I'm tired and I'm angry

I'm tired. I'm tired of trying to help someone who doesn't want my help and gets nasty with me. I'm tired of wasting my time. I'm tired of living with someone who wishes I weren't here. I'm tired of trying to make someone understand things they simply cannot. I'm tired of having to stay in one room to avoid conflicts. I'm tired of not having the things I love in this house with me. I'm tired of being asked to do things while I am working that could wait until later. I'm tired of being treated like shit when I leave the house to do things that I have to get done. I'm tired of waiting on everything to get better. I'm tired of spending my days off doing things for other people. I'm tired of being tied down. I'm tired of so many more things.

I'm angry. My anger has really grabbed hold of me and I can't find a way to let it go. I don't think I will let go until my parents are gone to a care home. It will probably take me a while to get over it then, a very long while.

I'm angry at my mother first and foremost. Our relationship has always been rather strained, gonig back to my teenage years or younger. I've been angry at her for over 40 years at being criticized, being not good enough, not living up to her idea of who I should be. I went to college simply to get out of my house, although I didn't know what I wanted there and didn't stay but a month into my second semester. I lived with a succession of boyfriends for the next 10 years, really only 3 long-term relationships, but I never could stand having to live in the same house with her again. I did have to for short periods of time, but only as long as it took me to get out from under her negativity again. I did need the two of them when I separated from my husband and needed help as a single parent, but got out as quick as I could again. I took financial support from them at times. I felt guilty every time.

I'm angry at my dad now, as well. I've had short periods of being pissed at him in the past, but have always loved him unconditionally. I find that that is changing. I'm receiving more and more of his anger towards me and it hurts. I don't want these feelings to get any worse.

And last of all, I'm angry at being forced into living this way. I'm angry at losing each day more of my life. I want to stop doing this and go on with what I have left of my time. I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to apologize for feeling that way, either, so I won't. As I said, I'm angry.

I'm done, I'm done, I'm done. Done with giving it my all. From now on, I'm going to take of me first.

The Frustration Mounts

Yes, it can and does get worse. Not that my mom and dad are worse than a month ago, just that I am not handling it as well as I was even 6 months ago. Apparently I am wearing down with frustration, still wallowing in self pity, and now even becoming angry about the situation that I find myself in. I am struggling more and more to keep a handle on my emotions. For a long time, perhaps the first year, I had been able to manage my feelings and remain on a pretty even keel. But the boat seems to be tipping more and more, and I find my resolve and determination slipping further and further towards the edge. I hope I can hold on and keep this boat from capsizing and sinking to my emotonal death. Let me explain.

Since my last post, I have been more and more depressed. My thoughts have been swirling faster and deeper towards the edge of insanity (or so it feels!). I still know there is an end coming to my situation, but the sadness at watching my own time slip away is taking a deeper grip on my psyche. I feel that at the age of 53, I should be enjoying much more enjoyable times. My son is 20 now, with a fiance (although that is possibly in doubt at the moment, which takes it toll on me as well), and I should be able to do many of the things that I have been looking forward to the past 10 years or so. I should have time to get out more and get back to a lot of things I used to enjoy doing, along with many things that have interested me over the years that I would like to try. I have lost all time and effort to pursue hobbies, gardening, outdoor activities, travel, etc. I see my years and body going downhill, and wonder if there will still be time to do those things before I'm ready to settle down into the slower retirement years. Sometimes I even wonder if I'll live long enough to have a retirement, much less do many of the things that I want to experience before it's all over. I need to get these years back, and soon.

Which brings me to my "vacation." I was working my last day of my work week a couple of weeks ago, when I remembered that I had a week off coming up very soon. In checking the calendar, I discovered that it began the next day! How sad, to be so engrossed in the daily grind that I hadn't even been watching for it and didn't realize it was already time!

The next day arrived, and I took care of my usual Friday business of picking up medications, going by my bank, even taking the dog for her long overdue grooming. Then home for the weekly battle with mother to get a shower in before taking her to the beauty shop. Surprisingly, she did shower (has gone as long as 5 weeks in the recent past) and got her hair done. As usual, since this is the only day of the week that she dresses and leaves home, we went out afterwards to eat. After ordering, I was making small talk and mentioned that I had the next week off. Before I even know I had the thought in my head, I said "why don't we go to Florida?" My brother lives near Destin, and has taking mom and dad down occasionally to spend a week or even a few to give me a break. They both love it there, and said "let's go!" Wow, talk about spur of the moment. I haven't been able to get out of town in several years because of my duties at home, so I was just overwhelmed at the thought! I could take them somewhere with me and let them stay at the house while I did "beach things." I was totally pumped.

I spent Saturday getting my ducks in a row. Laundry, packing, all the little odds and ends arranging to take an 11-hour trip with them. Getting all the oxygen bottles in the car. Going out and buying a power inverter so I could run the nebulizer for my mom 2 or 3 times on the way. Etc., etc. At any rate, we grabbed the dog, all freshly groomed, and got on the road Sunday at 8:00 and headed south.

The trip down wasn't too bad, a bit longer than normal, but overall good traveling. The last couple of hours got more and more tiring. Not so much the driving, but listening to my mom bitch and moan about how long it takes, her car would have been more comfortable, we would have already gotten there if we had taken her car, I'm hungry, I'm thirsty, I have to pee, etc. You know the drill, just like traveling with a small child. Anyway, we arrived safely and settled in to unwind. I enjoying reacquainting myself with my brother's home and he and his family.

For two days, I spent the biggest part of my time sitting with mom and dad. Phil had had almost no notice that we were coming, and he and his family are very busy and involved in a lot of things. I couldn't really get out because I hadn't been there in 6 or 8 years, and didn't really know my way around. I was getting very bitchy about losing all this precious time. The third day, I did get out with my sister-in-law and take a nice drive over to the beach, we walked out for about 15 minutes but it was scorching hot. And we were actually headed for some nice un-touristy shopping. In short order, we got back home for dinner and another long, boring night.

On the last day that we were there, I told everyone that I was heading out alone, and off I went. I spent several hours enjoying the coast, driving even to Seaside and doing a good bit of window shopping and actually buying some treasures to bring home. Listened to music blaring, air conditioning blasting, and enjoying the ride. I made my way home early in the evening, and got about the business of getting ready for the ride back home.

Now, we come to the trip from hell.

We got started about 30 minutes late in the morning (mother had to be really pushed into getting ready on time) and headed out. About 2 hours up the road, I was pulled over for a speeding ticket. Okay, what the heck. Proceeding on, I tried to make good time, but I was being sabotaged by mom, who was really fussing every hour or two to stop for one thing or another. Apparently she needed to pee, but was having trouble doing so when we stopped. I should add that this has always been a problem for her when traveling, but she would sit in the bathroom for ungodly amounts of time trying to go and not going (maybe she has a "going" problem!!). After 5 or 6 stops, I started to worry that she had a bladder infection, as she was also complaining nonstop about her back hurting.

Anyway, we slowly made our way up the road, with the gas stops, drink stops, grabbing something to eat on the go, and the ever present pee stops. I'll just say that we stopped 8 times that day (remember, this should be an 11-hour drive). Because of the many, many stops, we naturally hit Atlanta at 5:00 traffic on a Friday. Slow, but as I knew we were behind anyway, it didn't help to worry about it.

About 2 hours past Atlanta, we made a quick stop to grab a burger at another drive-through, and got back to business. It was almost dark when I heard that familiar rumble and realized I had a flat tire. Oh shit, could this trip get any more frustrating or any longer. By the time I unloaded half the back of the SUV to get the jack, I located the spare underneath the rear. About this time complete darkness settled in. I realized that I had no idea how to get it loose, and with the car pulled over on an uphill climb about a yard off the road (the flat was on the traffic side), there was no way I could change this. I had a hard enough time keeping my dad from coming out there with me as it was. Traffice was moving along at 65 to 70 mph beside me, and was a solid string still. So, I got in the car and tried to call highway patrol. Silly me, I don't know the number. So, I ended up calling 911 and asking to be connected. I told them approximately where I was, and began the wait.

The fools that I talked to didn't listen to me, and let me just say that after 2 hours of looking on the wrong stretch of road a bit past me, a very nice state trooper found me and quickly changed my tire. He even loaded the back of the car for me. So, after 2-1/2 of sitting there, I pulled onto the highway finally. By this time it was 11:30, and I was 3 hours from home. Shit. I went up the road and got some air in the tire (it was a bit low) took mom in for a useless attempt at peeing again, and got a fresh iced tea. Back on the road we went.

At 12:30, I realized that we were not going to make it to get home that night. I started looking for a motel, just throwing in the towel and giving up. After an exit with so many motels I was almost blinded (which were all booked for the Clemson crowd), I finally found a motel at 2:30 in the morning. We had left my brother's house at 9:30 that morning (our time). So 15 hours later, we got checked in, unloaded what we needed, and took the dog out to pee. I got in bed and turned the lights out at 3:00.

It took 2 hours longer to get home the next day. So, all in all, an 11 hour trip turned into 17 hours for us, along with a motel stay. I was completely exhausted, limp, angry, and totally defeated. I had lost my one free day to unwind before starting back to work on Sunday again. I wanted to cry, crawl under the house, or die, whichever came first. It took me 3 days to recover physically, and I have still not recovered mentally. I am more frustrated than I was before I took my "vacation," and now even more angry than ever at my situation.

Sorry for such a long post, but I'm going to bed now.

Here We Go Again

Yes, I've been gone for a while. No, not away from home (only a dream). I didn't take a vacation. Just spent a bit of time wallowing in self-pity. I reached a point lower than usual, and thought I was going to need a permanent change of venue. But, no other venue in town for me. I was happy to find out my sister was coming for a week's visit. So glad to have her here, she was always my rock and my mainstay, my touchstone. But, due to health issues of her own, she had not been here in more than 6 months.

So, she got to spend some time experiencing the joys of living in my world. She got to experience first-hand the wrath of both mom and dad. This was quite a jolt for her, as they have never behaved toward her the way they have with me over the past few years. She saw the hateful looks, got the nasty comments which grow into arguments, and saw the total inability to try to care for someone who doesn't understand what they need or their own incapacities, thereby rendering your efforts useless. My mother could out-argue an entire debate team. My father simply cannot understand the meaning of his Alzheimers. They combine into a lethal team of disbelief that they need help remembering what to do and why.

Back to my sister. Let's just say that by the end of the week, she decompensated in total pain and horror at what was said to her, and the realization that things have reached this point. She had no way to know where things stood, and therefore had questioned whether I was doing enough for them. I've been known to live my own life in the past and, in my family's eyes, be perhaps a bit selfish. Yes, it's true, but I chose to view this as not giving in to their idea of how to live my life. She had wondered if I just didn't want to do this job anymore, or if I was working hard enough to give them the right care. Although she never would have said this me, I suspected there might be some component of this. I couldn't blame her, because she couldn't truly know the situation after such a long absence. By the end of the week, she was apologizing profusely, and feeling twice a bad for having thought that way of me. Which, in turn, gave her more guilt about not being able to help with mom and dad. Her health problems mean that she can never care for them or take them into her home. That is devastating to her, as she had always thought that when the time came, this would be the natural progression. She has always been thisclose to our parents, and enjoyed them immensely.

Now things are different.

At least out of this comes more urgent thoughts about finding a safe place for them. My brother has wanted to bring them to Florida, where he lives, for quite some time, but they do not want to leave their house and go. We all know that they absolutely must, but no one has ever forced a decision on my parents (how can anyone?). He is now hearing the same thing from my sister and brother-in-law that he has been hearing from me, and is more aggressively pursuing this. How it will come about is not finalized, but it won't be pretty and we all know it. At least we are now all 3 working towards the same goal, and quickly. Wish me luck.

I doubt that many people will ever find this blog, so please understand that this is more of a journaling effort for me. I don't have many outlets at this point, and my mind is cluttered at times. I hope some day I will find the time to find myself again.

The name of groundhog day might need to be explained, for those of you who are not or have not been in this type of situation.

Each day is always different for both mom and dad. Each day is the always the same for me. I go through the same scenarios daily. Mom asks the same questions I answered yesterday, and seems so surprised to hear it all over. Dad has a very limited routine, deviations are almost catastrophic to him. I have to toe a very tight line to keep him on an even keel. At the same time, I never know what is going to come up between the two of them. Today, Mom found money in the living room chair where Dad usually sits. She showed it to him, and he grabbed it and took it from her. At which point, she reverted to her typical selfish and childish attitude, yelling that it was hers, she was entitled to her share of Social Security. Of course, she can't hear him talk to her, and he doesn't understand what she says to him. I, as always, try to referee them out of the conflict, to no avail. It seems of no consequence that she is never dressed or leaves the house to spend money, and that it must be his because that is where he sits. Boy oh boy, did I get in trouble for "taking up for him." Although this is a typical case, it is about something different every time, something that completely baffles my senses. I ended up walking away as usual, with at least some diffusion between them due to my intervention. These little interruptions in my work day exhaust me. I go back to the computer feeling confused, overwhelmed, and just tired.

The repetition of these things is what bothers me. The different things that come up are what confuse me. Anxiety is a constant companion. I have found Mom in her bed puffing on her nebulizer, when no medicine was put into it. Dad will fall asleep in the rolling kitchen chair, no telling when he will end up on the floor. Mother goes through the kitchen cabinets, taking things out to look at them, then walk away. Each night when I finish my 8 hours of transcription, I wind up in the kitchen cleaning up after them. I find all sorts of surprises that await me. I daily have to clean the toilet seat because Mom has made a mess. She goes in her diaper, and then goes to sit on the toilet and sits with a mess all over her bottom. Which usually ends up on the floor, too. Sounds trivial, I know, but for a woman who did not raise a large family, I am not used to working late into the night at housework.

The things that come up daily are very defeating. Finding the remote control. Looking for hearing aids (which are now lost forever). Explaining how the phone works, and then having to check it each time I go into the kitchen to make sure it is not off the hook, or lost. Explaining monthly statements that come in the mail, because even if I explained it yesterday, they would not remember.

I have realized that I cannot get out of this. This is what it is. As long as they live at home, it is going to be this way for me. Someone told me that at least there is light at the end of the tunnel. I replied, "But how long is the freakin tunnel?" No answer there.

Today I Begin

I take a leap forward in self realization. Today I begin to understand how much of myself I have lost, perhaps forever, in this journey I have undertaken. It seems two-fold actually, a leap forward and in an even larger sense, a leap backward in time. Backward in that I now seem resigned to accept the fact that I must, and probably already have, let go of many of my dreams and hopes, of seeing possibilities that might be, and actually facing that my first half century is gone forever. I can no longer think about the things that I want to do someday, because time is my enemy. My body ages and my mind is tired. Depression and sadness are my constant companions. My opportunities have slipped away while I was struggling with the actualities of the road I was on, making my choices with what seemed like little option for choosing another path. Wasted time while unsure of what I wanted to do. Being unsure when the right partner would come along, I chose randomly and ultimately paid the price of a failed marriage, single motherhood, facing economic ruin, and finite emotional resources to give my only crowning achievement, a beautiful son, what I hoped and always imagined for him. Facing the fact that he would now be an only child, now having a family of 2 instead of a house full of children, a loving partner, and valuable friendships. It seems so many of my decisions were less than optimal, and I now suffer with this realization and knowing how it is ultimately affecting my child and who he will become. I am sad for this in a way that goes deeper than any pain I ever imagined. So, hence, I call this a leap forward in self realization. I have now begun to accept these realities, resigned to this life that I call my own.

In dealing with this, I also come to realize that the task I have been given is monumental. I am overwhelmed by the inadequacies of my ability to care for 2 elderly parents. I simply don't have the resources within my soul to tackle the increasing needs for my time, my patience, my understanding, my love, and the fact that this is totally out of my control. I cannot make this get better. I have no choices, no options, no alternatives. My life is lost to myself. There are no joys singular to me, to be my own, to give me life and hope. The Alzheimer's robs a caregiver of that. The multiinfarct dementia ensures that nothing I do is quite right, good enough, or quick enough. The task of dealing with each of these conditions at the same time, between 2 parents, seems unsurmountable. My work suffers, my paycheck suffers, and now faced with the fact that I cannot afford to live anywhere but with my parents seems unconscionable at the age of 54. Their diseases rob them of the understanding that they need to live in a care facility, with many people and resources to give them a happy life. Robs them of the understanding that they can afford it. So, with 2 older siblings who live elsewhere and have led happy, successful lives, raising several children and now having grandchildren, who cannot easily or willingly come to help, I take on the task I always knew would be mine, the one to be the caregiver, in a home I have always hated to return to. Guilt and resentment runs deep in this house, within its walls, and I have no choice but to swallow it whole. The emotional support I receive from my siblings is invaluable, but lately it is not enough to keep me from falling into this dungeon of realizing my own limitations, my lack of options, and my lack of hope for any life of my own. So, in effect, I wallow in my self pity alone, with no outside contacts for support because I have no time to go outside the home to have any friends. Nothing to give to friends, so it doesn't seem prudent to try to become a friend to someone new. I hear that God doesn't give us more than we can handle, but God is not a part of this life of mine. I find it a bit presumptive to believe in something that has never had a place in my mind or heart. I wish I had the unwavering belief, that comfort that religion gives to so many, but it simply is not a part of my understanding.

I turn now to something that I don't exactly understand, this blogging thing, but I do believe in journaling, and as I don't write by hand anymore, I find it will be much easier to try this. Let this be a new beginning at easing my soul and perhaps find a small amount of comfort. Everyone needs to let their thoughts out, but some of us do not have any other outlet except anonymity of cyberspace. This is not meant to be a cry for help to anyone out there, but just an outlet for myself. It truly is no one else's concern with what has happened in my life. I welcome you to read if you must be a voyeur, and of course, if you feel like offering a comment, I would be overjoyed to hear from even a stranger, as it seems that is all I know in my life anyway.

There, I feel better already.