When did it start?

I keep wondering when Mom's mental decline really started?
A little over a year ago she called me at work, frazzled telling me she locked her house keys in the house. "No big deal," I said. "You have your car keys?"
"Yes, but I'm at the neighbor's calling you. I HAVE TO GET OFF THE PHONE."
"Yes, but Mom, you can drive over here to where I work and pick up my house keys. It will be fine." (I work very close to Mom's house.)
"How am I going to drive over to your work? I don'thavemykeysIhavetogoI'mattheneighbor's!"
"Mom, hold on. You just said you have your car keys."
"Oh. Yes. Ok. Bye."

When she got to my work I met her at the door, handed her my keys, and off she went.
I told my sisters about this and we all blew it off as a nervous reaction to an embarrassing moment. We've all locked our keys in the house. We've all been forgetful in a nervous moment, but this seemed like a bit more.

I stopped over at her house a few days later with a fake sprinkler head hide-a-key thing I've seen in a few geocaching hides. I told her to keep an extra set of house keys in the hide-a-key and maybe ask a neighbor if we could put it in their yard so as not to be too obvious to a potential thief.

Yesterday I found the hide-a-key in the back of the pantry, still in its packaging. She was too nervous to put it outside - convinced someone would figure out they were her keys. Oy.

Is this how it started? Was this an early sign of things to come?

I need to really up my yoga. I believe Mom's mental state has been worsened over the years by the stress she places on herself. One way I can keep this from happening to me is by doing yoga and remembering that there is barely anything in this world worth worrying over. This is easier said than done.

Things haven't always been easy for Mom. I get that. Her husband died when she was in her mid-50s. Her youngest daughter had just started college. She was suddenly grieving and on her own. She did alright with it for a while. As far as I know, she never dated, but she's always had friends until recently. Her closest friend, Betty, died about 3 years ago. I think this was a devastating loss for her even though she mostly complained about how nutty Betty was. (And she really was a spit-fire!)

So she's been alone for the most part for years. Her only social interaction was work. Ugh. That's the worst, right? I mean, my co-workers are pretty great, but I'm glad I have friends outside of work that I can relate to on a true personal level.

So here I am, alone in Mom's house. It's creaky and strangely quiet without her here. My parakeets have been pretty quiet lately. She would always sing to them and top off their food dish if it looked low. She always said they were too loud, too dirty, too whatever, but I think she really liked them.

Slow decline

The scariest thought hit me today: we've already experienced the highest point of Mom's mental state. From now until the end, it will only get worse.
It will only get worse.

Thank god I'm not an only child. I know I would be a different person if I had been, so it doesn't matter for the other "many worlds" theory's universes out there in which I am an only child or even more complex - I don't exist or (gasp!) I'm male. (Ha ha.) Anyway, what I'm trying to write is that I'm incredibly lucky and thankful for this luck.

My oldest sister got to experience the "broken record" thing Mom does lately for one night. She told me all about it the following morning after sleeping over at Mom's new home. I said, "yeah, I know. Welcome to the hell I've been living in. 24/7. It's been fun."

Despite the terrible sentence structure of my reply to her I think she really understood why I've been so stressed out. (Because dealing with an ex boyfriend who refuses to sell a house we own together [we broke up about a year ago] isn't enough to deal with on a daily basis. No, please. Here, have a side of "Dementia Mom.") I know, I know. "Wha, wha, whaaa..."


Today was Mom's third day in her new place. When I came over, she seemed a little frazzled, but everything is so new. It is hard for her to make new memories so little things like, "keep your keys in this basket by the door" is impossible to remember. We have to repeat these instructions to her over and over again. It's very frustrating, but I can't imagine how frustrating it is for her.

What strikes me is how vocal she is about things she's unsure of. When I moved in to my childhood home with her she would see one of my boxes in the dining room and ask, "what's that?" at least once a day. I couldn't understand what was going on. Even after I labelled it "Penny's Stuff" it took about a month for it to really sink in.

"What's that" has been her most frequently used statement. Any time she sees something that seems new to her, she says it. I think that I would keep that question to myself or investigate by, say, opening the box and looking inside it if I wasn't sure of what it was instead of just pointing and voicing my confusion. But I honestly have no idea how I would be if my brain was changing in the ways that Alzheimer's changes it. This must be part of the disease.

Dammit. I'm mad I have to add this stupid fucking disease to my family's medical history now when I go to a doctor. Goddammit all to hell. Fuck Cancer. Fuck Alzheimer's. Fuck Heart Disease.

Fuck Gingivitis while we're at it.


(Side note - I had no idea how to spell "dammit" until I ran spellcheck just now. I've been writing "damnit" my whole life, which is apparently wrong.)

All the feels

It's easy to get angry and let yourself get carried away with it.
I'm still just learning about Alzheimer's. So far, I hate it. I don't know how long it goes on for, I mean I know it's now til the end, but how long will that be?

And here I am again watching another parent die slowly over the next few years. It's torture. There is nothing I can do for her - I have to just watch it happen. Of course, I will try my best to make her feel safe and loved, but that's all I can do. And doing that is so very difficult. She doesn't seem to believe a word I say. How frustrating. It's like being a child again in that respect.

How is any of this fair?
Hasn't there been enough crap lately?

We're trying to make this move as easy as possible for her. I get frustrated easily and am having trouble when her thinking isn't straight. "Why isn't she more organized? Why does she keep running from room to room? Why doesn't she just pack up like we keep telling her she needs to do?"
I know this disease makes it impossible for her to concentrate. I know this, but it's still very confusing for me. It hasn't exactly sunk in yet, I think.

I am my fathers daughter, without a doubt. My patience is short, I'm becoming quick to anger. There is just so much pain.

The other day a driver changed lanes without using his blinker and I followed him into a parking lot and yelled at him out of my car window for it. "YOU DIDN'T USE YOUR BLINKER, JERK! YOU COULD KILL SOMEBODY!" I shouted. He shouted back, "I DID USE MY BLINKER. OPEN YOUR EYES!"
I drove away and pulled into a parking spot far way, out of view and bawled my eyes out. It was the day before my birthday.
I thought about the interaction and how I was taking out my anger and frustrations on some poor guy who didn't realize his tail light wasn't working. This isn't how I usually function. So I pulled myself together and drove back over to where he'd parked so I could apologize. I felt so terrible. His car was gone so I never got a chance to say, "I'm sorry." So then I felt even worse imagining how being yelled at by a stranger is negatively affecting the rest of his day.

Living with dementia

I won't give it a capital D. I hate it.
Yesterday my mother wasn't sure who I was. She kept calling me one of my sisters' names and I would correct her. Then she got upset. This is a new thing.
She talked to the mistaken sister about it. She said she was confused because, "Penny's a kid, but there was this adult who looked like her. I thought maybe it was you."

This sucks so much.

I don't care if she gets my name wrong. It hurts to see her struggle so much with this stuff. "Who are these people?" "Where did I put that thing?"

In about a month she'll be living in a new place where they can monitor her better. I know it will be very hard for her at first but I think if she relaxes and keeps the anxiety at bay she'll have the opportunity to blossom and be healthy. But for now I see how the anxiety and stress turn her into someone who doesn't know what's going on.

Did I mention I hate this?

Hello, Six Unique Readers

Welcome to the blog. I think this might be too introspective to be of interest to anyone but me. However, if you like to read my crazy ramblings, then by all means, enjoy.

Today I was thinking about karaoke. For serious. I love performing for a crowd and getting a positive reaction. Sure, I've gotten up on that stage and had only mildly null reactions, but never really 100% negative reactions. It seems like if people aren't into it, they'll just clap quietly or not at all.

I took a public speaking class once in college and the instructor (a man who smoked a pipe and wore elbow patches - ya, no kidding) told us that if you make eye contact with a person in the crowd, they will most likely smile back at you, helping to boost your confidence if you are having a fearful moment. When you're a face in a crowd and the speaker or singer makes eye contact with you, suddenly you are somebody. The audience wants you to succeed: they want to be entertained.

Nobody wants to see you fail. Nobody really wants to see anybody else fail...

unless you're skateboarding. Then it's only interesting if you fall.

Introspection

Nobody reads this, so nobody will care if I get introspective for a post or two... or all of them and that's why nobody reads these things.

"Just be yourself."
Or was it...
"Just be your self."

How the hell do I do that? I'm not really sure who I am. Or maybe I have an idea of who I am and I like some parts, but not other parts.

Shouldn't I have figured this crap out by now? I'm 33.

Maybe I'm in a "limbo" state because of my housing situation that is keeping me from feeling independent. God, I miss having my own place. Those were the days. I could have a beer and no one would say absurd things... I could go out and not have to tell anyone where I was going or feel guilty about going anywhere. I was free to be me. And here, stuck in this basement, I am free to be.. who? Teen aged me? Ugh. This is why it sucks. I feel like a teenager again, but in a really bad way.

Am I selfish? Am I tired of people judging me and telling me what to do? YES TO BOTH.

We all have to be a little bit selfish or else we lose our sense of self, right?

God, I miss my old apartment. And all of that sweet, delicious freedom. When will I have it again?

"Just be yourself."
Words of wisdom from John Hodgman.
I'm still making sense of it. More on this another time.
-Not "Penny O'Reilly"

This name is FAKE.

Keep the change, ya filthy animal

Last night I had one of those aggravating/stress dreams that isn't quite a nightmare, but you wake up and your heart is pounding.
In the dream, some weird dirtbag guy stole $20 from my mom at a train station. I found him later, kicked him in the face (he was sitting on a low chair-how convenient for my kicking height) told him to, "keep the 20, douchebag," then led a group of strangers in a slow-chant of "DOUCHEBAG, DOUCHEBAG" while pointing a laughing at the dirtbag thief.
It felt nice an redemptive - as if I were a superhero whose special power is taunting dirtbags with bad words.
I want that power.

This is why I write...

I had a total "craigslist missed connection" last weekend.
There was a cute guy at a bar where I sang "White Rabbit" at karaoke and he applauded and gave me thumbs up from outside the bar through the window where he sat at the outdoor seating enjoying a cigar and whiskey on the rocks.
Upon noticing his applause and encouragement, I made a point to sing to him. He was adorable. I thought, "this lighting must be decent in here for a cutie like him to be so kind." Nah, turns out he's just THAT nice. A nice guy? What the...
I decided to leave the bar shortly after singing "White Rabbit," but not before first saying thank you to the kind man outside.
"Hi there... I just wanted to say..."

"Oh my god! You are awesome! You sound just like Grace Slick! Some guy walking by even stopped to ask who was singing he liked it so much! I'm Dave, by the way."

"Oh wow... Dave, [shakes his hand] thank you! Oh wow... [flustered] huh, I'm Penny. Nice to meet you."

Outside of the bar for nearly an hour we chatted and really hit it off. It's rare to find someone you click with so easily.

"Hey, Penny, would you like to come inside with me and have a drink?"

"Yes. Yes, I would. Thank you."

For another hour we chatted and laughed, cheered on the karaoke singers, sang along, discussed everything from religions to bands to college sports. You know, all the important stuff in the world.

Eventually I needed to leave to catch a train back home. I hugged him goodbye and he said, "this is so sad. What if I never see you again?" (He was only in town for the week for a professional convention.) I said, "but if we do cross paths again it would be cause for celebration."

And with that I left with a smile on my face.

The next day, I woke up thinking...

Stupid stupid stupid girl. Whocaresifhe's22andyou're33andyoulive6hoursawayfromeachotherbuthe'skindwarmhandsomegenuinefunnygivehimyournumberyoufoolwhydidn'tyougivehimyournumber???!!

It wasn't until Monday that I decided to really take action in finding him. I knew his full name and the hotel where he was staying so I called and asked to connect me to his room. He answered.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Dave?"
"Yes..."
"Dave, this is Penny from karaoke the other night..."
"Oh my god! I'm so glad you called!!! How are you?"
[Whew] "I'm good! Let me give you my number."

We made plans to hang out the next day, but he cancelled saying he made previous plans and forgot... [should I believe this?]

In the end, I believe he was sincere in simply running out of time and essentialy overbooking himself. He was, afterall, there for meetings and job training, etc. I understand. It doesn't mean I have to be happy about it.

I hope someday soon I get a phone call from him telling me he'll be in the area and we should hang out. I hope.

For now, that's where the story ends.

I'm tired of steampunk.


That is all.

2011 recap

Apparently, 2011 was a very low year for me. I'm only just realizing this. Looking through photos on my hardrive, I noticed far fewer folders in 2011 as compared to earlier years.

Things happened, but I didn't feel the need to capture them in photos. Strangely, there were two folders of meaningless random photos taken with an old camera that once belonged to my father. They were mostly test shots to see if the camera worked at all.

It feels like I've been isolated for a long time. All of my friends and family live at least 30 mins away. Now, I know that isn't much, but it takes a toll on you after a while. You can't just drop by.

For most of 2011 I felt low, heavy, dark, and dreary. I tried different things to make me happy: shopping, walking through a park, trying new restaurants. I'd be sort of happy for a little bit, but none of these things had lasting effects.

I've never felt so sad in my life for no reason.

But there was a reason and it hurts too much to think about it.

When you realize you're with the wrong person, or that your relationship has run its course and you feel neglected and invisible but also smothered and anxious, it's a horrible feeling. But there's a strange lightness to the realization too. It's like the light at the end of the tunnel. There's a reason for this lowness so things can get better for me. I know I will feel better soon.

But right now it still sucks big time.