So why don’t you just get therapy?

‚ÄčThe short answer is because it’s just not secure enough.  When you’re dealing with the kind of demons I face on a daily basis it’s not enough to have a vow of confidentiality upheld unless there are safety risks, because one minute of me talking and they’d be phoning for back up.  So much for a safe space to talk.  Yet again my need to process some of the things that are weighing me down gets sidelined for someone to tick boxes.  We already have no end of professionals helping us, especially Fred.  They know all this.  As in what I write here.  But nobody stops to think maybe she just needs to talk about the effect it has on her.  Maybe she just needs to let some air out of the pressure cooker before she goes under too, with the weight of everything she’s carrying.
So here goes…I carry more around with me every day than most of you have known in much longer.  And the worst bit? Nobody notices, even when I’m in a room full of people who profess to love me.  The only thing worse than struggling to stay afloat, is people who say they love you just sitting back and letting you get on with it.  It’s not exactly the first time in my life I’ve felt this way in relationships, but I really thought this time was different.  I’m his carer FFS, surely he must be grateful for that and notice me? I definitely got that one wrong.  It just makes it worse.  
I heard a saying yesterday that pretty much sums it up for me…’I went to war for us.  You didn’t even lace your boots up.‘ Like I said it’s not exactly a new thing for me but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.