This blog isn't a happy place, and while I never intended it to be a 'bash my mother' blog, that's what it's turned out to be. Or one of being overly honest about the dramas that play out in my extended family. I never thought I'd be part of a dysfunctional group of folks, but seem to be slap-dab in the thick of one.
Life is so hard right now. Everyday with my mom, the same.
My brothers suddenly are stirring like a disturbed nest of ants, playing catch up, telling me to be patient, getting madly busy--then they just sit. Calling the VA to get partial financing for her to leave, calling care homes, making noise about selling her house so we have money to pay to put her somewhere (they say permanently), which she's sort of excited about----seriously, anywhere but here...we're so mean and won't cater to her, my oldest brother giving orders for us to get the stuff we want out of Mom's house (who's been cleaning it out anyway, I ask?), calling the shots when all they've done for the past few months/years in regards to her care is next to NOTHING. Drives me nuts.
Here we are, slowly losing our minds with the daily routine of my mom's life. She does absolutely nothing. Doesn't even brush her teeth or wash her hands unless you remind her. She does put on makeup each morning, though. Doesn't balance in my head, for some reason. I'd rather be clean than beautiful, but who asked me? Exercise, no. Re-read the same papers in her walker bag, yes. Talk on the phone, oh yes. Drink her water, no. Sulk, got that down pat.
Please, please, please forgive my whining. I'm overloaded on natural supplements, trying to find a hormonal balance and had to delete Candy Crush from my phone since I've used it to soothe my overplaying mind. Get to too-high a level, though, and that's its own brand of annoying, especially when you can't complete it. Too much wasted time I can't get back.
Today is my watershed.
Have to realize, as the least one wisely pointed out, that my brothers' mantra is and always has been: 'Say soothing words to shut our sister up for awhile, then lather, rinse and repeat.'
Must put all this nonsense in the cardboard box I conveniently marked with the words 'bad thoughts.' It's a visual for me to use when life pinches. So far, so good.
Usually it's been my experience that when life bites too hard you have an out. A safe place. A way to manage all the stuff so that it doesn't drown you. Now I can't find one. And yes, I know the Lord is my safe place, but that's all inside. I so want the outside to change.
I look at my cardboard box, look at my mom, calculate her size versus the box. Sadly, no.