This morning at about 8 am, while Dani was asleep beside me, I realised that I’d crapped myself / shit myself/ had an accident.
I get no pleasure writing about this. How could I possibly? Dani was asleep and I was lying in my own shit/ excrement/ crap/ whatever you prefer to call it.
I can’t feel anything ( other than shame/ helplessness/ humiliation/ horror/embarrassment )
I had a choice – to lie there / to wake Dani and give her the good news. To wake to that task, that task being to clean up an adult man who has done what in ‘normal circumstances ‘ what a helpless baby would do , is not exactly a good start to the weekend ..
After half an hour or so I thought it was reasonable ( ish ) to wake her and ask for some assistance.
There followed what every mum would be familiar with, but with a very, very large baby.
Dani expressed far less horror than that which I felt inside
I can’t say that there are any upsides to this presently incurable injury. I have gone through the day feeling humiliated/ irrelevant/ impotent/ suicidal .
Later on I helped a colleague by ‘ mystery shopping ‘ his business, posing as a customer,and detailing my ‘ customer journey’
This is the reality of my world. I wonder, pre injury, whether I ( or you reading this ) would have been able to ‘ pick myself up and carry on with my day’, after that ‘shitty’ start?
As usual in these ‘uncomfortable ‘ posts, I expect no one to leave a comment, it being a lot easier not to.
When my partner died yesterday, I wrote ( emailed / texted ) to all of my staff and a lot of ‘colleagues ‘ about Selcuk. I got barely a response of any kind, it being ‘easier’ not to.
Is that normal or cowardly, I really don’t know any more … To me, addressing pain is now normal and I’m guilty of applying my own new personal rules to others ( which I am told that I cannot )
I still do though, but I expect no one to ‘stand up and say something’ on this site.
Why would they? I have no idea who reads this stuff that I post, so there’s no pressure on anyone to…