I just realized that my life isn't going to get any better

It isn’t that it’s so bad right now, but for some reason I always kinda hoped that my husband’s health would improve enough so we could do some of the things we’d like to do.

I just realized that isn’t going to happen. We’re never going to go on those trips or do those neat backyard projects or remodel the basement. We’re never even going to do some of the things we could do when we first got married.

It shouldn’t have taken me this long to realize it. I mean, it’s pretty damned obvious, but I guess I was deluding myself. This is as good as it’s ever going to get.

I think I need a drink.

I’m sorry your husband has been ill. Hopefully things will get better for you.

Take care.

I’m sorry. :frowning:

I had a similar realization earlier today. My life is busy with other people’s problems, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

Can I have a drink with you?

Eli

Why? What about his illness makes these things impossible? I don’t mean to judge, or come across harshly, but I had a friend kill himself this past weekend, so I am seriously committed right now to living life, without excuse, without remorse, and without regret.

I send the best prayers a non-religious person can send, but I really hope you (or your husband) **never ** give up the thought the every day is full of immense possibility.

I don’t think it’s so much giving up as just realizing that some things you’ve planned to do just aren’t feasible anymore. My mom went through something similar when my dad was diagnosed with cancer, and their post-retirement plans for travel and whatnot all of a sudden just weren’t going to happen. However, in the last couple months they took a three-week trip to England and Wales and had a great time. I guess expectations and plans adjust, and you do what you can with what you have.

jsgoddess, keep your chin up. While you may not be able to do some of the things you planned anymore, you may discover some other things you and your husband can do. I know that probably sounds like simple platitudes right now, but I wish the two of you the best.

That’s precisely my point! If you and your husband always wanted to turn the basement into a movie theater, but now you’ve discovered he has a terminal illness, I say build the fucking theater! If it’s experiences you want, then go out and get them.

If you both always wanted to take an Alaskan cruise, but he’s going to be too sick next month to leave the house, then get thee on an Alaskan cruise tomorrow!

Time is fleeting! Money is just a tool! Live your life as much as you can, when you can, because there is no guarantee of tomorrow. You can always get another job, or take out a loan, or whatever else practical needs to be done. But if you are faced with serious hardship, then get your priorities in order, and spend time honoring the love you have for each other.

My friend (who I’ve known since college) hung himself on Friday night. If I had any inkling of that, I’d have driven the 5 hours to be with him. Now that I can’t, I can only think of what could have been…don’t do that to yourself. Life is too important for regrets.

Absolutely. But be warned, I’m a lightweight and will probably be blubbering under the table within minutes.

Yep.

Well, they never were, not really.

I’ve said, “Maybe next year” for the last ten years. Today, it was, “Maybe next year you’ll feel up to that.”

And he gave the same answer that he generally does. “I hope so.”

What a pair of liars we are.

**Atomicktom’s ** response is understandable, but probably not very doable right now. Yes, money is meant to be spent, but even if they have enough money to afford a cruise or a remodeling or whatever, then what? Impetuously living life to the fullest in the face of pending disaster is a great movie gimmick, but in real life it leaves survivors ill-prepared for the future.

jsgoddess, you didn’t say whether your husband is actually terminal or just in chronic ill health. My mother was the latter for four years before she died, and we always had hope that the doctors would lick the low blood pressure, the infections and the myriad other problems, and things would get better. Instead, she just got worse over a long period of time.

Ordinarily, I don’t reccommend drinking one’s troubles away. But it’s almost five where I am, so I’ll hoist one with ya, goddess. Now c’mere and lemme give ya’ a big ol’ hug. Therrrrrrre, now it’s going to be all right.

I know the feeling. Set smaller goals you can do, and do them the best way you can as a couple. Accomplishing small things is better than doing naught. You can’t live on pipe dreams and isinglass.

Handy dandy isinglass link.

Chronic ill health. Slowly worsening, with enough good days that you get fooled into thinking that maybe this time it’ll be different. This time it will last longer.

I’m sorry about your mom.

And I don’t actually drink, but since I’m already suffering this much self-delusion, what’s a little more, eh?

Some trips can be arranged around illnesses and bad health.

Backyard projects can be done with the help of friends. It may even be more fun that way.

Remodeling the basement can be done by professionals.

Some things we want to do, but never get the chance. Some things we want to dream about doing, knowing that we never will. And some things, we need to surrender before we can find a way to do them. (Hint: Because the way we find to do them is not the way we previously insisted they must happen.)

Sending good vibes your way. These are some seriously good vibrations, so dont give up!

A friend of mine and her husband were always planning all the things that they were going to do when their daughter finished college. All their hopes and plans for big vacations, etc., they put off, so that she could go to college without financial hardship. Everything was going to be “someday”. Then Bob got rheumatoid arthritis. Debilitating, crippling RA. They never got to do any of the “someday” things that they wanted to do. He died at around age 50, after probably 8-10 years of fighting his debilitating disease. The one thing that the wife said to me (I’m a good 12 years younger than her), and I will always remember, is to not put off your dreams for “someday”, because “someday” may never come.

What does this have to do with your situation, jsgoddess? Directly, nothing. Indirectly, it explains why I feel for you and your plans that you feel will never happen. I was very much affected by watching these two people I cared about lose out on all the plans they had for themselves because of his health problems. So if your husband’s remissions or improvements allow at all, please take every chance you get to rack up some good experiences for you both to enjoy and for you to treasure if ever you’re without him.

{{{{jsgoddess and husband}}}}

No problem, I’m not a heavyweight either.

My parents saved aggressively for retirement. Then my dad lost his job for a year. There went much of the savings. 3 years after returning to work, he got sick, went to the ER, and was diagnosed with terminal cancer. 36 days later, he was gone.

My Mom was 42 when he died.

Mom went to work FT, and made ends meet. Then in 2000, she was diagnosed with MS. In 2003, they added PSP (an aggressive version of Parkinson’s) to her list of diagnoses. Now she’s wheelchair-bound, can’t speak, and sleeps 18 hours a day.

She’s 58.

She never got the chance to do anything she wanted to do.

Do it now, while you can. You never know what the next moment will bring.

Eli

I’m sorry to hear of your troubles, jsgoddess.

When my mother was in her final year with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, my stepfather took six weeks and gave her her last holiday: they drove 12000 km from the Toronto area to San Francisco and Vancouver and back, a vast triangle trip across central North America. Every day he fed her and carried her from the car to the motel and back.

People can and often do do a surprising amount.

Hell, I came to this realization years ago. Unless my parents have more squirrelled away than they’re letting on in which case things might get better in about ten years or so.

Rationally, I knew that I wasn’t alone in this feeling. But reading everyone’s stories helps me to internalize it do a degree. Thanks.

I’d love to join you for that drink!
My pelvic affiliate has rapid-cycle bipolar disorder (with psychotic breaks), PTSD, Borderline Personality, Dissociative Disorder and a handful of Anxiety Disorders. Also migraines, thrush (and chronic yeast-y infections such as candida) and two emotionally disturbed kids.

Last year, we discovered that she’s had Lyme disease for around 20 years, so there’s not much hope of that ever going away.

I’m slowly coming to terms with the idea that my life is going to be radically different than the way I had always hoped/expected, because it’s all overshadowed by her illnesses. No overseas vacations, no cruises, no camping trips, and probably a house that’s too small for us. Hell, we can hardly even go out to movies anymore because there are so many people.

Sure, I could leave and live the life I deserve (or at least, the life I feel I deserve), but not only do I love her and the kids, there’s no way I’m going to leave them to the hell that would be their lives if I were to go.
When we get married, we joke that our vows will be "to love and cherish for better and worse, for rich–er, for poorer, in sickness and…well…until death do us part.

So I can feel your pain, and your frustration and despair. And yes, anger.

As far as dealing with it? I dunno…I’m finding it easier to re-think my priorities. To change what I expect out of life, now that so many things are unrealistic. If I dwell on what I cannot have, I’ll never be happy with what I do have: a loving (though frequently conniption-inducingly crazy) partner with two wonderful (though often maddeningly senseless) kids.
Am I bitter? Sure.
Do I have regrets? You bet.
Would I change how the people in my life are? In a heartbeat.
Will I survive and learn to be happy with the way my life has turned out? Gosh, I hope so.

If you feel like venting and want to PM me, feel free.