I don't understand what is happening to me. Rob is back to work, life is somewhat "normal," I use that term loosely, and I should be very happy. But I'm not. On the mornings my daughter has school I have to peel myself out of bed, but I'm fine and functioning the rest of the day. Days like today, with no school, I can barely get out of bed sometimes. It's almost nine at night and I never got dressed today. I wake up planning to do things, but I don't do them. I mean, my house is clean, I cook dinner, play with my daughter, etc., but I don't want to do those things, either. This happens to me about two or three days a week.
I was having sporadic panic attacks when Rob was in the hospital, but they've gone away. And in their place, I feel pretty much nothing but indifference to everything. As, I suppose, I delayed reaction to the stress of everything, my skin broke out, my hair starting falling out, (my friend was killed in a motorcycle accident as well) and a sinus infection and upper respiratory infection knocked me out for almost two weeks, which has never happened with an illness before.
I hate to complain but I don't know even who to talk to. I'm even finding my relationship with Rob slightly strained - he's handed over to me the few responsibilities he's had in the house, for no apparent reason, and he seems to act like he never had cancer.
I don't know what's wrong with me. I tell myself that others here and literally everywhere have it so much worse than I do, endure so much more than we've endured with our battle, and cope rather well. I feel embarassed to have this feeling that I can't control.
I was having sporadic panic attacks when Rob was in the hospital, but they've gone away. And in their place, I feel pretty much nothing but indifference to everything. As, I suppose, I delayed reaction to the stress of everything, my skin broke out, my hair starting falling out, (my friend was killed in a motorcycle accident as well) and a sinus infection and upper respiratory infection knocked me out for almost two weeks, which has never happened with an illness before.
I hate to complain but I don't know even who to talk to. I'm even finding my relationship with Rob slightly strained - he's handed over to me the few responsibilities he's had in the house, for no apparent reason, and he seems to act like he never had cancer.
I don't know what's wrong with me. I tell myself that others here and literally everywhere have it so much worse than I do, endure so much more than we've endured with our battle, and cope rather well. I feel embarassed to have this feeling that I can't control.
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