I’ll probably never publish this but it's been fermenting for a long time. It's difficult to know how to frame it. I’ll try this way.
There have been three times in my life when I've felt truly broken hearted, and they have had nothing to do with romantic disappointment.
The first time was when I had an ectopic pregnancy. The second was when my father died and the third time is right now.
Five years after the death of my father, my mum has been struck down with illness. I'm going to cut to the chase and say that several professionals have said that she has dementia, although she hasn't been formally diagnosed, and she's currently also suffering from delirium. The onset of this has been brutally sudden. From February to now - August. From seeming fine to having a rapid decline in health. My witty, erudite and ebullient mum has all but vanished. What started as extreme anxiety has deteriorated into something far more complicated.
I feel like I'm grieving. She's still here but she's not here, not as I’ve always known her. And I miss her so much. I miss having someone wishing us a safe journey when we go on holiday and wanting me to text her when we get there. I miss sharing the children's milestones with her. I miss swapping book recommendations and asking whether she's watched the new crime drama on T.V. I miss her regular text messages. Yet she's still here but she's not here. I know that people who have lost their parents may think this is insensitive but my mother, as I knew her, has vanished. I feel devastated about this. I feel cold and lonely.
I haven't told anyone at work about this, mainly because I can't talk about it without getting upset. This is despite the fact that my mum was in hospital for six weeks. Despite the fact that I had to leave work one day, in the middle of the day, to attend a meeting with the social worker. I had to get a colleague to swap responsibilities with me at the last minute, because the meeting had been called at the last minute, but I still didn't tell anyone at work about what I was doing.
I feel like a lot of the time I'm painting on a mask of serenity. But yeah, like I know a lot of people have it worse. I can only go by my own experience. The world starts from my brain and my consciousness.
My husband has been unemployed for over a year and is worried that he'll never get another job. I have two teenage children who don't cut us any slack and my heart is broken. We watched a TV drama where a character walked into the sea, fully clothed and screamed. We turned to each other and said that we both felt like doing that.
But I also have a lot to be enormously grateful for, including those teenage children and that husband. My friends who I have spoken to about it have been lovely.
I realise that I might come across as whiny and selfish and where is my mum in all of this? She is holding on. Terribly anxious and much thinner. Other people have been affected by this but, as I said, I can only really speak from my own experience.
It's always been easier for me to express myself in writing, rather than talking about it, so this is why I have written this now.
Thanks for reading.
