God and his infernal signs

here's the deal.

If She'd let me I'd tell her, it isn't so tough, everybody thinks sometimes that their life ain't good enough. ( Another line from one of his songs).

I had a car accident last night.

This one wasn't full of mystery like the last one though. Metal crunching, actual damage - though cosmetic only and no one got hurt.

Unlike the last time, I was not in the least distracted and very much focused on the road and what was happening. I guess that's why I am a little bit annoyed.

You see, I have a pet peeve. No, not the magazine cards I wrote about years ago. People in a single lane road who are behind a turning vehicle and feel the need to swerve around them.

This is what happened to me. Unfortunately, the woman who did it, was incredibly nice.

It doesn't alter the facts. I still had an accident.

And it depressed me. A lot.

It wasn't my fault. Not that it matters, we live in a no fault state. But the fact remains that this situation reall compounds the problems of living that I am encountering.

Was this accident a sign of something? If so, I'm not sure what. LAst time was so incredibly obvious but this time? Or was it merely a sign for the other person I hit?

Or.... does it have to be a sign at all?

Life as a caretaker is really tough. I do it out of love. And only out of love. He needs me and the fact is I make him comfortable and happy and he feels good about himself when he's with me.

But the treatments are starting to decline his overall health. He sleeps the majority of the day now AND the night but the nights are rough - he's up and down a lot and spends the bulk of the night on the couch because of this.

I miss him. I miss us. I miss the relationship as it was pre-diagnosis. And I feel like an incredible heel for feeling this way. I feel HORRIBLE. I feel selfish.

He's been cooking for me the last 2 days and I love it. I do. And yet, I felt the perverse need to apologize that he feels the need to cook for me. I feel like he should be resting not taking care of me. He argued that he was spoiling me rotten and he liked doing that. Cooking is therapeutic.

We were talking about a friend of mine who had a benign tumor in her brain and all the surgery she had. He went to say something and waved it off. I made him say it. So he said that the whore had had a benign brain tumor. Which I knew as he told me this before. We chatted idly about it.

I know that I, in part, created this situation between us and I can't change how I feel about him, her and their past, but I am trying and he is not giving me the chances though I do think I have shown some growth where she is concerned.

I am so afraid to open up lately. I am afraid that anything I say that is problematic will generate a fight. Strife festers cancer. So I save it all up. And keep it inside. Where it festers. Locked away. Sometimes I write about it here. Sometimes I just can't.

I am afraid. The bottom line is, I am afraid of getting hurt. I am afraid of letting go. I am afraid of letting someone see inside me.

I tried today. I told him something important about the accident. Something that no one else knows. He was really understanding and not in the leasts judgemental.

Good start. Maybe there is hope.