Sui-sides: My side

When I decide to die, it's not your fault. You are in no way responsible for my decision. It's MY decision.

When I choose to die, it won't be about you. I acknowledge that there will be a feeling that I didn't love you enough to live, and there will be a lot of wondering how could I do that to you. I say again, I can't say  often enough -- it's not about you.

I didn't love you enough?

First off, it is my great, great, overwhelming love for each and every one of you that has kept me going this long. Because I have loved you, I got up from my bed and cooked, and advised,  and even drove all over the countryside  because YOU NEEDED ME.
It is my love for you that keeps me trying.

My love for you has kept me going beyond all reason, beyond all sanity.

Sometimes, in the bad times, I resent that. I don't want held. I want free. Free to live my life  -- or NOT!

How could I do what, exactly, to you? End my life? Lay myself down to  a sleep where I won't have to go to the bathroom, or answer  the telephone, or do any of the many, many things that rob me of my rest, that steal peace from me?
How is that doing something to you? What makes you the star of my death?

I'm tired.
I'm sick.
I'm sick and tired.

I am also in pain. Mental, physical, emotional. Doesn't matter. I hurt.
I hurt, and you can't make that better, although  I know you want to.
I hurt, and healing is too hard. Another chore, another job, another effort.

It's not that you aren't worth  the effort -- you ARE.
It's just too hard, and it hurts too badly.

Finally.
I can't.
I just can't.

Not even you can make it worthwhile.

Give me rest.
Let me rest.

worth working ?

Today the local news is filled with a long wrap-around line of people hoping to work at the new Jungle Jim's that is opening in September. People are so hungry for jobs that they are waiting in summer heat -- and this summer's heat is especially brutal-- for hours. Jungle Jim's is looking for 300 to 400 people, from inexperienced to specialist. They've probably had about 3000 people turn out. That is my estimate from looking at photos and news coverage.

I've been looking for work, too, but that's a more troublesome proposition. If I start work, even just five or ten hours a week, my husband's spenddown for MedicAid will go up, by whatever amount of money I make. Probably the gross amount, not net, but I'm unsure about that. We'll also lose out food assistance, but that's not a deal breaker for just the two of us. But what if we still had children to nourish so they'll grow, and pay attention in school.

And I won't be at home to care for him. He doesn't need nursing or tending, but he can't stand at a stove -- or even a microwave -- long enough to cook for himself. So would he have to go without any time that I work at or through meal time? What if something were to go wrong? What if the electric goes out and he can't use his nebulizer or his oxygen? How will anyone know to help him? How would they help him? What if a water line breaks? He doesn't have the strength or the agility to shut off the water under the sink behind the jars and brushes.

But I still look for work -- I'm pretty sure it's better than not working. Better for us both in terms of community and personal sanity. I know this isolated life makes me edgy, cross, crabby, and mean-as-hell. So, if there's a local job I hear about, I try for it. In a year and a half, I've had two interviews. For the others (about a dozen) I don't make the cut. I'm not sure if it's the beauty check I fail or the background check. Not that it matters.

But I wonder, as I fill in yet another application, if I should get beyond the interview stage, will the job eventually won be worth it. Or will it cost me more -- in more ways -- than staying at home does?

I don't know, but I would like to have the chance to find out.