I am a fiercely independent person. It was a learned behavior. I didn't start out that way, but after years of being an enabler and being taken advantage of, I learned to not need anyone else to take care of me.
When I asked BF to move in, it was with great trepidation. I didn't want to lose my independence. I didn't want to lose my alone time. I enjoy those times where I could just come home and lock my door and forget the rest of the world exists.
But his being here has been anything but a problem. If anything, the house stayed cleaner, laundry has been done on a more regular basis, and even the dog seemed happier.
Now I am a semi-invalid. A leg in a cast, an arm in a cast, ribs that hurt when I breathe, among other things. I had gotten used to him nursing me. I was used to him doing all of the things I can't right now. I was used to him picking up the things that I drop and can't bend down to pick up. I was used to him, well, you know. The cast prevents me from handling that myself. I miss him terribly, and there is absolutely nothing I can do to change it. I am lost.
Thank God he'll be back on Friday. I'm down to my last pair of clean underwear.
