Lord knows I'm not the only one struggling. I feel sure of that. I KNOW that. And my struggles are next to nothing compared to so many. In immeasurable ways I am blessed, without a doubt. BUT.

It's hard on me, too.

Because B is high risk, pretty much everything falls on me. A lot already fell on me, I'm sure any woman out there can feel that pain, but now I can't even send him out to do errands I don't want to do or don't need to do because I should be working.

Any trip outside the home falls on me. Prescriptions, store trips, vet visits, anything. We are very careful about where he goes, mostly to the park when no one else is around much. I know I could ask but it just me nervous. I'm nervous enough about being out, him being out is ten times worse. I feel sure this virus would be horrific for him at best, deadly at worst and most likely. I try not to dwell on that and my skin has gotten thick enough I don't give two fucks about peoples' opinions that we may be overreacting. 

I'm still working full time so that we have some money coming in even if it's less that I want it to be. B can't really work because he can't get out of the house much because see above. Work-from-home jobs are scarce and he has been unable to procure one. So, money falls on me. So that's stressful as if money hasn't always been my main stress trigger, even when COVID (or whatever) wasn't messing things up..

Stuff around the house falls on me because his physicality has gone downhill. His breathing suffers, he fatigues easily, he gets sore easily. He helps as he can, but I don't ask a lot of him. Then when I do I worry I'm overworking him. 

On the other hand, I feel like he needs to be more active. But I also don't know what it's really like to be him, Sarcoidosis is one of those "invisible" diseases and until he was actually diagnosed I told him he was a hypochondriac. Which he is, but like the the saying about paranoia, just because you're a hypochondriac doesn't mean you're not sick. Obviously I did him a disservice all those years he was complaining about his breathing and I blew it off. 

Ugh. As I type this up it feels like whining. It's not that bad. I have a job. I have a home. I have people who love and care for me. I have B. I have my cats and dog. Writing it all out does help with my perspective so maybe there is something to be said for whining.