A Day of Rest

I realize I haven't said much so far so you don't know anything about me right now.
I am a baby Boomer and a Sandwich generation care taker. And just as I lose my older generation caree, I get my husband to watch out for. He was victim to Tramatic Brain Injury (TBI) when he was seven, and through most of his life his ability to learn new things were challenges. Compounded with the legacy of mental illness and Post Tramatic Stress Disorder from being stationed at the DMZ in Korea during the Vietnam War, he is one mentally ill fellow. It wasn't such as issue when we were dating or even the first few years of our marriage, but in the last two years it has become more difficult to help him. He remembers what dirty deals were done to him thirty years ago, but I can't send him into Circle K for milk and soda without him coming out to ask me what he was supposed to get. If it wasn't for Travis, my son, being here, I think I'd have gone of the deep end long ago. Not that he doesn't have a good heart, and he can work. His work is simple and his route to work and church are easy and a habit. Anything new puts him in the ozone. And we do have fun when we go somewhere, but I have to do all the work to get us there. I am the cook, bottle washer, financial manager and crazy person. I need breaks. I take a few. I do things outsude the home because I need to have something that is mine. So now you know what I go through daily. I worry about him everyday and every way. AND IT SUCKS...