I had a crap night’s sleep last night.
I was even sleeping in the spare room as little F had crept in to our bed, and then STARFISHED so i moved rooms at 3.52am.
Dozed until 5am.
Then did a Tesco food shop at 5.25am (clothes on top of PJs and no bra! How liberating!)
I don’t really like our bed anyway, it’s too hard, and if i’m honest the duvet is too heavy.
And then it dawned on me. I’m a Martyr.
I put up with a load of stuff and sacrifice what i like, just because it makes HIS life easier.
Do all partners of loved ones with Bipolar have martyrdom ways in order to live a more peaceful life? Or am i just a wife and that’s what we ‘do’?
So while he’s not looking, i’m just going to throw some stuff into the web ether of what completely and utterly (sometimes) irritates the hell out of me.
- I sleep on a hard bed, because he likes hard beds. I don’t.
- I get up in the night with our daughter because if his sleep is broken, life is rubbish.
- I make a conscious effort to eat quietly because i’m too noisy – apparently
- I drink with a straw because my gulping sound is too loud (WTF)
- I sleep with the window open, because he likes the window open.
- I take the things he buys back to the shops because he bought them on a whim and doesn’t wan them anymore.
- I stay up late writing and helping him with his work presentations when all i want is to collapse on the safer
- I don’t cook jacket potatoes, because he doesn’t like jacket potatoes. I love them (with beans if you’re interested. Very Slimming World compliant)
- I drive the car that he wants to drive even though it was my money that bought it (he now doesn’t like it)
- I lost 2 stone because he thought it would help his libido if i lost the baby weight – i then put 3 back on. (it didn’t help anyway, and my boobs shrunk)
How much of this do you put down to his diagnosis or just being a ‘man’?
I struggle with this thought a lot – weighing up what i deserve and want against the ‘ in sickness and in health vow’ i made back in 2008 (pre-diagnosis).
But at the end of the day I love him, and I know he loves me and our daughter. We are his EVERYTHING.
Tiredness does funny things to you. For him, it’s a trigger. For me, it’s a time to be a little grumpy and to vent on a blog.
I’m going downstairs now to give him a hug, because even though i haven’t written any down, he does do a lot of stuff for me. Just sometimes not the stuff i need – or want.