As I tried to talk, the tears came. I hate that. I hate feeling vulnerable and crying on Teale’s psychologist. I want to be strong, share the issues with her in an unemotional way. I hope to get insight and when I’m an emotional mess, I feel weak. I don’t see myself as weak. I hold together through so much, but I do have breaking points where the pain finally hits and I blubber. I had a few of these moments recently. Teale’s moods had shifted and I was feeling fear. Fear that we were going to experience the physical explosions. Fear that I wouldn’t be able to control her in them. So far she hadn’t gotten physical, but the rages were bringing up my PTSD. The triggers didn’t make sense, so the sudden mood shifts brought fear. Fear I couldn’t say anything to her. Walking on eggshells in your own home is exhausting. People who live like this, get it. The not knowing what will make someone blow. The tiptoeing around your words, scared you’ll say the wrong thing. It gives me mental fatigue. The psychologist listened as I cried. As I shared how difficult this all is, being stuck home in COVID with Teale. She thought carefully before responding. Her words chosen with compassion, “You are doing the best you can.” That’s all I needed to hear. Like a child needing praise, I needed validation that I wasn’t the cause of Teale’s unrest. I needed to be seen and heard. I needed a pat on the back. I need to know that someone, anyone, saw how difficult this has all been. So if you are like me, struggling to see the good in these crazy times, just remember, “You are doing the best you can.”
