Home Sweet AnnaBelle











{August 16, 2010}   Can I close the door for a little while?

Since my Dad died, I’ve had good days, and I’ve had bad days. I’ve had days where I feel like he’s around (don’t laugh…), or I feel some comfort…Like the fact that he wasn’t long suffering…or the fact that he didn’t spend his last days in a nursing home (which he always feared). I’ve also had days of feeling empty. Not just for my loss, but for how our lives will all change now.

I’m going to say some things now that I would NEVER say in real life. I say it here, dear reader(s), because I need to get it out and see if it is as ugly as it seems to be in the shadows of my mind.

I’m exhausted.

I have been my parents’ caregiver for a LOOOOONG time. It was one of those things where I just sort of…fell into it…and it came to be normal. My other siblings all have their issues; with my parents, with each other, or with life.

So, I, the youngest of 5, began to look after my aging parents (and some siblings off and on also).

The thing is, now that my Dad is gone, my Mother is understandably going through an awful transition, and a great deal of pain. I empathize with her. I hate that she is hurting, and I truly can’t imagine losing my partner of 48 years. I really can’t.

It’s just…hard. I’m tired. I’ve started to become reclusive in the last couple of weeks. I’m hardly talking to any of my friends, because I don’t like being overly emotional IRL (that’s what blogging is for) and I’m absolutely exhausted. The more I isolate myself, the worse it’s getting, but I’m too tired to fix it. By the end of the day, I have sometimes been on the phone with my mother for 2 hours or more…Listening to her, comforting her, and talking her down off proverbial ledges. Either my kids are awake, and I’m looking after them, or they’re sleeping, and I am talking to my Mom THE. WHOLE. TIME.

And, when I’m not on the phone, I’m packing up the kids, and driving 45 minutes to her house to be with her.

I don’t regret that. I don’t. I want to be there for her. But it means that I have nothing else left, which is a huge problem, because I have a hundred other relationships and obligations that are falling apart right now. 

I feel like a horrible daughter, mother, wife and friend. I just want a day of quiet, where I can indulge my instinct to disconnect from reality and pretend that nothing has changed.

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