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She is NEVER anything but vicious, saying unspeakable things about her sister, blaming my brother's wife (not his decades of heavy smoking) for his death, and blaming me for every misery she and my father had for the last decade before his death from cancer. Even the cancer is my fault. Everyone who refuses to support her fictitious reality is a liar and "mentally sick."
She accuses absolutely everyone who comes near her house of stealing from her--when in fact, the truth almost always turns out to be that she hid things and forgot. She claims not to remember any of her misdeeds or cruelties, and concocts preposterous allegations out of thin air against the very few people who bother with her anymore. She gaslights anyone who dares to mention the horrid things she has done--it simply never happened and is a hurtful lie told to be cruel to her.
She has no friends. She allowed no friendships while my father was alive because she was convinced that every female was "after" her husband--even her sons' wives and nurses at the hospital. She has despised every partner her children have had. She wants visits from her children (and grandchildren) only, but spouses are not "allowed" in her house. She screams at her 80 y.o. sister and threatens physical violence. She abused my father while he was ill and kept him a virtual prisoner. She verbally, emotionally and physically abused me as a child, until one day, at about 15, I had enough and smacked her face and her glasses went flying and smashed and then I picked up a dining chair and smashed it on the floor. I wanted to smash it over her head. She never hit me again.
She never has anything positive to say, nothing is ever enough, and she loves to threaten to "cut off" people she is supposed to unconditionally love. Any attempt to call her on her behavior results in instant boo-hoo, poor me, blubbering--she's always the victim.
I have to keep my child away from her to keep him safe. I cannot leave her alone with my child. I caught her interrogating my child when he was a toddler, trying to get my child to say his father hurt him. Nothing could be further from the truth. She actually wanted me to *give* my child to her to raise (and she was in her late 70's and my father was practically bedridden with terminal cancer)--and this is a woman who did not bother to see me while pregnant, nor be present at her grandchild's birth. She tried to convince me how much better my life would be without the nuisance of a child (that my spouse and I planned!).
Sorry to ramble, but my mother is a waste of oxygen, brings nothing but pain and heartache to everyone, and I will rejoice and be deeply grateful if I outlive her. She has never done anything but damage to anyone in her life.
For so many, her death will be the end the pain she inflicts, and we can finally start to heal.
I know that sounds really awful. At first, I really was happy that they had saved her life, that she was alright and stable, and she finally looked and acted alright, much more 'normal' for her stage of alz... it was a relief.. at first.... Don't get me wrong, it's not that, on some level anyway, I wasn't happy to be able to be there for her... I was. I'm glad that I'm big enough to give what my mom would never give, to anyone, for any reason... Her relatives took care of her mother in her declining years, when she had cancer and was totally blind... Mom was here in the states. I remember my grandmother fondly... Anyway, yes, I'm happy on some level that I was big enough to dig deep enough to find what it took to do what it took. I was determined that my mom would be comfortable, clean, well looked after...I tried my best the last couple years she's been really bad to do my best for her, just because she's human...
But....
The toll.
The toll.
The toll....
OMG. I can't describe the toll this has taken on me personally, and I mean literally on all levels. Yes, I have learned some lessons on this journey that are priceless...but the price to my health, in all ways, was almost as great...
I am in a deep, black funk right now. It's just worries and worries and more worries, that never seem to stop. I do have some issues in my life worked out, but then it seems like new issues pop up...
I feel an almost desperate need to start...doing something... I really want to get further educated and start working... I feel such an intense need to do that, but.... I can't. Not now. I'm in this godawful LIMBO.. I can't make a single solitary move until I know for a fact what I'm going to have to face, possibly in the near future, concerning my mom.... Some lady called, talking insurance stuff, and my mom might have to come back home. Every single time I think about it, I shudder...
I am totally and completely enjoying this time, and no, I don't feel guilty, not one single iota. Not for that joy. I won't feel guilty about it.
I've learned that there is indeed such a thing as giving too much... Giving is good. It always will be. Maybe in RL wars it's alright to give your life for your country if you've sworn to do so ahead of time... But no one on the planet has the absolute right to every single bit of you, down to the damn marrow.
I do not owe my mom my LIFE, down to my last freaking breath. .
Sean, my son, and I had a discussion. I told him straight up that I could not, and would not, look after my mom in this house another single minute, ever again in this lifetime. I told him honestly that I just, literally, wasn't healthy enough myself, that I just couldn't even begin to imagine, that minute, trying to dredge up the damn energy to deal with my mother yet again... I want to curl into a little ball and start begging for the torture to stop.... Hers and mine..
I am drained dry in every single way there is to be drained. I did my best. I did so damn well that I feel I was, and could be still, on my way to a rather early death..
NO. The end.
Do I wish my mom would die? I've asked the One to please, please, make death happen softly for my mom, in her sleep, hopefully on some good drugs to keep her peaceful and calm, never knowing what hit her...
...but make it happen. Alz is a long, ugly slow ride into death. It's ugly, and those who deal with it get it. I'm weary to the bone of it. I feel like I could sleep for a year..
I've been surrounded by death, and pretty much isolated in this house for years, with no real contact with the vast majority of the outside world... I'm dying, too.
I've asked the higher power for two things for myself... Peace. And just a few good years of life and health, it didn't have to be that many, but.... a few good years without my mom in my life seems like a nice reward from God for a job well done...
When I was a teen I told our neighbor Sonja that I would never be free until my mom was 6 ft under. I didn't realize at the time how literal that really was going to turn out to be...
I don't hate my mom, all that mess is pretty much gone now... but... really? Her life isn't really a life anymore... So yeah, sometimes I do wish that my mom would just quietly pass... for all our sakes...
One day there was a ministry inspector at the NH. They attend yearly and pick 3 people to ask if they have any concerns, meaning about the home or their care. Mommie Dearest said yes, I don't know where the money went from the sale of my house ... she was kept up to speed throughout the whole process. That brought the government down on my head like I was a common criminal. Of course I presented paperwork showing where the money was invested and that was the end of that
Due to all the stress I blacked out doing 85 in my truck. It only lasted a few seconds but it was a wake up call. It was many weeks before I felt confident enough to drive anywhere but the tiny nearby village. I changed my phone number and made it unlisted so she couldn't get at me any more though I continued to run her errands, filled with dread for a couple of days before and drained for a couple of days after. I have carpal tunnel and went to the doc to see about getting my hands fixed but my blood pressure was dangerously high ... go figure! I was supposed to go back for a recheck and, if it was still, high, get some meds (which I hate the thought of).
She passed on September 12, 2015. I was so happy she'd gone and a lifetime of nightmare was finally over. The palpitations and thundering stomach 24/7 quickly went away. I'm getting my life back together and I've decided to take a few months to recover. I live in the country with 2 dogs and 4 cats and will spend the next while organizing my tiny home and planning veggie gardens for spring.
I'm an only child and friends are mostly far away. I get invitations but Christmas will be just me and my beloved critters, peace and quiet, wood stove going, a nice meal and watching old movies. This Christmas is ours, free of the terror once and for all.
Yes it hurts.
My mom won't accept any help, assistance but calls me for every issue as if I should resolve all the big stuff because I'm her daughter. I get all the grief and anger and others or my brother who has nothing to do with her or even a phone call is praised or excused.
We both wish it were over. She's terribly unhappy, lonely and unwilling to change her circumstances. I often envy when someone tells me their parent has passed. I honestly pray for that release for my mom and our family. I know she is ready to go as well.
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