He Crossed The Line

I am so mad right now, I could spit nails! I very seldom go on a pity trip. I am tougher than most think, and deal with a lot of issues that in a normal person’s life, would not deal with. Remember my last post? The one of which I spoke about Al and the women’s flyers and papers he was hoarding onto? I have already explained this earlier. Some of you disagreed with me and feel like I should let him have what he wishes, and others felt like I was doing alright. It so matters what your comments are, but I still have to do what I have to do in order to keep him safe for himself, and others. He has not always been an angel, nor have any of us, but when mom and dad were alive, he pulled many tricks that they always got him out of because of his mentality. I get it, and I am not going to bash my parents for what decisions they made for Al. When I talked to Al about his way of talking about women and wanting to gawk at their nakedness, I told him I could understand how he felt, and I also told him he could have a couple of items for his personal use in his bedroom. I thought all was alright, because I didn’t hear anything else about it the rest of the day. Right now though, I am on a pity trip for me. It is giving me great pleasure to some degree, because my mind is off of him and on to me. I worked my bottom off today. I hurt my back again rearranging all the furniture so that he could get his scooter all through the house. I did this for him, more than for me. I did his laundry today, folded it and actually took it and placed it on his bed, that I had changed the sheets earlier this morning for him without an offer from him to help. Everything I do revolves around his wishes and wants and needs. I always put me last. In the past ten months, I have probably had maybe if I stretch it, sixteen hours total to myself. Other than that he and I are together all the time. I bend over backwards to make him happy, to produce a smile. I went way over board to give him a big birthday party. Part of me is starting to cool down a bit and get that built-in mechanism back telling myself, now he is sick. Look at all the medical problems he has, don’t be so hard on him. The other part of me is saying what you did made me so mad. As I said he seemed to be alright, and he took his afternoon nap. It was fifteen minutes before the caregiver was to come for his shower. This was her last day. I went to his room and woke him up telling him it was almost time. She arrived and the shower was given. They both came out to the living room afterwards and all of a sudden, out of the blue, he starts crying, and I mean really crying. She and I didn’t know what to think. Our questions started coming trying to find out what was going on. He kept saying it was personal. What? Personal, that he was in pain. I thought pain in the body? What kind of pain? He said he shouldn’t say because it hurt so bad. I was getting a little nervous, since the caregiver had just pointed out to me that his fingers were very pale looking. He finally says that Satan is bugging him. I thought, oh no! not this again! Then he opens his mouth and the whole ugly story comes out. He was telling her that I was cussing at him this morning, and that I was being mean to him. I told him I never cussed at him and I didn’t even raise my voice. He went on and on about how mean I was and that I owed him an apology for hurting him so bad. Hurting him? Oh, you mean emotional hurting him. Alright. He was letting her know without actually telling her what we had discussed this morning about women and disrespect towards women. She had no idea what was going on, but then I was beginning to get steamed. The caregiver was asking him if he would feel better if I apologized to him, and he shook his head yes. I said instantly, I am not going to apologize. I did nothing wrong, and I don’t feel any different about it now then I did this morning, and actually I had forgotten about it all the time, but obviously, he had not. My brother who is mildly mentally challenged had this all planned out to make me look like a bad-ass in front of her. He wanted his pay back. After all I do for him, he wanted to pay me back. I told him I was going to walk her outside and I left him sitting there with his snotty nose and his tears. Outside I briefly told her as little as possible, since she was not coming back anymore, so she would understand why I wasn’t going to apologize to him. She understood then. I went back inside, and he had disappeared to his room. I called his name three times and he ignored me totally. I marched myself in there, and I told him I knew exactly what he was doing, and I wasn’t playing into it. He could just sit in his room the rest of his night and sulk if he chose. He said nothing. I ordered a pizza, and it has just come. Guess who is walking out of their bedroom now?

oops (Photo credit: macwagen)