My real estate agent shared an inside expression with me recently. She said there are times during a property transaction where an agent must carry his/her own bucket of responsibilities and the other agent’s, too. This was a perfect analogy for how I now feel. It is me holding the family bucket. No one else. It is me that has all the worry. My husband no longer has the ability to worry. Sounds strange but his frontal lobe is slowly deteriorating, and he just doesn’t worry, anymore. Will the pipes freeze? Are the gutters clean? Should we plug or replace the tire that has a nail in it? What is the emotional health of our kids? What do the neighbors think of all the bicycles strewn about our yard? Should we accept the offer on our house or counter for something higher? The list goes on and on from the mundane to the bone crushing concern.
I am becoming a single parent with another adult in my house becoming my 4th child. That sounds so harsh, but it is the reality. He has no desire to share in the decision making and cannot understand basic paperwork or contracts. Making all the decisions and ensuring all the little things are handled around the house is exhausting. I’m tired. I’ve lost my partner, my bucket carrier.
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