November 7, 2019

What’s the point if no one sees it?

I hate that I had to make my blog private. I did so because of the office politics that are current putting my husband under undue stress. However I wish I hadn’t, but I understand why it needs to be done for the time being. And it isn’t forever. At least that’s what I’m telling myself.

In “going dark” it has revealed to me that I do enjoy the telling of my own tale. I like laying bare my secrets in a digital space and not caring who knows, as long as someone “listens.” My blog is kind of like that woman in the supermarket who starts telling the cashier clerk all about the drama between her sister and her mother because the checker happened to scan the apple she purchased.

This (and other things) has weighed heavily on my mind lately and my first instinct is to run to the blog and lay everything on the table. Yet, knowing it will just be solely for me has made it where I don’t care. Well, not that I don’t care, more than I don’t see the point if I’m the only one who would ever see it. I’m not writing for myself. I like to write so that other people can read what I wrote. Plus… I’m sick of my own fucking thoughts, let someone else take them for awhile.

The block will exist here and on twitter until my husband is either hired or fired from his current position. And in the mean time I just need to remind myself that I am doing this for his own safety and peace of mind.

October 24, 2019

Is it still a birthday if they’re dead?

I’ve tried to write this particular post multiple times already, and for the life of me I can’t get it right. I want to it to be pensive and inspiring but it won’t be that. It’ll be another post from a person who’s lost a loved one.

The previous attempts had all the stereotypical tropes. I claimed that it didn’t feel real. (Which it doesn’t.) And that he would be back any day. (Which he won’t.) but right as I got to talking about my doubled responsibilities my brain shuts off and I am incapable of forming thoughts. Ill take the hint, brain. It’s too much.

Regardless, today is/was my pops birthday. He would have been 67, which to me is entirely too young. Some of the most influential women in my life lived to be 80 and 95. So 66 is far too young to pass. Especially since he wasn’t ready to die.

My father fell and hit his head. In a matter of hours he was gone and left behind a body that could only stay alive by assistance. Once that help was removed (by my request) he was gone in less than a minute.

He wasn’t old enough to die.

The thing I battle with the most is do I miss my father or do I miss that my father cared for my failing mother? The second feels so cheap and selfish and if that is the case I hate that person. But it is very possible. Since his passing the burden of caring for my mother has fallen to me. And only me. And I don’t want it.

Today though… it is very real that I miss my dad. I miss his trademark laugh and sigh I could get him to do. (I loved making him laugh.) I miss that I won’t be getting him a birthday card. I miss that he won’t get to go to Red Lobster for the all you can eat shrimp and only getting one additional order, which he would take to go. (This is genuinely making me laugh by the way.)

I wrote on twitter the weird pattern of my patriarchal line of poetry… I am the age that my father was when I was born. And I am also the age he was when he lost his father. The same amount of time existed in our hello and goodbye. (I suppose it always does though.)

October 19, 2019

Midnight Mumblings

Life right now seems impossibly hopeless. At one point in time I was not concerned with current affairs or about politics in the slightest and now I cannot stop myself from devouring everything I come across. And all it does is make me feel more hopeless than the thing before. I want to believe that sanity will be restored and we will return to the rule of law but I don’t think it ever will. This crazy train is heading straight for hell and it won’t end until we’ve all been annihilated.

I hate to sound so bleak but it’s all I can think about. Everyday more shit happens, worse than the day before, and nothing is done. It’s like everyone that has any power just throws up their hands and go “what am I supposed to do?” Almost like a parent whose child is throwing an epic tantrum in the super market.

This year has truly been the biggest shit show and I’m 100% certain that it isn’t done dropping steaming pile after like onto me and the world.

All I can think about is the speech Samwise recites at the end of Two Towers and the hope he speaks about even when everything seems lost.

I need a Samwise. I want A chubby, gorgeous man, who loves potatoes, and doesn’t like to dance to come to me when I’m at my lowest, and tell me it’ll be alright.

Right now feels like darkest of times. And what’s unfortunate is it can only get worse.

October 14, 2019

Familiar Strangers

It almost seems as though my mother has a list of specific “Dementia To-Do” items she must accomplish. At first it was leaving the gas on all night and now we’ve moved onto inviting strangers into her house.

The event happened in a small window of time when my mother’s care taker went home (aka next door) to take care of some business. When she returned my mother informed her she had invited a man in. Panicked, her caretaker texted me immediately and asked me to review the tapes to see if she was telling the truth or if it was a delusion.

I immediately went to the ring app and followed the trail of recordings to see that she was telling her the truth.

When I questioned her about it the following day, she told me that she thought it was my “friend Josh.” I just let it go because I could tell she understood the gravity of what she had done. I also think she would have gotten upset if I had pressed her further, so I let the subject die. Hopefully this is a fluke, but I’m certain it will happen again.

As I review her response a few things pop into my mind. The number one thought is, is she lying to me? For someone who was so honest before her disease took over (so much so that she told me when I was 4 that there was no Santa Clause, cause she hated lying to me), she has become the polar opposite of that. She has no qualms with bending the truth or flat out denying things to me now. She will send them out without any remorse because the ultimate goal (in her mind) is to preserve her presence in her home. Any negative action on her part threatens that. And quite frankly it does.

The reason I think it was a lie is because when I reviewed the recordings she never once made any cues that she thought he was my boyfriend. She just offered to let him sit on her porch and read his book while he waited for his friend, who was at the neighbors house. Then when he followed her up the walk she (without hesitation) invited him inside. Once inside he asks her if she’s ever read the book “Fight Club.” The video ends and five minutes later the next one begins with him leaving and rejoining his buddy out front. She stands intent at the kitchen sink doing something (I know it’s not dishes because she only rinses utensil and plates and puts them back in the drawer.)

The other thought that has been percolating in my mushy gray is, did she really believe that it was him? And if so, did she really believe he was just hanging out in front of her house, hoping she would come outside and invite him in? Did she really believe that this short Latino man looked like my tall German-mixed boyfriend? If she did, does that mean her visual recognition for faces is starting to wane?

My mother has a telephone made specifically for those with dementia. There is a grid of 9 faces that when one of them is pressed it will dial that person. On Sunday, she said she was trying to call my cousin but instead called me. She seemed genuinely flustered on the phone when I answered so I don’t think it was her trying to “con me” into feeling bad for her, but a genuine accident. As I mulled that incident in my mind, I started to wonder if it is in fact the beginnings of my mother losing her ability to recognize faces. However, that is hinged on her believing this stranger was Josh.

Regardless of the correct answer, it is very apparent that my mother is quickly becoming a danger to herself. The only logical step from here is to put her into a group home. She needs constant attention and care, of which I cannot provide. Not to the level that is required.