I should delete the previous post, and most of the others. I get in such a state and my attitude toward my mother is pathetic. Not very loving AT ALL.
My husband and I were praying in bed the other night. I said to the Lord, "Listen, I'm so sorry for being such a poor excuse of a daughter, always griping and mean. Really, so sorry for my anger and my wishing she'd just be gone....." My husband said to the Lord that the situation just sucked, then apologized immediately. Made me laugh. God laughs. Least I think He does. Probably. I was just laying out to the Lord how wretched I feel. Just plain hate what's going on, both in watching my mom fail, and having to be part of it day to day. And the wear and tear on my girls....they're different people since she's been here and it's not a positive. Not my influence, either, though my joy is so elusive anymore. Seeing the daily situations, not knowing if Mom will survive her TIAs or will even be alive when we go in her room in the morning. Constant anxiety. She'll have headaches like today and you wonder...another stroke, or just a plain old headache? You second-guess everything.
*Listening to Mandisa's newest CD. Just wonderful. Wonderful. Trying to get my head in the right place.*
My brothers were full of action, in word only and only for about ten minutes, since my last post. Most likely having my mom stay at a facility is way out of anyone's price range. Might as well be realistic about it. Nuts. Still, they could offer to take her for a brief time. Then bring her back.
May the Lord please take me to be with Him quietly in my sleep and before I get so broken in spirit and body. I do know I'd hate for my girls to dread seeing me each morning if I lived with them as an old woman. Shoot me now. Literally.
I still blame pharmaceuticals in part. Keep 'em alive at all costs. Being a person who avoids medication, not counting herbal remedies, unless danger lurks, it's unlikely I'll live forever, kept here because of prescription medicines. Not gonna happen.
To lay prone on the altar is what I need. A crying jag. Just let go of all this tension. Shout off a mountain top, or my ever favorite--throwing oranges. I feel so in control all the time. Stuffing my emotions. Tightly wound. Shoulder muscles hard as can be. Have to make myself exhale, even this very minute.
And while I could continue to beat up myself, I won't. Here's the deal: It's not my fault! Extenuating circumstances and it's not all about my mom. Lots more at stake than her well-being. Want to put my girls up higher into focus than they are at present. Casualties await if I allow my mom to continue to be the centerpiece of our home. That's why I'm so adamant to get us some relief. My girls need a break. Will continue to work on that.
Letting go. Need to let go.