I Need to Invest in Myself
Earlier today, my husband and I got into a minor disagreement. I felt hurried and said that watching TV was one of my few pleasures left. I was horrified. No more pathetic words have ever escaped my lips.
I think I will get a computer in a few weeks. And then perhaps purchase a Spanish or Russian language package.
I’ve been taking minimalism to a weird extreme, I’ve concluded. This past autumn was one of the hardest ever, dealing with Barry and his declining health, getting an advance directive, starting the will, and, oh yeah, the sewage backup in the basement. I needed to relax and recover, but it will be a cold day in hell before I let TV be the high point of my life. Barry has no choice. He is capable of nothing more. I refuse to live the life of an eighty year old at 47. I have been trying to conserve my resources by not going out, not to mention that the temps haven’t been out of the single digits for a few days.
It may be time to expend a few resources on myself, carefully and strategically. I hate it, but the alternative is to passively wait for Barry to die, resenting his very existence. I believe that this is referred to as caregiver burnout. It is not pretty.