After several months of sitting on the floor and “enjoying the open space” in our livingroom, a couple from the church felt sorry for us and gave us two couches from their garage. Let it go on record right now that they were two of the most comfortable couches we have had in the history of our life together. Unfortunately, they didn’t match each other or anything else, but I loved them because they were comfortable.
I spent that summer playing with the kids, trying to keep up with housework, and fighting with Michael. I was still so very frustrated by my limitations and I took a lot of my frustration out on Michael. Somehow I had missed out on the picture perfect family where I could assume the June Cleaver role. I loved being in school but I missed teaching. I was anxious for school to start again so I could go back to challenging myself mentally. It had been almost 2 years since my stroke and I still felt inadequate in so many areas of my life. When I bounced a check to the IRS, Michael took the checkbook away from me which broke my heart. I was progressing in the area of reading, but simple computations continued to be a problem. Thinking that I had Multiple Sclerosis added an additional helpless factor as I felt I would only continue to decline.
My frustrations led to continuous conflicts with Michael. I would fly off at the handle for the smallest reasons—usually because I was excessively tired and unable to process the fact that some rest would do wonders at restoring my spirit. Instead, I insisted on persisting when I could hardly hold my head up. As this became my habit, my perspective on life became more stubbornly negative. Michael would come home after a day of work and I would argue with him constantly. Several times a month, I would get so upset that I would actually pack a suitcase and leave, going to a local motel a couple times or just driving around until I had the sense to go home.
One time, Michael and I were in the midst of a huge blowout during which I walked out and sat on the front porch. I waited for him to come out and beg me to come to bed. After sitting on the porch for over an hour, I finally went into our bedroom, only to find him sleeping peacefully in bed. I don’t think he even knew I had pushed him off the bed until his head hit the floor.
When I think of this time in my life, I am so thankful for a husband that loved me so much that he would not give up on me. I know I was not easy to live with. A friend’s husband defended me by saying, “Lori is just playing with the crappy hand she has been dealt.”
By the middle of the summer, I had made my exits more efficient by just always keeping a packed suitcase available in the closet. When August rolled around, we were lucky enough to be able to find a sitter for the kids as Mrs. Taylor couldn’t watch them anymore. A lady from our church took the job and instead of just babysitting for Scott and Sarah, she integrated them into her family—providing them with life experiences and unconditional love that encouraged them to be independent, wonderful children.
I decided to prepare for going back to school by unpacking my suitcase.
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