners brother round and I felt guilty because he wanted to watch a film after dinner (which my partner made) but I didn’t have the energy to stay awake.
Feeling guilty today has simultaneously made me angry. Because why do I feel so guilty about doing what I am able to, to the best of my ability? Why do I feel guilty about pacing myself? Why do I feel guilty about not being able to clean the house over the weekend? Why do I feel guilty about taking it easy and not pushing myself on my week off? Why did I feel guilty about not exercising on my week off? Why did I feel guilty about any of it?
And as I’m typing this, I realise it’s because I’ve ALWAYS been the one that’s done the care. I’ve cleaned for my grandparents since I was little. I’ve looked after my younger brother (who’s autistic) since he was born when I was 13. I’ve looked after my partners/boyfriends in the past and I’ve always looked after my friends. I’ve always looked after people due to working in care.
I have been conditioned to be the carer.
But nobody cares for me in the way I do for them.
And that hurts.
It’s not their fault, I’m an empath, it’s in my nature. But they also haven’t done care for the length of time I have. They haven’t got that experience.
But at the same time I’m angry that I’ve been conditioned to think self-care and taking it easy is laziness. That illness is laziness. And that angers me, because I know I’m not lazy. I could be in agony and struggling to walk from fatigue and I will ALWAYS try to ensure that I clean up after myself and others.
But that’s also extremely sad, because that’s taking “putting others before yourself” to the extreme. And you can’t be taught that, that’s something that you are forced to learn the hard way. That no ones ever going to do it for you.
I don’t know what’s the saddest part.
All I know is I’m exhausted and my bath is doing nothing for the pain.
And I feel like I’m screaming under water, so no one can hear me. I know they care, I have a good GP (a rare find for someone with fibromyalgia) and my partner cares and my friends care. But they can only help so much. It’s not their fault or mine, but that doesn’t make it any easier.
It doesn’t help the exhaustion or the pain.
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