Drinking, Drugs, and Skydiving

I’ve mentioned that my grandmother has Alzheimer’s. I’ve been helping my mom take care of her for the past five years. On Monday she had a stroke and was unable to communicate with my cousin or myself. She had fallen off her bed and was unable to get back up. We could tell she was in pain, but we didn’t want to move her because we didn’t want to further damage anything she may have broken. We sat there while I was on the phone with 9-1-1, waiting for the paramedics to arrive. None of us knew what to do. My cousin was a mess. She could do nothing but cry. I’ve never been good at comforting others. I can tell jokes and make smart ass remarks all day to make you laugh, but I’m not a hugger and never have been. The only thing I knew to do was to give my cousin one of my anti-anxiety meds to calm her down.

My grandmother is still in the hospital. It was determined she did indeed have a stroke and she has bleeding on the brain. We’ve been told it’s only a matter of time and that we should be thinking about hospice care for her at this point. I’ve made my peace with it. I think it will be a relief to myself as well as my mom. I don’t know what triggered it, but I had a breakdown tonight, just thinking that “So that’s what life has in store for me if I live that long?” I want know part of it. I was looking up states where it’s legal for assisted suicide and I believe that’s what I want to do. I’ll sign whatever papers I need to in order for someone somewhere to take me out of this world if I can’t do it on my own.

I don’t want to be trapped inside my own body that’s no longer working. I don’t want to be trapped inside my own mind half the time already. I mentally shut down tonight and could do nothing but let the tears flow. I guess I’m only human after all and I hate it. None of us are getting any younger. I try to ignore it and mask whatever pain I feel because of it with whatever drugs I have readily available, whether they’ve been prescribed to me or I’ve bought them from a friend or a friend of a friend.

I don’t know how normal people deal with life sucking so much, but I’ve found my way and it’s through substances; substances and sleep. I just want to drift off into darkness until the next day arrives and do it all over again. Is that what we all do? Does everyone just find ways of distracting themselves from the pain of reality and daily life? Do we all take whatever drug is thrown our way whether it’s pills, alcohol, sex, sleep, television, etc.? I even wonder about people who jump from airplanes and parachute and bungee jump. Are they just looking for some type of escape from the emptiness that consumes their lives?

How can we judge people who take drugs or drink when we’re all just looking for our own way to get by in life?

Things Are Great … Until I Wake Up

I’ve shrunk back into my shell as of late. I don’t want to talk to anyone or go anywhere. I don’t think a lot of people get that. They say they understand, but I don’t believe they do. “I understand. Do you want to talk about it?” isn’t understanding. I just want to be left alone. I haven’t been online or answering texts or anything of the like because I just don’t want to.

The depression has set back in again on top of the stress of looking after my grandmother, which gets worse with each passing day. I have to make sure she’s not wandering outside, which I just caught her trying to do. It’s hard to find time to take a shower because in those few moments that I’m in the shower I don’t know if she’s going to slip out the backdoor and try to go on one of her little adventures to God knows where.

The only solace I seem to get is from sleeping every chance I get. I go to bed earlier and earlier just so I can ignore the world, ignore her. I look forward to her bedtime because it means she’s not going to hurt herself in some shape, form, or fashion. It’s nice when she keeps herself busy by sweeping or something of that nature. She does that for a good 45 minutes to an hour, but once that’s been done she’s looking for something else to get into. I said before that I swore I’d never have children, but taking care of her is just like taking care of one. We’ve even discussed putting locks on the cabinets because she’s been caught twice trying to drink dish detergent.

I see my psychiatrist tomorrow so I suppose I’m going to have to tell her all about how my moods have plummeted since the last visit. I have been without my meds for a few weeks so I don’t know if that has something to do with it, or maybe I just want to feel numb to all of this. I want to sit down and space out and not really be here. I don’t want to be in my head, either. I just want to be far away mentally. Maybe hypnosis would help? I don’t know if I really believe in hypnosis. I just want to be happy, or content at the very least. I don’t want to struggle day-to-day with all of these intrusive thoughts that I have. I don’t want to worry anymore about what tomorrow is going to bring.

I just want to check out. I want to call it quits. I know I can’t, but how I do think about it daily. Like I said, the only solace I get is when I’m sleeping. I remember something a friend of mine said a while back when I asked how he was doing: “Everything was going great until I woke up.” I know how that feels all too well. We laughed at the comment back then, but as the days pass by it’s not so funny to me anymore when it’s my reality.

When you’re torn between not wanting to wake up and not wanting to die, either … what do you do?

I Like the Way You Work It. No Dignity.

Everything is testing my patience today. For one thing the two dogs are restless and I just want them to settle down for the night, but that’s not my main issue. That’s just a minor inconvenience at the moment. They’ll eventually calm down. The main problem I’m having is family related. I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned it before, but my grandmother has dementia. I’ve been helping my mother take care of her for the past five years. My grandfather had it as well, but he passed three years ago (or maybe it was two years ago. I can’t remember.)

The rest of my family lives in their own little world of denial and seem to think that she’s going to get better. There’s no cure for dementia. It gradually gets worse until the person’s brain pretty much just withers away and they die. No one but my mom, my sister, and I see this for some reason.

At one point it was mentioned by one of my mom’s sisters that I do more to help with my grandmother and that triggered an “Excuse the merry fuck out of me!” response considering I do more to take care of the old bat than my aunt had ever done. I am someone who constantly says how much I do not want children and stand quite firm when it comes to that. I don’t want to take care of a child, much less a 90-year-old woman who acts like a child. If you don’t believe me then spend an afternoon with the woman and see. She pouts, throws tantrums, can’t wipe her ass (and I’m sure as fuck not going to wipe it for her. I leave that for my mom and aunts.)

I’m dealing with my own mental illness and on my particularly bad days it takes all I have to crawl out of bed. I do what I can because my mom asks me to do it and I want to help my mom since she’s done so much for me all these years. I know my mom doesn’t fully understand my mental illness, but that’s my fault for not really opening up about it like I should. She does understand a bit of it, though. She has also informed her sisters about it and that I’m not capable of taking care of someone else with a mental illness like dementia.

It seems like a game of catch when it comes to my grandmother, just tossing her around from one family member to the other. In all honesty, I wish they’d just put her in a home. That may sound cruel to some of you out there reading this, but I think it’d be the best thing for her. She can get constant care. My mom and one of her sisters both work full-time jobs, which is why I’ve stepped in over the past five years to help out. My mom’s other sister is retired and who the fuck knows why she doesn’t just take her? She’s too worried about it cutting into her vacations she takes with her husband, I suppose.

I’ve been stressed ever since my grandmother returned and I’ve been avoiding her in order to avoid a fight. I used to never swear around her, but there was a time a few months back where she was fighting me as far as taking her medication and I had to yell at her, “Take your fucking pills!” Do I sound like the kind of person suited for this fucking job? I didn’t think so, either.

I don’t know why living into old age is something people strive for. If you’re going to lose your mind then you might as well take yourself out because it’s not pretty. Fuck dying with dignity. There’s no such thing.