Sooooo, it's been over a year since I started this blog (and made my last post), but I've been busy. In the past year I've: changed jobs, become a licensed CPA, consumed a lot of wine (thanks Wall Street Journal), become a crazy "dance mom", survived another tax season, helped my child through a grueling year of kindergarten, traveled to strange and exotic lands like Wisconsin, North Carolina, and Puerto Rico, AND for the past six months or so, I've spent most of my time completely trying to forget that my mom is suffering from a terrible disease. Trying to ignore reality is surprisingly exhausting and a complete waste of time; it's like trying to outrun a rabid dog. Even if you're as fast as Jesse Owens, eventually, you're still going to get bit in the ass!
When I was a kid, I probably used the phrase "That's not fair!"
more than anyone I know. And my parents would always fire back with,
"Well, life isn't fair!" Lately, I've caught myself saying it more
and more frequently. I've been kind of throwing myself one huge pity party for
about the past year or so, and I started saying to myself, "It's not fair
my mom has this disease. It's not fair I don't get to have a mom anymore. It's
not fair Audrey doesn't have Grandparents. It's not fair that I have to do all
of the laundry and clean my house. It's not fair that I have to go to work when
it's sunny and 75 degrees. It's not fair that I have to get out of bed and take
a shower." But that's the crazy reality you create for yourself when
you've decided to stop living your life and succumb to the stress and devastation
of this disease. I've never been the most optimistic individual, and I've been
going through the motions of everyday life without actually living it. Get up.
Shower. Go to work. Call mom. Come home. Call mom. Drink wine. Go to bed.
Because I live an hour away from my parents, I'm unable to provide very much
support for my dad and other family members who are currently caring for my mom,
and I feel guilty. Sure I call my mom regularly, but the conversations are
usually very short (if she even answers the phone) because she is unable to
follow the rhythm of a conversation and her ability to communicate her own
thoughts is diminishing. It's hard to watch this happen to someone you love,
and sometimes I just have to walk away. Sometimes I have to ignore the phone
calls because if I don't talk to her, I can remember her the way she used to
be. Running away from uncomfortable situations makes them go away right? WRONG!
But that is the approach I've been taking. Just don't deal with it. "I'm
sorry, I'm too busy to come and visit." I've tried to stay strong, but
lately I've felt a deep sense of loss and profound sadness. The grief is devastating,
and unlike normal grieving, this grief process goes on for years and even decades. The loss
is sometimes slow and steady, or fast and furious, but one thing remains the
same, each day is unpredictable.
I'll try to be more diligent about posting more frequently. I think it will
really help me cope. Sometimes I just need a little kick in the butt; thank you
to all of my supporters out there!