Guilt and acceptance

My father has suffered a severe stroke five weeks ago and been in the hospital since. It's about three hours back and forth with public transport and I try to visit him twice a week, but it's been hard. Yesterday in particular. I went to visit him with his friend (who picked me up with the car) and I felt uncomfortable the whole ride. This probably set the foundation for trouble, because when I arrived at his room I started to feel more weak, unwell, unsafe, far from home, and as if I was not connected with my body. Suddenly my heart rate goes through the roof and I hurry to the bathroom to hide. Just for a few minutes so it doesn't seem strange. I just couldn't feel comfortable and wanted to leave as soon as possible. Luckily his friend did not intend on staying long, so we left soon. The ride back was just as bad, if not worse, with me continuously worrying about my heart (something I have done, often to lesser extent, daily for the past few years).

Today my father called me to say how much he'd want me to be there. I explained to him why I did not stay much yesterday, that I felt anxious, that I felt unwell and needed to leave. But while I was uttering those words, I felt like a failure of a person, completely limited. Not by something visible, physical, but by obsessive thoughts and fear. Only people that experience something similar can understand how difficult that can be, but otherwise it's nothing. I felt bad, because here I was telling him what I felt, while he is paralyzed on the left side, peeing through a catheter and getting liquid through a feeding tube. He seemed understanding, but in the end it was me that got upset. I feel useless and imprisoned by myself.

I don't feel specifically guilty towards my father, because he has done his utmost best to not be present in my live or any of his kids. Always being busy with women. Only when he got old and alone did he look for contact. None of his other kids have visited him yet and besides me he only has one other person coming by. I'm not resentful and I will take care of him to the best of my ability, but I can't sacrifice too much.

So it's not that. It's a general guilt towards life, that I am losing so much precious time worrying while having endless possibilities. And this situation with my father has made it abundantly clear how little I am capable of doing at this moment in my life. I have talked about it before, but I have difficulties accepting it. Many times I walk out of the door with determination, thinking, '**** this, I don't care if I drop dead, I will just go out', but it doesn't do much of anything. I still feel weak, tired, difficulties breathing etc. It never ends. And barely anybody sees it. I don't look at all like how I feel, which probably is the case for many people.

Last thing I want is to victimize myself, so hopefully this post doesn't come off like that. With 10% of the world living in extreme poverty I don't have anything to complain about. But lately I have been feeling defeated, and that's where this is coming from. I will start a new therapy in January and will work to win something back there.