Ok. I'm going to be brutally honest. I'm probably going to be lambasted and taken to task over my thoughts today, but hey-ho, I promised to be honest with myself when I started to write this blog, and I'm not going to start and edit things due to worrying about what other's might think.

Today, I positively dislike my husband. I mean really dislike him, and I'm not going to apologise for it. I'm not perfect, but by Christ I've had it today. He can't stand to be in the same room as me. He's choosing to go to friend's houses so he doesn't have to be near me. He can't look at me without being repulsed. He wishes I'd leave. He understands how the girls hate me and agrees with all the horrible things they say about me (these must be said subliminally because I've not heard them - and I'm hardly ever out of this house). He wants a divorce, he wants me away, he couldn't throw me far enough - you getting the picture yet?

He was away first thing this morning to help with a lawnmower. He doesn't mind doing this, but he won't do things for me because "I only help those that help themselves". He came back long enough to say hello to the dog before going next door. Tuesday is a busy night with the girls so tea is prompt. Normally I make it when he's in, but because of the running about I had to do I had his ready for him when coming back from next door.

I got in tonight to find that the dog had stolen his tea off the kitchen table (he must have used a step ladder because he's only a small dog - and if I'd been here when it happened he'd have been a small dog in a box). Hubby thinks this is hilarious. He thinks it's funny how the dog had climbed onto a chair to reach the kitchen table, he thinks it's funny because the dog obviously doesn't like baked beans because that's all that was left. He then proceeded to put some cheese on the beans left by the dog and melted it. He ate what the dog had licked and eaten around. Honestly. I can't believe it. He is such a clean OCD person I can't believe the plate wasn't bleached.

Due to him missing tea I asked him if he'd like a sandwhich. I made him some tuna and mayonnaise sandwiches, but I don't know why because they are "f**king disgusting, just like you". He watched me make them before he commented. "Why couldn't you have just done cheese?". I had asked him what he would like. I had bloody asked him. So now the original sandwiches are covered and in the fridge and he's ignoring the cheese ones out of principle.

He has a doctor's appointment tomorrow, just a small one, but he usually gets wound up before them. It's just taken a little while longer to show his aggitation before this one. He doesn't want me going to it. "Why should you go? It has nothing to do with you." was the last words on the matter. To make the situation easier I bit my tongue. Saying nothing is sometimes the best option, but dear God you hear it over and over and over again until he's vented his rant and calmness descends.

Tomorrow will be different. He'll want me to go when he gets up in the morning. The reason for this will be so that I can go and put on a happy face and show the doctor that there's nothing wrong with him and that every single doctor that we've seen (and we have seen many) are wrong.

It's his face when he's saying these things that upsets me. He snarles words at me, speaks through gritted teeth and scrunches his face up in disgust. I really can cope with the memory problems - they are a walk in the park, but it's these mood swings that are a struggle. If I mention them to the CPN or Doctor then they'll want to put him back onto his "mood" tablets and then he'll know I've been talking about him which will make things worse, and he will refuse to go back onto them anyway - so what's the point.

Constantly Trying by name, Constantly Trying by nature.

I'm not going to re-read this, simply so I don't amend anything, so please can I apologise now for any typos. x

Lee at Dementia Challengers asked me to write a piece about what it's like to have Dementia at a young age (from my perspective). I sat and thought about it for a couple of weeks before writing anything down. It's now on Lee's site, dementiachallengers.com and you can read it here.

I am thrilled to be on such a wonderful website. You'll find Lee on my useful links page, and with good reason. I'm chuffed that anyone would want to read my ramblings. It's one thing me rambling away on here, but it's another to be asked to write for another site, and a highly regarded one at that.

There are a lot of people out there who work tirelessly for the likes of me and mine. They challenge perceptions, they ask "cue"uestions, they don't take any flannel and they all want medals the size of frying pans. We are in this illness because we have it, and whilst I'm getting more and more into the whys, hows and wherefores, it's because I'm sitting in the puddle of Dementia. All  of these wonderful people are choosing to, throwing their wellies on and jumping and splashing in the puddle and to those people I take my hat off to you.

#DementiaChallengers have a new song. I don't think another song could be "cue"uite as anthemic, and whilst I didn't think that was a word... it is :o)  

So whilst Dementia Awareness Week might be over, it's only just beginning because "Nothing's going to stop us now" and we're on a roll :o) 

I've decided to be a bit upbeat in today's post (I hear the cheers and sighes of relief lol).

The wonderful Lee at Dementia Challengers posted a "cue"uestion (I'm not even going to say how frustrated I am about that "cue" button - I think you can sense it...) on twitter today. The "cue"uestion was about technology and gadgets and how can they help carers. I responded by saying that if carers have access to the technology and gadgets that Twitter is a Godsend. It is. It's my lifeline. I only got into twitter because of a suggestion by Lee. Lee will never know just how grateful I am for this suggestion.

Being in a house 24/7 can mean that you're cut off from friends, whether they just fall by the wayside because they don't know what to say to you or because you choose to fall back from the group because you just don't know what to say to them. Isolation and loneliness hits you. You can become devoid of grown up conversation - any conversation. Joining Twitter opens up a whole new world that you didn't even realise was out there. I've "met" people on Twitter that I now consider friends - I just haven't met them, but it doesn't mean that I don't think of them as friends. Because of Twitter I'm learning things, looking at links that I would never have known about, reading things I didn't know I didn't know. It buoys me when I'm feeling low. It gives me a kick up the a**e when I'm wallowing and when a kick up the a**e is needed. It can give you view points you hadn't thought of, shows you perspectives that you hadn't looked from. It shows you that whilst you might feel alone you are not, there are others out there feeling the same way as yourself, there are people on Twitter who are suffering from this illness called Dementia, there are carers of this illness called Dementia, there are people who are working hard to bring this illness called Dementia to it's knees and there are those who are working relentlessly to raise awareness of this illness called Dementia.

I just want to say thank you too all of you on there. Thank you for listening to my mini ramblings (as opposed to reading my rambling meanderings on here), for responding to my mini ramblings, for educating me, for sharing your thoughts and deeds and for raising awareness of this illness. I couldn't be without Twitter now, and that's down to you lovely lot. Thank you x 

Today has been a long day. It seems the time I get to write my blog gets later and later and will probably be a day behind itself soon lol.

The girls, since our chat last night, have been in a far better mood today - thankfully. I only wish that they'd told me earlier so that I could have put their minds at rest, but heyho, hindsight is a wonderful thing.

I feel like home is a prison sometimes. I always knew that driving was my bit of me time, but it's not until recently I realised just how much I miss it. Hubby fought to keep his licence, and he has but it took a long time, and he had to jump through hoops to be able to keep it. This means that when we're going anywhere that he drives. It also means that if I get the car it's for a short five minute drive to the local village shop and back (where I see people and it feels like I'm having a trip out - sad isn't it. I feel like this when I go to the co-op for bits and pieces). Money is tight so I have to ask if I can use the car, so I can go a long time without getting out into my car for a little bit of freedom.

Today I spoke to the girls about maybe visiting Grandma tomorrow. This was a silly mistake. Hubby came home from his sister's house (he's allowed to go where he wants when he wants) and he told me that he'd arranged to go back tomorrow with our neighbour to do something with the lawnmower. Bang goes me going to see mum. So then I asked about maybe going to mum's on Monday. Nope. He'd arranged to go and do something and we'd be carless again. The reason we were going to mum's is because she bought us a new kettle today. The reason she bout us a new kettle today is because hubby is convinced that our kettle is boiling itself when it chooses. Electric is dangerous (probably where littley got the glitter lamp catching fire from), and we're only allowed to switch the kettle on at the wall when we're boiling it, otherwise it has to be switched off at the wall. "You can't be too careful with electric". I know this, but the kettle isn't boiling itself as and when it chooses. So mum bought us a new kettle for his peace of mind. Expensive bloody kettle when she's have to drive 120 miles round trip to deliver it... It wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't mentioned to the girls about seeing Grandma, I could have got away with it, but I'd already spoken to mum about the maybe plan, so now she's having to come here because the girls were so disappointed they weren't going to see Grandma.

I'm so frustrated that I can't make any plans because even if I do they can be usurped by hubby without any reason or logic and if you don't go with the flow the fall out from trying to explain yourself about any made plans just makes it not worth doing what you had planned in the first place. Even the girls have noticed how daddy has to get his own way and about how unfair this can be. My eldest today commented to me about how all I seem to do is housework and meals and dishes and how I never get out of the house.

After telling me about me not being able to have the car (probably ever again the way he was talking) he went straight round to next door. I made tea only for him to tell me over our fence that I was not to make his yet because he'd get it later. Now this doesn't mean that I can make his tea and heat it up when he wants it, it means that his tea has to be made for when he wants it because he doesn't like heated up meals. So come half nine there I was making tea for him.

It's as if he doesn't want to be home. It's as if he tries to find ways of not being here. He barely speaks to us at the moment, but you can't shut him up with other people. I noticed tonight how we seem to be watching films and things on the tv that we used to watch when we got together. We sat and watched Titanic tonight - he hates films, but he sat watching it avidly telling me bits about the film that I wouldn't know about (although I did, I didn't let on that I did. I let him think he was telling me something new - is that cruel?). The thing that gets me is, because of his age his memories aren't what a seventy or eighty year old would have, and he is not only going to forget who the girls are, but he'll forget who I am too because he hasn't got the memories to boomf up what he forgets. Does that make any sense what so ever? We just seem to be having a blip at the moment. I'll just have to wait and see how it goes, but dear God its unsettling. x

I've just spent ages writing down my thoughts only to be timed out and lost the work - but that's not what I'm sad and cross about.

Littley had a meeting with one of her people at school today and one of the "cue"uestions (I hate that effing "cue" button) asked was "how tidy is the house?" (God bless her, she said a 10 out of 10), but apparently this is a way of working out if I'm coping or not. Seriously? She doesn't get out of bed walking onto hyperdermic needles, she doesn't trip over Vodka bottles, she has a meal at meal times, she goes to school and out to play in clean clothes, she's not walking through rubbish from one end of the house to the other, but this flags up with them whether I'm coping or not. I would like them to come and inspect the house, the cleaning OCD being one of hubby's "little things". She's devastated.

She told me she was worried that she's going to set fire to the house with her glitter lamp from her birthday. She couldn't understand how water and electric could mix safely and thought that the cable would catch fire, her "bunny" (a soft toy she got at three and has loved ever since) would catch fire, daddy's laptop would catch fire and she would be shouted at by him because of it. I've explained the physics of the glitter lamp and she's not worried about it anymore but I couldn't understand where this was coming from so I sat all three of them down.

It kind of goes something like this...

Littley is upset and worried that daddy is forgetting their names, or mixing them up and that means that daddy will forget who they are. Huge sigh. She said that a few meetings ago with their doctor and nurse the nurse told them that "daddy will go into a home". WTF? (Please excuse my language) Why? Bear in mind these children were six, nine and eleven at the time of these meetings. "Why did they have to tell us this? I was too young to understand" said the now nine year old (like she's any older to understand now). I have had sobs and distress and upset and tears and then some, some of which were my tears. Middley is worried that rather than daddy be put into a home, I would choose to have them put into a home instead. OH MY GOD.

I know this illness is debilitating. I know it goes down hill. I know whatever day we're at is the best we're going to have. Why tell the children this? I have sat tonight for two hours and explained that daddy takes medicine to make him as well as he can be. That I look after daddy to make sure things are easier in the house for him. That I make sure that things in the house are smoother for them too. I explained that I would never, never, ever let anyone take them away from me. That nobody, and I mean nobody would ever take them away from home and put them in a children's home. I promised this faithfully to them - a pinky promise at that. I explained that if daddy gets very poorly that I will still look after him. They asked about him going into an old people's home like the nurse had told them. Littley took my hand whilst sobbing and said "Promise me mummy that you won't let daddy go into a home. Promise me that you will look after him. Promise me. If you can't cope I will help you every step of the way, but promise me mummy." Involuntary tears streaming down my face. I promised that I would keep them safe. I promised that I would look after daddy. Biggey and Middley asked "what will happen if it gets too much for you?". I simply said that I would ask for help, someone to come to the house and help me with daddy so he can stay here. "But that's expensive mummy and we can't afford that". (Tears rolling down my cheeks now).

Why should a thirteen and eleven year old worry about money? Why should they be stressing about daddy needing help in the house and us not being able to afford it? Why should any of them be thinking that daddy is going to be carted off? Why should any of them think that they will be carted off? Why am I being asked by middley if she has anger management issues? She's eleven for Christ's sake (again with the swearing...). I explained to her that she doesn't have anger management issues. I told her that when she bottles her feelings up it's like me shaking a bottle of coke. When there's no more room for these feelings they have to explode out of her like a bottle of coke would and the "fizz" is her feelings. She looked at me understanding how I'd explained it to her and said "I'm more of an Irn Bru kind of girl mummy". You see. The girls have their mother's use of humour in situations that would have you dropping to your knees, just like me.

We continued the conversation with me telling them that they can talk to me about anything, absolutely anything, and that no I wouldn't tell daddy what they've said, it would be between them and I and that I would do my very best to make it better, but that I couldn't do this if they don't tell me. This seemed to work because ten minutes later littley asked if she could have her sausage left over from tea (fingers up to you mrs woman who is wondering if I'm coping with caring for my children) and middley and biggey asked if they could have a ham sandwich. 

All is now calm in the Constantly Trying home, for now, and I'm going to go and wash the plates from the left over sausage and the ham sandwiches. Double fingers up to you mrs woman asking "cue"uestions about "how tidy is your house?".

I love that Whitesnake song. Today has been out of the norm completely. I can't really go into details, not because I'm not going to but because I need to think through how I'm going to deal with it first. A workman's incompetence has had a knock on effect with stress and distress of hubby and he's sitting stewing and working himself up about it. I have to remain calm (although I want to blow a gasket) because if I do it compounds the stress for him. Let me just say that the poor man coming to the house tomorrow does not know what he's walking into - and I mean the work he has to face and also me.

I'm lovely (I think...), I treat people how I would like to be treated, I speak how I would like to be spoken to, but try to make me look foolish and whoa betide you, especially when it's having the knock on effect with hubby that it has done.

He's gotten himself into a tizz so practically nothing has been done today. I've tidied the bedrooms, made lunch and tea, done dishes and that's about it. The rest of the time I've been trying to keep him calm. The fact that I'm not ranting and raving does not bode well for the man coming to the house tomorrow. When I'm ranting and raving all is well. When I'm calm and silent... the same can't be said lol.

I try to keep things calm. I try to be two steps ahead of ourselves all the time to keep things calm. I preempt situations. I work like buggery to make it look like a swan is gliding effortlessly across the lake only to be peddling away like billio under the water and then some ball comes hurtling towards me from left field and well, I look like a hippopotomus flailing around in a mud pit. Ah well, let's see what tomorrow brings... 

I had a conversation with some lovely people on Twitter today regarding the article on Dementia in the Daily Express (read me).

I read it, and whilst it's bullet points were fair enough, I felt patronised by the suggestions on how to respond to them. I found it to be very simplistic. I do understand that it was a short article and not everything can be put into it or things gone into detail, but Dementia isn't a "One Size Fits All" illness. Christ, I can't find a pair of jeans to fit me properly (must lose weight... must lose weight...) so what chance do I stand with this illness? The comment on how a carer might see getting the caree (even a word?) dressed is a task completed in itself I found insulting. I can't imagine that anyone is going to dress their caree (there it is again - must google that) to look rediculous. Simple tasks become like trying to plug the ocean with your little finger, and whilst the article likens the sufferer to a toddler (which at times my hubby behaves like one), a grown adult with full strength and own opinions can't be placated with a chocolate button like a two year old can (substitute chocolate button with carrot sticks and humous if you prefer).

When I hoover the sitting room it's an easy task in itself. Due to hubby's OCD with cleanliness it's not. Sometimes I might have to brush the carpet first. Then it's hoovered. Then I have to go over the carpet with the nozzle section by section. This is an easy task complicated by his opinions on how to hoover a carpet. The bathroom has to be done with a toothbrush. These things keep my husband happy. It makes my day run smoother by doing them, but it has a knock on effect with everything else that I have to do. 

It mentions aggression and that you should try and view it as frustration, sadness, discomfort or pain. We do this on a daily basis. Simple? No. I know it's his illness talking. I know it's "my other husband". The girls know this too. Not so simple when he's trying to hit one over the head with a sweety tin lid, or chasing one around the house because he hasn't finished his rant and he wants to get to the end of it before they leave a room. It's frightening and intimidating and you're just waiting for that ticking bomb going off, maybe not this time but maybe the next. It's like living on a knife's edge.

My mantra for our illness is "winging it". That's what the girls and I do daily. This doesn't mean that what works today will work tomorrow or the day after so you change tac. It's a bit like a game of snakes and ladders. On some rolls of the dice you go up a ladder and have a good day, on another roll of the dice you hit a snake and you have a bad day. It's a game you know you can't win regardless of how many sixes you throw, but you play it because if you don't the ladder would be never ending. I play it because for as awful as it is for myself, I can't even begin to imagine how awful it is for him. I play it because I love who I'm caring for dearly. I play it because he loves me (I know this because he's just told me - and I can't remember the last time he said this).

Dementia Awareness Week is doing exactly what it says on the tin, raising awareness of this awful illness. It's amazing how when you're looking you notice things (like when you buy a new car and you think you're the only one with one, until you're on the road and then they're everywhere). It's just a shame that you have to be in the Dementia boat before you see them - and even then you have to look bloody hard. I only hope that Dementia Awareness Week is just the beginning and that it continues after the seven days. The more people that know about it, are aware of it, and not just the illness but the stigma for the sufferer and the carer the better. Living with Dementia is like trying to hold back the floodgates enough as it is without the ignorance that surrounds it. Hopefully Dementia Awareness Week will help be the cure for Ignorance. Every little helps. 

It's littley's birthday today, and hubby "was back". I'm so happy that he was lovely, warm and smiling today. She had a friend around for tea, a party is a no no because of the noise level, and he sat in the living room whilst they had their party tea (staying away from the noise). When I told littley that she could have a friend for tea her first remark was "but I'm not allowed friends at home". I told her that it was daddy's idea and that he was the one that said it was ok. Her response to this was her face lighting up in the biggest smile and "That is so kind of daddy. Isn't that lovely of him."

I'm so knackered today. I've baked like Nigella, and the funny thing is when you looked at the party table you wouldn't have thought it. I've hoovered like a demon, once with the hoover and then with the nozzle (him and his funny ways...), I've polished like billio (only for him to tell me I've used the wrong polish and have him show me how to do it correctly with the correct polish). I've washed, I've cleaned, I've done skirting boards, I've hoovered curtain rails, I've made coffees - generally just a normal day. I'm coming to the conclusion that when I'm baking he's in a better mood. I don't know if it's because he can see me being busy so I am busy (where as with housework you can't see it's been done because you're doing it before it needs done, bless his little cleaning OCD...), or whether it's because he likes what I'm baking (he would never tell you he enjoyed it lol) or whether it reminds him of being little and his mum and granny baking. Anyway, I don't mind baking if it gives me a reprieve from the constant nagging and insults. It's also been warmer today so it might be that his knees haven't hurt him so much today - the cold and the damp make his knees sore and lock.

Anyway. For as much as I whinge about the bad days, today has been a lovely one.

He's now sitting at his laptop googling pubs for sale... He fancies running one - but at least it's a change from moving to the Orkney Isles.... and he's "cue"uiet, so I think I'll make us a coffee and I might just have a left over egg mayonnaise sandwhich :o)

Littley's Party Tea

I don't know if I've just hit "the wall" these past few days and am a bit more sensitive (for want of a better word), but "he" seems to be staying for a bit. I think the meds aren't as effective as they were, but to get them ammended means that I have to tell his CPN and Dr, and then he will know I've said something. "We'll ask CT how your mood swings are and go from there..." was said at the last meeting, and blow me, his memory might be shot, but he does remember this. It's back to cloak and dagger and speaking to the CPN when he isn't about, and pretending in the next meeting that all is well, when really it isn't.

This morning he announced that littley wasn't allowed the present he'd given the green light too last week. Major disappointment for her. Middley is so upset about it because she knew that littley would love it. It's something she's asked for since she was three, and they were thrilled that daddy was going to let her have it for her birthday. "Why is daddy allowed anything he wants, and he says no to littley's present? It's ruined it for her" with held back tears. She is going to love her present, she doesn't know about the almost one, but I just feel so sad. They don't ask for much, they really don't, and to see the happy smiley faces of biggey and littley when daddy told them that she could get this present was lovely. To see the disappointment - not.

My attitude is causing an issue. I don't think I have one (I really don't). I've gone into neutal. I'm trying not to show any emotion at the moment. It's not worth answering back, arguing, pleading, showing affection (last night I ruffled his hair and all I got was "why did you trip up and use me as a prop - I bet you've been drinking vodka" I didn't trip up and I hadn't been drinking vodka - or anything else come to that). He didn't want me in bed last night. It's going to get to the point where I'm not allowed to sleep there again and I'll be back on the sofa. I repulse him. He can't stand the sight of me. Yet like a light switch hubby comes back and it's smiles and twinkles putting up pictures (he has a thing about pictures in that he won't stop buying them, which upsets me again because of finances, I wouldn't mind if I even liked the sodding things). I feel for as much as he's disappearing into the background when other hubby turns up that I am too. I feel like a coloured tv show that's slowly turning black and white where I just get on with things in a robotic fashion, trying to hold back tears so I don't get wrong for being upset.

I resent this illness for making me feel selfish. I resent it because either he will die young or he'll live to be 107, either way we're buggered. It's like having an extra child who won't sit on the naughty step, and there's no reasoning or logic and you're never right. I resent stupid little things like having to watch a programme about boats when there's something I'd like to watch and even though he isn't watching it because he's on his laptop or looking at a camera magazine, I'm not allowed to change channels. Petty things like that.

He had a tooth out last week and he's been complaining for the last couple of days about feeling something in his gum. He wouldn't let me call the dentist and today I told him to open his mouth so I could have a look. There was something there and I could feel my stomach churning. He told me to push it to see what happened. It was a pea. We haven't had peas for days - like I mentioned yesterday, he doesn't even like the sodding things. What did he do? He ate it. Horrid.

It's Dementia week this week. All of us who live with this illness, and work with this illness know what it's like. It's horrid and evil and takes no prisoners. It doesn't care who you are, age, creed, religion and it just gnaws away at you. I always knew what Dementia was, but was not aware of the amount of pressure that a carer feels. The feeling of the world being on my shoulders. The fact that I am responsible for a loved one who has lost responsibility. It's exhausting, emotional, sad and I grieve for the person I'm losing, but it's how I feel like I'm losing a little bit of me here and there that I was not aware of. Carers need to be thought about too (regardless of illness). It's isolating and lonely and I feel like I could stand and scream some days, but then you'll have a good day, maybe a good few days and I forget how awful it's been, I put it to the back of my mind and you get on with it and make the best of a bad situation. I just need a good day lol. xx 

It's been a funny old day today. It has certainly had me live up to my name of Constantly Trying, trying being the operative word. We've had the search for the car keys - which turned up under the bonnet on the battery (thank God I hadn't used the car because heaven only knows where they would have landed, and it would have been my fault that they were lost because "you never put your keys away..."), and then there was the telling off over tea. Of course it was my fault. I should have known that he would want gravy with Tandoori Chicken, and I should also have known that he wouldn't want sweetcorn "you never make it nice". I mean I open a tin and heat them - how can you go wrong? "You should have done peas with tea" - he doesn't like effing peas...

I've noticed the other man I'm married to is visiting more and more. The man who turns up and creates merry hell. The one with the temper and the horrid comments. You never know when he's going to be here, and you're desperately waiting for the husband you love to return. I do love my husband, but when he's here I don't like him. "You're worthless", "You're attitude is awful", "No wonder the girls hate you", "We'd all be happier if you weren't here" that kind of thing. Last time my other husband came he enjoyed telling me about how he wanted me dead, how he was going to do it, how he would enjoy it. He told our youngest that he wanted her run over by a car. That she wouldn't get a funeral and that he would throw her body down the bottom of the garden and he would watch how she rotted. Utter, utter devastation.

The two men flicker between one and the other. I've been cocky in the fact that he hasn't been around for a few months, gotten comfortable with my lovely hubby. Yet this week the other one's been here a few times. Our eldest is the only one that looks a bit like me. I'm sure she gets some of the grief because of it. He sits and goes "Raaa" to make you jump. He does it because he finds it funny to watch you get a fright. It works. It's not funny. His words are jumbled. I got wrong today because he wasn't going to give the dog tuna. I had suggested we gave him tuna. We don't have any bloody tuna. "How fucking stupid are you to want to give the dog tuna?" I never mentioned tuna. He gave the dog tinned salmon instead. We're having conversations we aren't even having.

It upsets me that people will hear. I don't want people to hear how I'm spoken to, or how the girls are spoken to. It upsets me that my other husband is coming back, and when he does my lovely, kind, peaceful husband goes away for a bit. I don't want to be frightened of him. I used to be. He's a big, gentle giant of a man, but when my other husband is here he's intimidating. He follows you around and blocks you from leaving a room because he hasn't finished saying the awful things that he has to get out into the open because they won't stay in his head anymore.

It frightens me that my lovely husband will leave completely and in his place this other man will stay. It frightens me what I'll have to do in the future because  I can't have the girls surrounded by this. I can't have them frightened. Looking after our girls means that I will eventually betray him. I feel guilt for thinking these things when they aren't an issue yet. He is not a bad man, he isn't, it's this sodding awful illness that laps about him, coming in and out like the tide so that you never know where you are. You never know if you'll need your life jacket or not.

Then he'll go "do you want to watch this programme?" like the other husband has never been here. He smiles at me with that twinkle in his beautiful blue eyes and you forget that he went away.