A Good Day

I said I’d start keeping track of the universe’s rare acts of generosity, and not forget to be grateful for them. Today was a a good day.

I took my mum out, and it was low stress. We got our nails done, I got a facial, and I solved some problems she had around the house. Feeling really lucky that my mum is in high spirits lately. I'm going to do my best to cherish this time in our lives and not worry about what the future holds.

When I got back to my apartment, I did a load of laundry and changed my sheets, made a to-do list, and went grocery shopping. I tried to keep the momentum going when I got home, but I got sidetracked by wikipedia. You know how it goes.

I'm not going to push myself too much, but I'm *really* hoping I can get my body to load the dishwasher so I have a clean slate set up to cook and meal prep tomorrow. Then be in bed by 2:00AM. That would be...such a win for me.

I wish I was capable of being this productive on the first day of my weekend instead of the last. Something about knowing I'm running out of time really motivates me to get shit done. But I don't want to get too greedy and start making lofty goals just yet. For now, I'm going to celebrate the fact that I get to climb into clean sheets tonight.

A Thousand Paper Cuts

"You look like your mother."

I've always loved hearing that. I have a gap between my two front teeth that I inherited from her. I fixed it in youth with braces, but it's slowly crept back, and I wear it with pride.

"You're so like your mother."

That's one I rarely hear. And if you'd asked me 10 years ago, I wouldn't want to hear that. Now, I find myself pleading for an ounce of her strength.

We watched my grandmother slowly pass. My mother was her primary caregiver, and she sacrificed so much to keep her comfortable. She made it look so doable. My sister and I had no clue what it took. She was working, raising us, caring for her mother, and doing it -most of the time- with a smile. She was superwoman. But there was so much she had to handle that I couldn't see. So much that she didn't let show in order to stay strong for us. And now, it's my turn and I feel like I'm failing.

My mother started showing signs of cognitive decline during the pandemic. I didn't want to believe this was really happening again. And to the person who I feel least deserves it. I mean, absolutely no one deserves this, but least of all her! Hasn't she been through enough? Hasn't she earned a happy life, and a dignified death? This was the stage where we started throwing everything at the wall. None of us were ready to take it lying down, but the pandemic made it difficult to make real progress.

A couple years pass, I start to think I'm no longer in denial. I thought I'd accepted it, and I was ready to take on the challenge. I thought this time I'll do everything right. I learned a lot and I know more about this disease, I have what it takes to face this and stand at strong at her side.

It's different this time, though. And every day that I think I have things under control, I am humbled again. Some days, I'm strong and capable; others, I'm weak and out of my depth. I feel like I'm failing more often than not. If it hurts this much now, I'm terrified of what lies ahead.

I can't shake the resentment of how deeply unfair it is that she has to slowly deteriorate like this. My hero whose greatest passions are learning and teaching others. A woman who has sacrificed so much, and did so happily because she loves to help others grow and flourish more than anything else. Why her? It's hard to rank, but I think that's what hurts the most. It hurts more than missing her, it hurts more than feeling like I still need her.

No one tells you grief compounds. For me, i'm cut once because of my empathy for her suffering, and again for my own suffering. Watching her slowly lose parts of herself is torture, but it's most painful knowing that she has to feel it happen. I know there will likely come a time when she forgets who I am. But I'm also worried I will forget who she is. I'm not ready for past tense.

When I started typing this, I declared that I don't feel like I'm becoming more resilient. But I realize now that this feeling comes and goes. Writing it all down helps.

In spite of the pain and fear, there are days when I feel hope. I feel grateful that I'm not alone; I have my sister at my side. I feel grateful that I've had her for 33 years, and that she has loved and protected me every second. I feel grateful that I have the chance to return even an ounce of the love, compassion, and care that she has given me. I feel grateful that I know for a fact that she loves me, that I know she's proud of me, and that she knows I feel the same for her.

I'm grateful she annoyed me. It's crazy how you start to miss the things that you used to find SO annoying about the people you love. She talked SO MUCH. She never stopped talking from the moment she woke up to the moment she fell asleep. It was almost like she knew there would come a day where she couldn't find the words anymore, so she wanted to make it count. I'm grateful that I had the chance to hear what she had to say. I'm grateful that I know she did pretty much anything she set her mind to in her life. That her regrets are few. I'll try to focus on these things, rather than the things she'll never get to do.

Whatever comes next, I'll try to remember to feel grateful that I get to be by her side as she inches toward the finish line.

Let's Do The Time Warp Again

I can't believe I'm back on tumblr after a decade! Wait...I'm receiving reports that I was active in 2022. That can't be right? It feels like it's been a lifetime. Too much has happened for it to be a mere 3 years; In fact, it's been 2 years and 4 months to be exact. Too much information has entered my mind for it to have been a paltry 28 months. I feel like Johnny Mnemonic when his memory capacity is exceeded by too much data and his chip overloads. Need to free up space to get my mind back

Let's see if getting back to blogging will help me orient myself in time, and calm my chaotic mind. I'm going to do my best to blog about the good things as well as the bad, instead of using this as a dumping ground for the horrors.

But if you're reading this, be warned: the horrors abound.

I'll probably use this as a traditional blog/journal for now. I'm sure theres therapeutic value in manually writing things on paper, but my thoughts are far too rapid and frequent for my poor little wrists to keep up.

My mind is a busy freeway and I'm just a little frog trying to make it across. Every time I put a thought in writing, one of my brain's denizens takes public transportation. Does that make sense to anyone but me?

Junk Drawer Thoughts to Explore Later:

On Dementia:

On Time:

On drugs: