You know how it looked when Lucy Ricardo tried to make pizza, or when you tried to imitate your parents doing it as a kid — you’d beat, roll, and run over the dough, tearing it apart and making a mess? I feel, particularly today, like I’m the dough and everybody and my responsibilities to them have been doing that to me. And after they each get their corners and ends, what do I get out of it…I get thrown and burned into the hot oven!
I’m excited that I was accepted into my online Gerontology grad program starting next month. Some new med regime has been beneficial to my IBS and colitis problems, as well as my limiting coffee to one cup each morning and devoting the rest of the day or evening to decaf green or peppermint tea. I can handle, talk with, and do work for presidents, vice presidents, deans, instructors and students at my job…but when it comes to dealing with my elderly caregiven mom emotionally…..all the buttons get pushed.
Some days, like this one after visiting her tonight, I feel I wonder how long I can do this. I constantly feel threatened, that my own life and health are going to be rolled over or ripped away from me. My mother is really, really hurting emotionally and mentally — she continues refusing any offers of help from me to consider outside activities or socializing, and remains almost 4 years later to be entombed by grief, anguish and loneliness over losing my dad. I DO understand that’s her reality. When I try to follow what she shows, reads, and tells me when I see her, I don’t mean to feel emotionally worn out because I’ve already had a full day of multitasking 19 ways, for 50 people, and handling my own constant pain and fatigue. How much can one person do: one her, one me? I can do SO MUCH for my mom, and gladly so, with helping with her affairs, appointments, repairs scheduling, finances, bills, elder services, and all. But I cannot get into her mind and make her decide to be happy or to focus on happy events and to take care of herself emotionally. But by default, I get the emotional wave’s worth of negative build-up crashing down from her on ME. This is my middle age? It’s not caregiving FOR her that is killing me…it’s emotionally trying to COMMUNICATE with and ENDURE her anguished state. It’s like a road which is only built like a round traffic circle, forever.
OMG! This is my Mom. You aren’t alone and neither am I. The only difference is Mom is here with me. I have allotted her 2 hours a day and a phone call in the evening which is another hour, plus doctors, (she has kidney cancer and osteoprous) errands and if she is lucky visitors, which I cook and entertain for and she gets angry at me if I talk too much, getting her out for lunch is a chore and groceries once a week. I know this road I’m on is til death do us part. I have had no life for 10 years, and it’s the same old, same old. I never for a moment thought that my Dad’s death would change my life totally, and not for the better. I thought we would be happy ever after but the reality is very much different, I guess if she was living someplace else I would be traveling to visit her. I have a brother who visits once a year and calls her every two weeks. Of course he was always the cherished one.
Anyway it’s nice to know I’m not alone and have found this site.
Hi Linda and Gary–Thank you both for articulating what can be the absolutely worst part of caregiving. I know this seems truly impossible today: But, good things are happening for you so that, when the time is right, the good things will be right there, right in front of you. When you see them, you’ll think: Where did these come from? They came when you were caregiving and then waited for you, knowing you are worth the wait.
I am a health professional, you would think I can handle anything, but caring for my elderly Mother drains every inch of emotion from me. Mom is physically fine but always have something to complain about. I work 8-10 hours a day outside of the home and put in another 6-8 when I get home.
How do I get off this treadmill. Once I am home (she live with me now-have an aide in the days), she expects me to answer at her beck and call. She is rarely pleasant and never seems appreciative.
I get really angry with the whining and the crying and not asking for what’s really needed.
I feel so guilty about the anger. Maybe this site may help
Hi Maria–I’m working on a blog post with suggestions for you; I’ll have it posted tomorrow. Hang in there…