Remain Sane

I am trying, I really am trying, to remain sane.

Because I felt last night like I might NOT remain sane, I increased my daily medication by half.

I should not have done that.

THGGM came home from church talking about how great the sermon was. I couldn't remember anything. That isn't like me. It was about some guys, brothers, I think. There was a great visual, but all I could think was what a cool head board it would make.

That extra half of meds has put me into a foggy daze of blah. Blah, blah, blah.

Anyway. I'm not sorry that I took it, because my mom was not doing so well this morning in church. Her not doing so well = Me not doing so well.

This makes me feel like a failure. I tried to persuade THGGM to rescue her and return her to my father but he suddenly noticed a light he had failed to turn on, and left. Left me to watch my mom floundering in a sea of unfamiliarity with her normal everyday life. I do not know what to do any more. (notice that i want thggm to solve this for me.)

Sometimes I can tell myself it is somewhat funny. Like when she keeps asking Daughter when she would like to have a baby shower. This sometimes happens eight times in thirty minutes. This is Daughter's second baby, and she doesn't want a shower. It's not the done thing. She just wants to get unpacked and have this baby. So, sometimes she changes the answer. (i've concidered making her a maternity shirt that says in bold print I Do Not Want a Shower, but then, other people would think she is stinky, and she is not. so i won't.)

Last night I was caught in a bold face lie with my mother. I don't lie. But, she has this particular problem of becoming attached to a certain article of clothing and she wears it until it develops a life and culture all it's own. So, I became a 'creative storyteller' and certainly bore no false witness against my neighbor.

I HAD to snatch the pink sweater away from her.

So, when I was at their house last night figuring out their meds and pretending that I have a clue about what is going on with their insurance (i don't), I told her that I would gladly take her sweater home and wash it for her. She said basically, no thank you. I countered with a tale of how I would wash it since she spilled coffee on it at my house on Thursday.

That was a lie. We didn't have coffee on Thursday.

But, it seemed safe enough as it sure looked like coffee all over her pink sweater, and her 'rememberer' has been more haywire lately.

She looked at me like I was a lying fool and proclaimed - 'I don't think we had coffee on Thursday.'

True.

But, I did manage to get the sweater.

I want to find a big blanket, crawl under it and come out sometime in, let's say, October. I like October.

Things in my world seem very unfamiliar too. I hate when things feel unfamiliar.

But, I cannot stop. Things most continue to be sorted, tossed and put into boxes.

Tonight I padded through the fog up into my messy little art room. I filled boxes with rubber stamps. I filled boxes with paper. I filled boxes with 'found elements' that any sane person would know was actually trash and would have pitched. I have two large boxes full of books and papers for decoupage projects.

Next I began sorting out the tools for turning all of that into something. Tools like heat guns, hot glue guns, soldering irons, paper cutters, paints, brushes, inks, pens, markers, punches, a plethora of glues, beads, ribbons,..oh,..this is NEVER going to end!!!!

So, I'm taking deep breaths, knowing that things work out, things always work out, even though I CANNOT POSSIBLY SEE HOW THINGS CAN WORK OUT, they do. (don't they? please say yes.)

There now. I've said it.

I do know that things ULTIMATELY work out for the ULTIMATE good.

I also know that the universe does not exist to grant me temporal happiness. (once or twice wouldn't disturb the fine balance of things though, would it?)

But, I also know that my mom will continue to decline. My dad will grow older. People I love very much will die. Other people have it much worse than me, of that I am sure. But I am not other people, I am me.

Anyway...

Today I told Daughter (who is much more relaxed now that HER move is over) that one of my biggest concerns about moving is that nobody will like us anymore after they move all of our stuff. She assured me that that isn't why nobody likes us.

I am tired. Perplexed. Flummoxed. And, just a teensy bit ornery.

(is it noticeable?)