Momma said there'd be days like this...I think. These days, it is hard to remember any words of wisdom that my Mom once passed along. Not only that, today is a day I am in a "funk." Actually, I have been in it for almost a week.
Today, I thought, "How did my life get to this point?" The point where I am doing my mother's laundry and labeling her items with a laundry marker. Like a mother sending her child off to camp...except that the roles are reversed. The child is taking care of the mother. I knew that this role reversal would eventually happen. It is just too soon.
And today, like almost every day before I go see her, I have a feeling in my stomach. That feeling of nervousness. Anxiety over what I am going to get with her. Who is she going to be? What is she going to say? Will it make any sense? All I know is that I will never have the Mom back that I so wish I could. The Mom that I once had.
I want the Mom who would go scour Marshall's with me looking for a deal. I want the Mom who would sing "All The Pretty Horses" with her soft voice to my children. I want the Mom who would look content sitting on the couch, feet up, truly engrossed in her next new book. I want the Mom who always had a soft and soothing voice whenever I talked with her. I want the Mom who baked gingerbread cookies every Christmas, for me during my childhood and then with me. Heck, I'd even take the Mom who had slight dementia and laughed with me because sometimes a conversation was a sort of charades game of words.
I look at other people with their mothers and I wish I had what they had. I listen to them complain about their mothers. How "She is so annoying. She is always talking to everyone, even if we don't know them!" Or "My Mom won't stop calling me!" Man, do I wish I could say that.
And I know a lot of people out there are thinking, "At least your Mom is still alive. My Mom didn't get to meet my baby." Trust me, I get that I am lucky to still have her around. I love the days that we laugh or that I walk through the garden with her, even if her mind has turned the blowing leaves into little scurrying animals. But today I am playing my victim card.
Today I am weepy and pissed and so utterly sad that I am sitting at home writing her name on her laundry so it doesn't get lost. I am pissed about punching in security codes in order to get into a new wing at her facility. I am tired of going to see her and hearing a story she has created that something is wrong and someone is misbehaving... and it certainly isn't her. I am tired of sweeping out dried leaves and ripped pages from books from her dresser drawers, where they have been safely stored away for no good reason. I am tired of the fact that she can't tell the difference between a doll and a real live baby. I am especially tired of the guilt. Feeling guilty that I am doing the wrong thing or not doing enough for my mother. The guilt, the sadness, and the anger are just sometimes too much to bear. They envelope my being. And I can't start crying because the feelings are so deep that I am not sure what it would take me to stop. I imagine sobs that are encompassing my soul, tearing my body. I can't go there today.
So instead, I will have my solitude. I made some homemade soup. I took a long hot shower. And I sat and did my Mom's laundry. Today I will play the victim card, for tomorrow I will be dealt a new hand.