It's coming up to three weeks since my David left me, and I 'm confused.
I am spending my time wondering why I didn't do things differently, etc etc.
I'm looking back and wondering why I didn't just sit and talk to David, or take him out on the patio in the sun. He was always just stuck in the living room or the bedroom, and only went out for appointments.
In reality, I know I was working 45 hour weeks plus regular Saturday's, and every day when I got home from work it was a three hour job to make dinner, feed David, tidy up and then toilet him etc. By which time it was bed time. But I'm feeling rotten about his quality of life, especially when I read some of the wonderful posts about trips to respite, sitting in the garden etc.
I feel like I got it all wrong, and I'm sobbing my socks off again. I feel like I was the worst career in the world.
I just don't understand, I can't make head or tail of it.