if not tonight, the clothes may be hung up tomorrow

So i'm tired, but i feel like i really ought to chronicle the events of last night. i could have done so last night, but by the time i finally stopped shaking and was able to lie down again, i hadn't the motivation.

i, well, i basically broke last night. It was progressive, really. mom has not wanted mary coming. This isn't a normal sort of, "i don't want her coming," this is an ongoing, persistent litany, a follow you around the house swearing, and begging, and crying chorus, a must have an answer and must have it now decree, a you hate me you terrible person indictment. It is, to say the least, wearing on a person. Couple that with bubs' depression (borderline suicidal) and general angst, and you can get an inkling of our family situation.

So yesterday i arrived home, and as soon as mary walked out the door mom told me she didn't want her. i was supposed to drive k to a town roughly forty minutes away to buy a purse (because i have no backbone), i know bubs has been cruel to mom lately when she drives him crazy (and thus don't want to leave them alone to make the trip) and it has been snowing. i ask k not to have us go, but she insists we have to, and makes me feel guilty. Actually she snaps at me, that i am a terrible person. i think she knows that this will get to me, and next thing i know i am driving her, trying no to cry, to buy the purse, worrying about bubs and mom at home. Just before i leave the house, bubs tells me he wanted to go down the road, but k. is more important. So i'm torn between guilt and guilt, with two people making me feel bad for not going out of the way to help them, and i'm just doormat enough to be torn.

The trip itself is not bad. Thank God!!!!!!!!! (for all!!!!!!!!!) that the weather is not so bad outside of our area, and we arrive back home quite early. mom wants to go out as soon as we get home (of course) so i take her to the store. It is after this that everything falls apart.

Let me back this up and state that from the morning's incident of begging, i had already driven to work crying and praying. So my emotional state was not very stable to begin with.

i shower, and go to make myself dinner. mom decides at this point that the dirt has got to be cleaned out of the dining room, right now. i start to help her, and ought to have continued, but she keeps finding new places, and i know this will happen. i start screaming at her, and begging her to stop around this point.

i went into the kitchen and reverted to an old stress relief habit. This, i suppose, ought to have been warning sign number one. i won't get into what the habit itself is, though v and xh could guess.

i am into the kitchen, and she follows me. i had started the washing machine, and made myself a sandwich. Even though i asked her not to, she opens the washing machine, and i am not certain that the spray did not get in my sandwich. Something snaps, and i throw the sandwich on the floor and start screaming, in that manner which starts as a yell but devolves into a wordless shriek of frustration. i then have to grab the bread off the floor, before she tries to eat it.

i get her upstairs to watch tv, but she won't stop the litany, won't stop the begging, the swearing, the blame. Anyone reading this may think me a bad person. Probably, i am. Until, however, you've experienced someone following you from room to room swearing at you, repeating the same thing over and over, off and on for days on end, until you've experienced being caught between someone who is depressed and needs to be bolstered, who has a hair trigger for anger, and someone who cannot help but be annoying, you don't realize how draining it can be. Still, i ought to handle it better. With more faith, i know i would. Lord, help me and give me more faith, please?

i came back downstairs after giving her her medicine, and shortly thereafter she follows me back down. It is now probably after ten o'clock, and i ask her to please allow me to go to bed. She continues to beg me to call mary and cancel, to let her call, to please call, to cancel and call. At a certain point i sit up and start to punch the windowsill. This isn't entirely unheard of, i have taken to occasionally punching walls, and even have prided myself in the fact that i have managed to make at least one dent. (If you're going to end up with sore knuckles, you at least want something to show for it.) This night it was the windowsill, and as she continued to go, i began to laugh, to cry.

This then went into probably the worst panic attack i have had since passing out in albania. i couldn't breathe normally, and when i got that under control the shakes began. It was either gasping or shaking, in cycles, for perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes straight, maybe more. It was bad enough that bubs asked if they were going to have to take me somewhere (presumably the hospital for the not being able to breath thing). mom calmed down enough to try to be helpful; bubs was helpful, but i had to keep trying to keep him from being cruel to mom, to force her upstairs.

In time i was able to lay down, to breathe, to stop shaking. mom went upstairs, though she came down twice more to get more medicine. (Fiber pill placebos are a gift of God.) This morning i awoke again to her begging me to call mary not to come. This was before seven.

Today has been a day of riding the emotional hangover. Thank God, though, that all has been good. The headache is gone, basically. i have sore enough knuckles to maybe keep me from punching things soon, but no serious damage. my arm smarts a bit, but nothing bad.

Best of all, bubs is on Easter break from school. mary wants to see her grandson, and has agreed not to come until Tuesday. It has been a much quieter night. Thank God for blessings!!!!!!!!!

and wait for their mothers.......

About an hour later i have a headache, my guilt complex is flaring up rather intensely, and i want to cry. It's time to find enough pills around that are harmless to convince mom she's taken enough to sleep (her tylenol pm is awol, and she's out of both her memory medicine and blood pressure medicine until tomorrow), find something to kill my headache (out of my tylenol too, which totally stinks), and go to bed.

Thank God!!!!!!!!! for a good day.

Thank God!!!!!!!!! it's over.

Lord, may we please have a good night, and good days to come!

sincerely,

-me.

it's not malaise

So far as i can tell, there are three followers of this blog, and i'm one of them. So there is probably little point, public wise, for even writing in it. Still, it's therapeutic, and i justify the excess of venting this way by means of the faithful reading of v. She reads, so i can still assume that i' m not only speaking to myself.

The word for how i feel tonight escapes me. It's not lethargy, not malaise, i'm not laconic, i'm not distraught. It's the low level lowness and lack of passion from the first three, without (thank the Lord!) the fervor of the last. i'm not happy, i'm not restful, i have the lack of desire to accomplish great things accompanied with the guilt that i'm not.

Then again, guilt is, and always has been, one of my closest friends.

Life here has been continuing. Thank God for all! It's really been going well lately. i like my new job; more importantly, they like me. The pay isn't amazing, but the people are friendly- it's a single mom's dream job.

So why am i thinking of quitting?

Now, Lord forgive me, i felt so strongly called to this job, and now i'm wondering if i ought to be leaving. It boils down to mom, and m., her caregiver. m. needs to go, apparently. A little over a week ago i asked the proprietor of a local restaurant where they eat how she treats mom when they're there. After demurring some, she told me that if i could, i should replace her.

Add this to the reports from others of impatience, her own mumblings to bubs about "how bad she is", and the fact that she tattles to me like a child when mom does things like refusing to go to lunch- "she said you told her she didn't have to"- and it's time for a replacement. (By the way, mom doesn't have to go to lunch. Why is this such a problem again????? Couldn't you bring your lunch?) Recently she told me that mom refused to go to lunch with her, so she went to get some, and she told mom to stay home. She was gone only about twenty minutes, and when she came back mom was walking across the park, and she didn't know where she had gone. She told her to stay put, and seemed to be complaining to me that it was mom's fault for not listening to her. Hello, you do realize you are being paid to watch over a woman with dementia, right? She probably forgot you told her to stay home five minutes after you left the house. This isn't even getting into my displeasure at this habit of leaving mom alone. She still counts those hours as paid time. i don't get paid for my lunch break.

So back to quitting my job. mom hates having mary come. Often she begins stating this fact right after mary leaves, begs me not to let her come before bed, and wakes up early in the morning to continue her pleas. She follows me around in the morning, swearing, crying, threatening, beseeching me to let her stay home alone.

i don't feel i can do this.

i worry, however, that she would behave similarly for anyone coming. It seems unlikely, as well, that she'll agree to ride with someone else to a day treatment center. At times i wonder if the best solution might not be for me to try to work from home, save the money for a caregiver, and just look after her myself. A few days a week i could drive her to the day treatment center myself, and work at the library or something. Flexibility. Lack of job security. Knowledge that she wasn't being mistreated while i was away. Knowledge that i was further putting off any sort of traditional steady career. Do i really care?

So it's time for prayer. and research. and prayer. and petition that God wouldn't be upset if i choose wrong. and gratitude that no matter what happens, He will still love us.

There's a freelance writer and editor site, which i think i'll peruse. i'll probably apply at one or two online universities, just to explore. Sometimes i think this all would be so much easier if i had a helpmate. i try to remind myself, often, though, that i don't need one. God is all i need, like the 10th avenue north song i love so much.

"Why are you looking, for love? Why are you still searching, as if I'm not enough?"

Thank You, Lord!!!!!!!!!, that You are enough!!!!!!!!! Forgive me for forgetting it!!!!!

okay, i feel a bit better now, for getting it off my chest. Thanks, v., for reading.

God is good, life is hard, don't get the two confused.

There's a certain degree of loneliness that comes of being a caregiver. It becomes a strain on friendships. Only true friends really want to hear the answer to the question, "how is your mom", when the answer is a long and technical litany of doctor's visits and medical symptoms. Even those who are interested in jumping through that hoop, may become frustrated when every phone call is interrupted multiple times by interjections to someone else. Then there are the problems with making social plans: the ability to only schedule activities when proper arrangements can be made, or when she can come along, the alteration of plans to accommodate this, the tendency to change or cancel plans at the last minute when it is a bad day, and the need to make outings short and ending prior to medicine time can all lead to an unwillingness to make plans at all. Some friends don't want to visit my house. Things were fine when i could visit theirs all the time, but the situation simply cannot be reversed. i find myself staying home much of the time, not necessarily by choice as people stop creating and following though with plans with me, and bonding with mothers, who might understand these factors. i find myself wondering where my friends went, and why they seem less interested in seeing me. it hurts a bit. i find myself longing for a romantic interest again, and struggling to remember that God may one day find and send a man willing to accept all this, despite how impossible it may seem now.

you have superficial relationships, and maybe some closer relationships. and, in my case, i have some very close ones as well, but many of them are far away.

i remember, however, that God is there. He has never left me, and He won't. He is alright with my life, and my plans, and is always interested in the details. He is always interested in spending time with me, and in hearing my voice. He will always help me out. He will always be my rock and comfort. He will always love me. He is all. He is all i need. And maybe, just maybe, He will fulfill my earthly desires for human companionship as well.

and sometimes, especially at night, when i see her sleeping in bed, and she looks at me, and thanks me, and tells me how much she loves me, i realize once again how incredibly worth it all of it, including the loneliness, is.

Thank You God for all!!!!!!! Please, Father, help us with all!!!!!!!!!!

i used to be afraid

At one point i might have said, were i really being honest, that i was afraid of being happy. The problem with being happy, is that you fear it will end. Now this isn't necessarily true anymore, and i can say that i thank God that i now have the underlying joy and peace which God offers, and which nothing can unseat, (though even now as i write that i pray that this won't be tested, and now something won't happen which will test and shake that certainty). The point of this, is that i remembered that yesterday as i thought upon the two "everything's lovely" posts i just wrote, and then things fell (mildly apart).

The morning, yesterday, was wonderful. We were babysitting the young daughter of a friend, we shoveled snow and had snow ball fights, we ran errands and sang Taylor Swift songs, it was great.

Suddenly, however, it all fell apart. We stopped at the liquor store, so bubs could get enough alcohol to get him through his birthday weekend. i tried telling him to only buy one case, that 24 bottles really were enough to get him through a weekend. Suddenly he freaked out and drove away, yelling at me for being judgmental, for making snide comments, etc., and drove off. He was in a bad mood then, when we got home. The little girl ran to play solitaire, unused to us yelling at each other. Bud, the dog, appeared to have a bloody spot on his face. i was trying to look at it, and asking bubs to check it out. Bud wouldn't approach him, however, because he could tell how angry and upset he was. So after trying to make him, i tried to check it out again myself, and he attacked me.

Only one other time in my life would i say i've been truly attacked, by someone truly trying to hurt me. That was a friend's boyfriend at the time, beating me with a suitcase. This was the second, though it could be argued that he was only warning me and not really trying to hurt me. Were he really trying to hurt me, he likely would have/could have gone through the sweatshirt and sweater i was wearing. As it was, the only physical reminder i have of the incident is two light puncture marks on my side. They are only bruises, really, he barely broke the skin. Bubs and i yelled him into submission, and into the kitchen, and he's been fine with me since. i'm still a little bit nervous though.

Things again began to go well. i got a lot done on our "office", the area upstairs that i have cleaned out and decided to make my study. Currently, i do not have a bedroom, so while the house is "mine", there isn't really a space that truly is. This study, it is planned, will be my haven, (though it's convenient location right outside of mom's room will both help and hinder this.) i picked up the police report (strange because they were processing a criminal while i was there, and i had to leave so he could be pee tested), made it home safely (the roads became covered again), and went to the library for a novel (cheesy Christian romance, how i love you.)

We then went to the pizza store, where i not only got my favorite eggplant parmesan sandwich, but another flirt session with the pizza guy. However, i chickened out of buying 2 six packs for bubs, having offered to buy it there instead of the beer distributor. When i only came out with 1, and he no longer then had the money to stop at the distributor, he was again angry with me.

Now people wonder why i'm so apologetic. i know why, at least i have a running theory. i want to make people happy. i am an inveterate people pleaser, at my core. This doesn't mean i'm always unselfish. Sometimes, i admit, i'm terribly selfish; sometimes i'm unselfish but resent it. These are things i need to work on, character flaws which must be rectified. What it does mean, however, is that when someone yells at me, or gets upset, and tells me that i'm at fault, i feel terrible. i take it upon myself, and try to find a way to please the other person, to rectify the situation. i internalize what people say. This can be more problematic in situations where, as with bubs, the other person lashes out frequently, but doesn't necessarily mean for it to torture me.

Unfortunately, also, some people realize this and begin to use it against me. Again, this is at least partially my fault- if you always act like a doormat, people who would not normally have done so will often eventually begin to treat you as such. The relationship just becomes warped. Actually, my college friends were the first friends i'd had in years for whom this didn't apply. That, whether or not these friends realize it, is probably why my family loved them so much my first year. They never treated me abusively, never made everything my fault, never spiked my drinks, etc.

This is part of why i'm so careful with romantic relationships as well. Though at least one of my friends denies this, i know, when i'm truly being honest, that i have the makings of an abused woman. Once i give someone power over me, they have that power, and they can wield it. i've seen it before, a narrow escape i made in my younger days. It all hearkens back to a run with my sister where she told me i was a human doormat and i would be an abused woman. i decided then that i would not be, and have worked against this since. My way of dealing with it through the years has been to toughen up, perhaps too much, and to be careful, perhaps excessively careful, about who i give any real power over me.

Okay, it's bubs' birthday, not a happy event in his mind, and mom is impatient. Life calls, the garbage must be paid, my cell-phone must be paid, mom must be fed, Mary must be paid, and mom's meds are due. It is time to get off a blog and move on.

Goal for the weekend: not to punch any more holes in the walls. That confession, however, must wait for a later post.

spread a little joy today,

Today we had no work, due to what they are calling a "snow-i-cane". It's just your average, run of the mill storm actually, big enough to cancel work for a day or two, not enough to cause people to talk about it for years (like the blizzard of ninety three). We are used to getting one or two a year, and this year, so historic due to the amount of snow everyone else has been getting, has been notable for us by the lack of such storms before this point.

During the blizzard of '93 i was at district band. i remember it clearly, partially because it effected the band festival and i ended up spending a night at home with my host family (we watched the olympics) that wasn't scheduled. i also remember it clearly because daddy came to the concert. he broke the law doing it, as the governor had closed the roads. It made me feel so proud, and so loved, that he would break the law for me.

K-love, one of my two favorite radio stations, has been talking about the five love languages all week. As i suspected, when i took the test my primary love language was service. Out of a possible 12, i scored a 2 on physical affection. That wasn't a terrible surprise either.

It does make me think about mom too. i think her love language might be quality time. She's always asking me to spend time with her, and sometimes she almost breaks my heart, asking me late at night or in the morning if i will stay home and take care of her.

This strikes me as a somewhat boring blog post. That's okay with me. Lord willing, things will stay good. Please Lord, please?

a sleepy blizzardy night.....

i'm sitting up awake, (a general state to be in sitting up, though, in truth, i'm not really even sitting) on a pre-snowy night. bubs is snoring, mom (i hope) is sleeping, i'm using a computer (see the part about bubs being asleep), and the golden girls is playing in the background. Thank and praise God, He is awesome!!!!!!!!!!!!

There's a chance we won't have work tomorrow. God has truly provided for me at work!!!!! It's nice to know that, if the weather is truly bad, we won't have to risk our safety. It's supposed to be a foot or more of snow through tomorrow.

i'm sleepy. it truly makes me happy to try and write here, and realize how very content i am, thank God! and praise God!

God is good!!!!!!!!!!