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.

August 6, 2019

Coming to you LIVE from the Living Room

The hardest thing to grapple with my mother’s illness is that the woman who currently resides in her body is very much not like the one who raised me. This one is more like a petulant child than anything else. She’s argumentative and obstinate, who will do the exact thing you tell her not to do. It’s irritating and upsetting.

Her “caretaker,” for lack of a better word, (babysitter is more apropos but I refuse) doesn’t start until this coming Monday. The plan was that she was going to come and stay with me until Thursday, but last night she flat out told me she wasn’t going to stay with me. So I countered by setting up camera’s in her house.

I must confess they are incredibly handy. I can see most areas of her home and what it is she is doing, which is constant shuffling. And if I so chose I could get alerts to ANY movement. However, as previously mentioned, she never sits down, so the only camera that sends me alerts is the doorbell. I want to know if she goes somewhere, especially since I told her “don’t leave the house.”

The husband and I have dubbed it “The Ginger Show” ala the movie “The Truman Show,” because we can see what she’s doing at all times. And goddamn is it fascinating. Just the mundane things she does, aren’t so mundane when you realize she is mopping the floor with a padless Swiffer. Or she is readjusting the chairs for the third time, even though they haven’t been moved since the last time she rearranged them. But in my mother’s mind she is more than capable to take of herself. In fact, she is completing every task she sets out to do. However she can’t tell you why she thinks that, but she can tell you why she doesn’t use the things she once used, like a telephone or a T.V. remote. I dub this kind of activity “raging against the dying of the light.”

I know she refuses to see herself as old or infirm.  She doesn’t even believe that she has Alzheimer’s. Whenever she talks about it, it’s always “what you say.” I want to immediately counter with “no, it’s what the doctors say.”

When I switch over to the “live view” of whatever room had the last bit of activity and I just take a moment to watch what she’s doing, I am overcome with this immense sadness. Here sits a woman who is quickly deteriorating mentally, who has no concept of what is happening to her and refuses to admit that she needs help. If I believed in any kind of god I would pray she realizes she can’t do this on her own, but there is no greater power in this universe. Maybe there is and like these Ring cameras he just enjoys watching this shit show. But unlike me, he gets off on the misery.