Full out robot mode

I should:

- feel grateful
- choose to be happy
- stop feeling blah
- stop eating oreos
- pull myself up by the bootstraps
- live life to the fullest
- make my dying husband happy
- pull on my big girl panties
- get over myself

should should should should should should should should should should

Nothing particularly awful happened today.  Nothing much happened today at all.  Luther slept most of the day.  He isn't feeling the best.  I didn't do much, either.  Hung out.  Did laundry.  Ran a few errands.

So why this frown, clown??  Why this shield of armor around my feelings?  Why do I feel the need for a cape to summon my super hero skills?  It's as if every step, every thought, every minute is in slow, tired motion.

Maybe it's just a down day and I should roll with it.  I don't feel scared or anxious.  I was going to say numb but honestly - and this is really really hard to say out loud - I feel resentful.  My therapist (who I see tomorrow) will tell me I'm allowed to feel this.  I'm not allowed to stay in this moment forever.

Why resentful?  My life is not my own.  Every thing I do is based around taking care of Luther.  I get it.  In my head I completely understand this is an extraordinary situation.  (I wrote "temporary" but that made me cry)   Although I get it, at times, I can't accept it.

I just wrote a whole bunch about sleep schedules but it's redundant.  My entire life revolves around Luther.  99% of the time it's good.  I was afforded the luxury of quitting my job to stay at home with him.  He's my full time job.

We are best of friends, we get along famously.  He laughs at my stories.  He is ok with me leaving for a little bit to have some "me" time.

Every so often, though, like today, I have a twinge of sadness for a life I don't have.  I feel a sliver of anger that ALS has taken away both Luther's and my independence.

Should is a terrible word.  Guilt is a rotten feeling.  Anger toward things that cannot be changed creates resentment.  This negative space is not a good place.

Tomorrow's a new day.  We'll see how it goes.