Pity party...

Continue reading only if you don't mind a published pity party.

I am just feeling so very overwhelmed. Up until 3 years ago, I was on top of my game. I had a job and a career that, while I wasn't rolling in the money, I was blessed to be able to provide for my family. We didn't need anything. We were comfortable. I was a single mom who moved my family in with my mother to help her in the early stages of her disease. Of course, there were conflicts and problems, that's part of life. But, we were happy.

Then almost 3 years ago, the economy forced me out of my job. I looked at it as a blessing because the timing coincided with my Mom's condition worsening. But, it also began a series of situations that began testing my faith and the very reality of who I am.

Now, I feel as if each test that I have gotten through, I am handed another. Sort of, “Well, you came out of that one smiling, try this... Whack!” And, each challenge is harder to smile through. I am tired with no rest in sight. I am broke and falling deeper into the money pit. I am sick with no healthcare and a system that doesn't work. I am angry and becoming angrier. I am alone.

Yesterday, my car was ransacked and several items were taken. But, worse, the jerk then stole my daughter's car. I feel like I have the proverbial “kick me” sign on my back. And, by association, my children are being kicked, as well. I can't help but wonder what I did that was so horrible that this is my payback.

I know that those items and the car are just things. I know that. I am grateful that no one was hurt. I am grateful for so much. But, at what point is it okay to just say, “Screw it”?

Published pity party is over. I will now continue in private. 

I did not want to be right...

I knew this day was coming, but it's not a gloating, "I told you so" type of knowing.  It's more of a "what's next" type of knowing. explain. 

Mom has been angrier than usual lately.  Everything from taking a pill (I'm trying to kill her) to taking a shower (she already did that) is grounds for an argument.  And, sometimes, a physical argument.  Mom had to take a shower this morning.  Without, going into too much detail, she had to take one.  After, asking her politely, trying to bribe her, coax her, trick her, threaten her, I ended up forcing her to take the darn thing.  It turned into a mini brawl that included arm holds and choking (towards me, not her).  Once I got her in, she showered with minimal assistance. 

She calmed down while she ate her breakfast.  But, she was itching to go.  Just as soon as the van arrived to pick her up, she became argumentative and nasty again.  I had to get her seated because she was so angry. Her day was okay at the day care, until she had to ride the van again.  The driver called and said that they were running late because Mom "threw a fit".  By the time they arrived here, Mom refused to get off the van. 

She just fights everything. If you want her to go, she wants to stay.  If she's hungry and you give her food, she doesn't want it and refuses to eat it.  I am sure that it's her final attempt to control a life that has become chaotic and uncontrollable.

The van driver asked me what steps were they allowed to take to calm Mom.  As I'm concerned about their safety, I told her that, yes, they could restrain Mom. I felt okay with my answer, because I trust these people.  Nothing in the facility is done behind closed doors.  The clients are always in full view of anyone and everyone.  Just from my personal observation, these people have so much more compassion and patience than I do.  And, they are aware that restraint is the final choice for Mom.  But, what a choice.

I will be trying to contact Mom's memory doctor tomorrow.  Between the lack of sleep (mine) and the aggression, something needs to be done. I just hope that, at this point, there is something that can be done. I shudder and cry at the possibility that the day care will be forced to turn her away. 

Yes, I knew this day was coming, I just didn't want to be right. 

I've seen fire...

Mom was on fire today.  The van had to pull over before they even got off of our street.  She raised her fist to the driver on the way home.  When the driver raised her own hands in a demonstration of submission to Mom, Mom started screaming that the woman hurt her. 

Mom's been home for maybe 15 minutes and she's picked a few fights with me. She was furious that the mailbox was attached to the front of the house.  She has accused me of stealing her jewelry, hitting her in the nose, and breaking her arm.  She's slapped Katie and has dumped the food that we gave her. 

Right now, she is on a timeout in her room.  And, just like when I used to send my kids to their rooms, it's not so much about punishing them, but more giving me a break before I completely lose my temper. 

As I am writing this, Fire and Rain came on Pandora:

"Won't you look down upon me, Jesus
You've got to help me make a stand
You've just got to see me through another day
My body's aching and my time is at hand
I won't make it any other way."
 





 

Sign language...

I am sitting here trying not to laugh.  Loudly.  Mom is sitting across the room frantically gesturing to me.  She wants me to leave with her, but leave my daughter here.  The problem is, my daughter can see her. Very clearly  Somehow, she thinks if she waves her arms above her head, violently shakes her hands back and forth while trying to get my attention, then no one else in the room can see her. When she thinks I am looking, she holds up one hand as a shield and points to the door with her other hand.  Her movements are so frantic, you can actually hear them!

I am doing my best to ignore her but each time my eyes venture to the left side of the computer screen the movements increase.  As they travel to the right, she slows down.  So, now it's a game for me.  Mom is being controlled and I'm the remote control.   Oh, the possibilities.

It's the little things...

I usually dress Mom each morning. Most days I simply have to talk her through each step.I usually I have to actually show her that pants are not a shirt and socks are not her underwear. Sometimes, I have to physically help her with each item. It's easiest to dress her after a shower because I simply have to lay out the clean clothes while hiding everything else.

Today was a good day. She dressed herself. Head to toe, she had everything in the right place. So, out we went to do errands. We were gone about 3 hours. As I was unlocking the front door, I looked down and saw this:  

My dad would have said, "I'll bet she has another pair just like 'em at home."

Where is the hope...

Every now and then, I go back and read my previous blog entries.  Sometimes, I don't recognize my own words.  Most of the time, the words take me back to the very feelings that I had while writing.  A couple have made me laugh.  But, overall, I have such a profound feeling of sadness as I read.  Especially, the recent posts, I sound so sad and as if I feel hopeless. 

Early entries didn't shy away from the deep feelings, no matter how negative.  But, they were usually injected with a just a bit of hope.  That hope has been missing recently.  Both, in my words and in my life.  The desperation is so real now.  I shame myself each time I wonder when this journey is going to be over,  I pray for it to be over.  Shame because I am wishing for my mother's life to end.  I can't ask how long must she be forced to live like this, she is not living.  Instead I must ask how long must she suffer?  And, selfishly, how long must we?

But, the biggest shame of all comes from the jealousy I feel when I hear of a victim of this disease finally being given peace.  Yes, I am happy that their fight is over and they are whole before their Father.  But, I am also jealous that their caregivers are at peace, as well.  Through the pain of loss, there has to be some measure of peace.  And that is the hope of this entry. 

The content of my character...

“The content of your character is your choice. Day by day, what you choose, what you think and what you do, is what you become.” - Heraclitus

My life has changed a great deal since I made the choice to move my family in here with Mom.  A great deal.  But, one of the biggest changes, is also the one that is most difficult for me to accept: I am nowhere close to the person that I thought I was.

I've always considered myself to be a kind, openhearted and compassionate person. But, each day that I move further into this journey, I realize how far away from that perception of me, that I am traveling. And it hurts. Kindness is not filled with hate. Open hearts do not react with resentment. And compassion does not respond with anger. Yet, hate, resentment and anger describe me far better. Each day that I respond negatively, to the challenges of this situation, is a day that I choose to do so. My choices have led me to what I have become.