The problem with being the primary caregiver to someone you love who is ill either physically or mentally or both is that you are there, always there, you are the one that is the easiest to lash out at when things go wrong.
I swear everything is my fault somehow. If the internet is not working I get my head bitten off for asking what is wrong. If the dog's toys are in the hall and I ask if he's okay after tripping over a dog toy I get a tongue lashing about why they are there.
When it comes time for dinner the ritual is the same day in and day out - what do you want I ask? Well what do we have he says. I start listing off things, usually 4-5 choices. He will focus on one of them and tell me I don't want ______. I say well what about the 4 other things I suggested and he says in a snide and condescending voice JUST MAKE SOMETHING.
No matter what I do for him, how I bend over backwards to help or be of assistance I am the bad guy, the fall guy, the scape goat.
From what I understand this is the curse of the caregiver. It's not an easy life and yet it's mine.
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