I’m bored. I’m so bored. As bored as bored can be. Yes, I’m stressed, busy, and my shoulder still hurts but after weeks of solid groundhog day-ing I’m thoroughly tired of everything.
Can you be bored and stressed? Maybe I mean I’m uninspired? The drudgery of my everyday life is getting to me and I’m not interested in anything. This is rare for me as I usually find most things spark my interest. I will watch a documentary on anything and love learning new facts. But this week, I simply can’t be bothered. I do what I have to do with no enthusiasm.
I don’t even want to eat, I cook for grandma but barely eat for myself. I have no appetite and every recipe idea I usually enjoy sounds dull to me. It is like I live in a numb bubble. A bored bubble if you will. Constant caring sucks the life out of you, and you become a shell of your former self. Things that used to matter to me don’t as much anymore, or things that would make me angry don’t trigger me. Even writing the overused-by-social-media-influencers word ‘trigger’ has no effect on me. (Apologies for using it dear reader, I’ll do better in the next blog ).
The thing about being busy and having an endless caring and working to-do list is that you don’t have time to think, that time is usually when I get an idea or will think of something to look up, read or listen to when I grandma is having her post-lunch wine nap at the weekend. Time to think is crucial for me, as an anxious over-thinker, but it is also my (very small) super power. I can usually come up with an idea a minute or a creative story angle for work, which is handy as that’s a big part of my job. It is that creativity that keeps me inspired and interested in making an effort to stay engaged with life outside of my job and caring, even though I’m exhausted.
Being a carer means you can’t do what you love. A hobby or something you find fun. That’s important to stay inspired. That something is horse riding for me but I have no time to do it. I do walk by a field of horses on my early morning pre-work walks, perhaps a chat and a cuddle with a friendly pony will help me get my mojo back. Horses are great listeners.
Number Eighteen, in the corner 
3 responses to “Bored bubble”
Just a poem about how I feel as an unpaid carer
New poem from me to you.
Its Groundhog Day.
Suzanne Morrison
You stir, stretch yourself, you hear a call.
Your day just began.
The day stretches out before you, will you cope?
A day of chores, which have to be done completed.
Done to the best you can do.
Brain fog, just get through it.
This is not a job any would take.
Am I doing enough or too little I ask myself.
I cant change their health, take away their pain and suffering.
I and millions of others, we are invisible, difficult people.
We dont have rights, we dont have a contract, no voice
I am getting too old, I am tired.
Where did me go, does she still exist.
Each night after midnight I climb the stairs to bed.
My work starts one day, ends the next.
I keep going ticking off the jobs as I go along.
I forgot to hug my husband, my son so I add another box.
Tomorrow, oh it is tomorrow, Today I will hug them so close.
Sleep will eventually come as the mind cannot switch off.
My other self saying you didnt do well yesterday, do better.
Another 4 hours and you hear a call. You stir, stretch yourself,
Your day just began. Its Groundhog Day again
What being a carer is really like its not nice and fluffy, or positive. Its hard made harder by those who should know better, not just for your loved one, but for anyone who is their advocate or representative.
CCG have just gone extinct, renamed themselves, but it will be run by the same people with the same attitude. These are not the Doctors or nurses we depend but the people who make the decisons backed up by those who carry them out.
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‘Your day just began. Its Groundhog Day again’ how very true. Thanks for sharing 🙂
L x
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My pleasure, sometime words become our friends, companions. Poems help us, when life gets a bit hard, a form of therapy. Release of the words we want to say, to tell someone how we are really feeling. You get asked how are you, your response is I am fine. No you are no you just can’t verbalise it. I need to get out more often I think.
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