September 12, 2019

Midnight Terror

These trials of error with my mother living “on her own” are proving my initial response to be the only course of action.

That past few days she’s missed her anti-psychotic pill. Either it gets caught in the crook of her finger and she misses it, or she’s deliberately not taking it. I don’t believe it is the second because she’s very good when given instruction. Regardless, it has brought back some of the hallucinations.

The woman we hired to intermittently care for my mother throughout the day informed me this morning that my mother told her that she awoke to a man standing in the room and a disembodied female voice telling her “he’s not supposed to be here.” This little episode holds true to a video I previously viewed last night.

After Jessica (the caretaker) spoke to me on the phone about the missed medications, I went back through the recordings to see if she had woken up at any odd hours, which indeed did happen. I noticed that she had awoken at a quarter to one, and when I viewed it I saw my mother panicked, rushing from the bathroom whispering “oh, god. Oh, god.” She hurriedly climbed into bed and wrapped the blanket around her. The video ends there. So I don’t know what else had occurred after until the next video showed my mother moving in her room at 3:30 that same morning. Upon reviewing those I just saw her organizing the things in her bedroom, which she tends to do during a manic episode.

There was only one video from last night where she awoke, again, around 3 A.M. In it she is standing at the edge of her bed looking around at what seems to be an unfamiliar place. There is panic etched into her ghostly white face. Again, the video stops recording before I see what she does next. However I can only conclude she got back into bed because the next video recording isn’t until 6 A.M.

All of this could be remedied by getting her into an assisted care facility. I haven’t broached that subject with her (even still) because she is adamant, without hearing the term “facility” or “home,” that she wants to be at her house. And I understand that. She wants familiarity during a time when she’s lost the man she spent 24/7 with while simultaneously navigating losing her identity. I want to give her what she wants but… At what cost? Either I pay an insane amount of money for her to share a room in an unfamiliar place, which would cause terror, or continue on this current path and have her terrified there.

Every day I curse “god” and life for laying this bullshit at my feet. I am caught between what should happen and what my mother wants. I want her to be happy, but in the end nothing seems to make her happy. The one thing I dread doing is moving the husband, the K-9 brood, and myself into the house. That I absolutely refuse to fucking do. I keep telling myself “I want to live in MY house,” but isn’t my mother saying the same thing?

September 4, 2019

Hurricane Josh

I genuinely feel as if I am going insane. Last night I got into what I have now coined a “thought hurricane.” Everything I could be worried or concerned about started swirling into a category 5 storm in my head. It started out as panic to why my aunt hasn’t answered my two messages about my mom staying with her, to which spun in the possibility of my mother’s care taker trying to take advantage of her financially (although she has not given me any reason to believe so.) All of these thoughts swirled around so much that I was doubting everything that was real.

To add to the chaos (for whatever reason) I decided to shave off all the hair on my face and torso. (I left the hair below the waist, I am a lady after all.) What I can gather from that little episode is trying to take control of things in my life I otherwise do not feel I have any real grasp.

This morning the storm had somewhat subsided, but I got a text from my mother’s caretaker that she had left the gas on last night and when she came for her morning visit, to check on her, it reeked of it. It had been just slightly on all night. I had to take a trip to the house and tell her to not cook, to which she responded by giving me a shitty expression. She refuses to accept her new reality and is fighting against any effort I set forth.

I don’t want to put my mother into care because it’s not what she wants. And I respect that. But at what point do I stop listening to her and just do “what is right?”

This past Friday evening the husband and I took her to the ER. She has been complaining about bad stomach pains any time she eats. When I arrived to take her she was happy as a clam. She even rated her pain as a 1 to the attending nurse. (Shoot me.) The trip was almost a waste of time. It turns out she has a UTI and then I got further confirmation from the doctor and nurse when they said “she lives at home?” Even they were perplexed why she wasn’t in a facility.

All of this is my personal hell. I am left holding all the responsibility. And I am the one who ultimately has to make the choice when I cannot. I take too many voices into account and give equal weight to each. Which in the end just makes the scales even with no real conclusion.

August 29, 2019

Running Away

I really wish I could run away from my life. I would drop everything and disappear into nothing. I’d clean out what cash I have out of the bank, ditch my cell phone, and drive to a town I’ve never been to, as far away from “home” as possible. I’d change my name and be someone else entirely.

All of this is fun in theory but the moment I start to break it down logistically it’s almost impossible. And in the end I would ultimately miss my life, my family, and my friends. It’s just at moments where I feel so overwhelmed that it would be nice just to get a breath of fresh air away from the baggage and bullshit that consumes my every thought.

I have been described as a very cerebral person and they are not wrong in that assessment. I very much am, to my own detriment. I pick apart of every situation, word, choice and future as much as is humanly possible. Yet in doing so, I drive myself mad. I wish I could stop but nothing I do silences my inner monologue. (Podcasts or comedy albums sometimes help.)

What I find most confusing is there is nothing at this moment that is too overpowering; well at least today. This wanderlust just fell over my shoulders for no apparent reason other than it’s been awhile since I felt like garbage. So instead of leaving my life behind I’m going radio silent for awhile. I just want to be left alone.

August 28, 2019

Where Do the Details Go

There is something wrong with my mind. More precisely, my memory. I have been one who could recall names, places, faces, and facts without any trouble. It was like my mind was a rolodex and all I had to do was give it a spin and I would land on just the right information every time. Yet lately it seems likes these mundane facts have left me coming up empty.

The one that frightens me the most is facts and details of things I myself have created, yet cannot recall. For whatever reason I started recounting all of the different “lands” I’ve created while writing stories, and I could remember all except one. To this very minute I still cannot tell you what the name of it is, and for this particular series I fleshed out an entire thousand year history that culimanated into the events of my short story turned novel. At one time that was something I knew in intricate detail. Now I can’t even tell you where all of this fictional bullshit took place.

I am aware of how overdramatic I sound. This is not a real cause for concern. But dealing with my mother’s rapid slide into dementia, I have become hypser sensitive over the slightest change in my own memory recall. It leaves me asking am I too going to suffer from this disease? Or worse, is this something external that is not only fueling my mother’s memory loss but now having an affect on me?

I am sure the answer to this is a simple one. My sudden missing mental notes are due to either age or just overall stress. Lately I have come under a lot in regards to my dad’s sudden an unexpected death, and my mother’s mental collapse and unrelated health issues.  I’m sure (and hope) that once all of these things have calmed and my mind is at peace these details will return to me and I will be just as sharp with my mundane facts as I ever was.