What a way to start the day...

I don't know whether to laugh or cry this morning.  Mom is extremely delusional.

She just banged on the bathroom door and got my daughter out of the shower.  When Katie answered the door, Mom said, "Mr. Marley, I presume?"

She was trying to zip up her jacket and couldn't do it, mainly because she was starting at the top.  I usually let her try to figure it out herself until she starts to get frustrated.  So, I was still letting her do it when she figured it out.  She looked up at me and said, "Wow!  You figured it out.  You're a smartist!"

She rapidly accelerated into the delusions. She started screaming for me to help find "him".  I mean screaming!  She looked at me and said, "Find my f***ing father!" 


She moved on to banging on all of the doors looking for him.  She opened the unlocked (oops on me) closet door, started grabbing jackets and saying, "Is that you?  Why are you hiding from me?"

She turned and screamed at me to help find her father.  She then came over and grabbed my wrist, twisted it and said, "Maybe you don't understand what please means when I say it?"

When she's like this, there's not much to do but let her rant and just make sure she stays safe. There is no reasoning.  No using logic.  Distractions are a waste of time.  Yes, I tried.  She is currently trying to pick the lock on my oldest daughter's door.   She's using an empty toilet paper roll, so I don't think I'll have to defend the premises anytime soon. 

So, I'm sitting here hoping that she winds down before the day care van arrives.  I can't, in good conscience, let the driver deal with her when she's like this.  I've given the maximum dosage on her meds.  I just hope they kick in soon. 

No guarantees...

I gave Mom a slice of marble pound cake as a treat. After all, sweets are what they love the best, right?

After about 2 minutes of looking at it:

Mom: What do I do with this?

Me: Eat it. It's good.

Mom: Do you want it?

Me: No, thank you.

Mom: How good is it if you don't want it?

She picks a small corner off and puts it in her mouth.

Mom: Can I put this in the refrigerator?

Me: No.

Mom: What should I do with it?

Me: Just eat it.

Mom: How?

Me: Put it in your mouth.

Mom: The whole thing??

Me: No, just part. You can take a bite.

We go back and forth a few more times.

Silence.

Mom: What should I do with this?

Me: Eat it.

Mom: How?

Me: Take a bite.

Mom: With my NOSE???

Me: That's up to you.

It's been about 8 minutes and it's about half gone.

Silence. But, she's just holding it like someone handed her a dirty tissue.

Mom: What should I do with this?

Me: Could you please just eat it?

Mom: Why? So you can poison me?

Me: Just set it on your plate and I'll take it.

Mom: And that's why I haven't eaten in 3 days.

Me: Do you want it or not?

Mom: Who made you boss? Can't I just eat it without you pestering me?

Apparently not.

This conversation lasted about 15 minutes. She pulled off enough that there was only a squished piece about the size of quarter between her thumb and forefinger.

Mom: What should I do with this? 

No, I didn't give the obvious answer that I so wanted to give.  I can't guarantee my response next time. 

There is still one left...

Add another Burger King to the list of places that I can't take Mom.  This time the situation was mostly my fault.  Mom has become so picky about her food that I take her to fast food more than I normally would.  But, if she'll eat it, I will go. 

Her behavior is so bad in public that I rarely am able to actually go into a restaurant with her.  So, yesterday we went through drive thru of the local BK.  It was late afternoon and Mom was very agitated and delusional.  As we are sitting there, and I'm watching my sanity leave with each click of each minute going by, Mom said, "I'm only six years old and you have me locked in here.  Someone PLEASE give me some scissors."  She was going through the accompanying contortions of trying to remove the seat belt.  She is gesturing and screaming for her escape. 

Finally, the young man sticks his head out the window and says, "Could you do me a favor? Can you pull around to the front of the building and I'll bring your food out to you?"   The only thing that kept me from grabbing  the poor guy by the throat and shaking him was the many times I asked the same thing of someone in my own fast food working youth.  So, instead, I said, "How long?"  He sheepishly said, "2 minutes?"  I responded with no filters and said, "Okay.  But, if I kill my mother in that time, I'm holding you responsible." 

I only felt bad because I honestly didn't know human eyes could get that big. That looked really uncomfortable.  I'll bet he thinks twice before asking someone to move again. 

Will it be enough..

You know what I miss?

I miss the option of walking away to cool down when things get too overwhelming. No matter how bad it gets, how intense, how horrific, I am here dealing with it.  No cool down periods allowed.  Day care looks a long way away on an intense Saturday afternoon. 

You know what I wish?

I wish that I had a magic insulation bubble that keeps my family safe from the intense feelings that I am feeling.  I wish that in the heat of the moment that they could remember to just let me be.  Or if they can't, they need to not add to the intense feelings by getting angry with me when I lose my patience.  It's the same every time.  I am trying to hold it together and they get involved and I lose it.  I know I'm wrong.  I know that.  But, I can't handle the guilt of every bad feeling that happens in this house. 

I have nothing left.  Give me some space while I try to find more.  Until then, I'm sorry will have to be enough.