Poop Storm Continues to Pour In…

Its 1am and I can’t sleep. I think the last 6+ years of this challenging road are starting to leave their mark on me. I walked out on Lance at the hospital this evening.

We have been arguing a bunch over the last few days. Everything uttered seemed to be fighting words. He has been quitting smoking and hasn’t smoked at all for the last 3 days. I’m proud of him for that. I also know that nicotine withdrawals can be intense. I’ve tried to give him some slack because of it, on top of the slack that I have been giving him due to cutting off his thumb. I know there are tons of emotions going on there.

After fighting today, he stormed off, sending me a text a little while later saying he went for a walk and didn’t know when he would be back. After the last few days of not being able to say a single thing right, I have to admit that I was grateful for the break from walking on egg shells and fighting. I was too upset.

He texted me a bit later, quite a bit later, and told me he felt that maybe he needed to go check himself into the hospital. I see him struggling everyday with his emotions, mostly trying to avoid them by staying busy doing anything and everything he can, and watching him sink deeper and deeper into depression. I felt this was a step in the right direction so I went and picked him up to take him in.

One of the things that has been an argument over the last few days is the cast on his hand and arm. He wanted to take it off. I have talked him out of it, sometimes not so nicely because he wasn’t hearing me. Well, tonight, at the hospital while we were waiting for them to finish all of the intake stuff before finding him a bed, he took the cast off while I wasn’t looking. I lost it.

I called him an idiot (I know. Not nice. Not loving. Not nurturing.) and told him I was done with this, to call me when he was done, and walked out of the hospital. The worst part of it all, for me at least, was that the only emotion I was having was… well I think there were a few of them going on: anger, disbelief, and something else I’m not sure I can name. I think I’ve shut down empathy. Or life has. I don’t know.

By the time I had walked to the Jeep, I was wondering what was wrong with me. I had no guilt for walking out, no intention of just calming down and going back in, and that just isn’t like me, especially when it comes to Lance. I called a friend that knows my heart to ask her if this means I have a goblin heart.

I love this friend. She is always on my side, but she thinks about her answers before giving them and she has always been honest with me. To me, that is a true friend. Though she admitted it was a tough call, she assured me that I do not have a goblin heart. I had just reached my limit and she also assured me that there is nothing wrong with coming to the realization that you can take no more.

I am debating on whether or not I should just drop clothes off for Lance at the hospital or wait until visiting time. I love the guy, he just needs more help right now than I am capable of giving. I have my own poop storm going on. (the moving truck that hit me wasn’t insured)

God, how did life get so messed up? I’d love to just blame it all on the fact that Lance now has half a thumb, but I can’t. It just seems like, no matter how hard we fight to make things better in our world, the crap just keeps coming. Maybe it doesn’t but it is really feeling like that right now. I hope I can get some sleep tonight.

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