Guilt Anger and a Talk

This post may contain affiliate links but at NO extra costs to you. For further details, please read my full disclosure policy.

February 2, 2016

Last night was another terrible night of no sleep for me. I tried changing sides of the bed with my husband to see if it would be more comfortable, but it was not. I tossed and turned the entire night only to awaken to excruciating  back pains an hour before the alarm.

It hurt to get out of bed, but lying down was too painful. Walking, standing, sitting, lying down all hurt equally. Tears fell out of pain, frustration, and lack of sleep. How much longer can this last?

As I thought of what to do to alleviate the pain, I stretched out my back even though it evoked more pain. My husband “smoothed” out my back muscles while I stretched. My physical therapist did this years ago once a week for six weeks. It worked wonders on me. The daily pain went down to the low numbers, and would stay there for months. It was refreshing.

The rest of the day has gone so-so. My mom (thank you, Lord, for such an amazing mom) picked up my youngest daughter to spend a few days with her so that I may get some time to write. This means, for the first time, that I will be home alone tomorrow and a few days after. What will I do with myself? I can only imagine.

Tonight was not so easy. My husband came home from work to help cook dinner, clean the house, and get the kids ready for school tomorrow because I am still feeling ill. He became frustrated when our youngest son wouldn’t clean his mess, and refused to eat dinner. This led to the two of us arguing. Not all his fault, and not all my fault.

He was upset with the stress of work and my son not helping out with cleaning. I took it as he was upset because he had to take care of me. Again. For the thousandth time. I went to my bed and cried.

There were so many emotions running through me.






I know the purpose of my chronic illness, so I wasn’t saying “why me” during my emotional breakdown. It was more like me surrendering to my emotions.

I was guilty for having a chronic illness, and needing my husband to take care of me. He has a lot on his shoulders as a husband, father, son, coworker, and caregiver. That’s a lot of stress of each role compounded onto him each day. Guilt was my number one emotion.

Then I felt anger for being so ill that I couldn’t help with dinner, cleaning, and homework. And that my husband does have all that stress, and I’m often times unable to help him.

Once the anger ebbed, feelings of weakness and powerlessness took over. I usually live each day feeling strong and powerful enough to conquer any emotion or situation thrown my way. Today was not that day. I hate feeling weak and powerless.

After a few minutes had passed, my husband came to our room to check on me. He thought I had went to bed and was sleeping. When he realized I was crying, he became upset. Not with me, but seeing me hurt or crying upsets him.

We talked about how I was feeling, and why I was feeling those emotions. He explained that he’s never upset that he has to take care of me. Seeing me hurting day after day, even when I don’t say it, makes him angry because he doesn’t like seeing me in pain. Whenever I’m in pain, he wants to take it from me so I can live without it.

Then he talked about deeper issues that have been bothering him. Not issues about family life, but about other topics. We’ll leave that alone since this is my journal, not his.

Everything worked out. I was still in pain, but the pain was physical and not emotional.

Sometimes it’s good to have a good cry. Just let out the emotions and send them out into the universe away from you.

Disclaimer: Please understand that everyone is different in their journey with fibromyalgia and/or chronic illness. This is my journey, my stories, my vulnerability to share with you in order to help in some way. It is in no way to compare my journey with yours or to minimize your pains, feelings, or experiences. Please do not comment with any negativity.

Read more about My Fibro Journal.

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Scroll to Top