Why do the simple requests make me angry? Why do the mundane everyday tasks overwhelm me when cleaning a mess in the bathroom is a matter of course? Why have I let myself go and gained weight and often forget to look in the mirror before I leave the house? Why do I feel bone tired when I have spent a large portion of the day fluttering from task to computer games to another task to watching a show with my husband? Why don't I know that it rained outside today or that it is glorious outside? Why does a dirty dish pop up to replace the one I just washed? Why do the cats insist on using the fresh little before I finish cleaning it? Why do I know a smidgen of a lot of things and not much about anything anymore? Why does my husband's incessant search for a something to watch on t.v. bring me to the brink of violence or at least fantasizing about violence? Why do I resist the simple way of doing routine tasks?

Why do I feel as if I have aged more in the past 5 years than I did in the fifteen years before the past five years? Why don't I know how long I have been caregiving instead of pulling five years out of thin air? Why does the same mind that wants to stomp my husband into the ground also want to crawl into the hospital bed with him and comfort him? Why haven't I been more proactive in finding someone to spend time with my husband so I can go further than 10 miles from home without anxiety plaguing me? Why am I surprised when someone tells me I am doing a good job and that they know how exhausting it is to do this day after day? Why do I have the expectation that an explanation of frontal temporal degeneration will be met with anything other than a comparison with Alzheimer's and a smug look? Why do I care that, someone who does not have a clue about the subject matter, believes they have just made a point that I obviously overlooked?

Why does the look of distress and grimace of effort on my husband's face irritate me? Why does it surprise me that he has this look when all the literature tells me that he will probably have this look? Why did I think to myself when I read about the look that I would be the exception to the rule and remain neutral? Why do I ask him if he is upset or in pain when he grunts as he moves in the chair or when he is reaching for the remote? Why don't I hear him when he says that everything is an effort and that is why he grunts?

Why, despite all the years of frustration, anger, confusion, and disappointments do I still want to be the one caring for my husband? Why does it still matter to me what he thinks and how he feels when I am around? Why am I finally accepting that love rarely looks like the love that I imagined when I was younger? Why am I o.k. with the fact that love is mostly hard work and determination with small periods of rest when things go well?

And to borrow from a song and for no apparent reason: "Why do birds suddenly appear every time you are near? Just like me, they long to be close to you!"

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