rainbowtatt

How effing cathartic is it to cry? As in, cry properly?

While it sucks that there’s a need to cry, it does wonders when you let it all out—snot and all.

Mine’s been brought on by a series of bad things, some more trivial than others. Each I could manage on their own, but when they snowball, then I struggle to keep above it all.

Above all this, I know things will get better. Soon.

This weheartit-style post is brought to you by my hormones. Normal blogging will return shortly. Promise.

It’s hard to find the words to explain what the last two months has been like. The stress, denial, acceptance; the explaining.

Mum was sick. Whether it was self-induced (addiction) or an existing condition (mental health) is like asking about the chicken or the egg. I want to be open about it for my own selfish reasons, but also to increase awareness, especially to people who are “victims” like me. But I don’t want to hurt anyone by my actions, either (i.e., sorry if all this seems vague and/or obscure).

On the day that mum went into hospital, I sat with her while she was told the cold hard facts of her need to stay in hospital. I watched her eyes as she realised that decisions were being made for her. Mum was only meant to be in hospital for a few days, but complications turned it into a seven-week ordeal. Mum’s medical team cared for her and made her well enough to leave the hospital. They determined that she couldn’t live on her own. That she needed to be in a nursing home.

But nursing homes are for Grandmas. Not mums. Not my mum. She’s too young. But we learned what she would need to stay well, and knew that a nursing home was for the best. It would mean we could sleep at night knowing that she’s getting the care she needs. And she’s getting that care now. We were so lucky to get mum placed into a nursing home that can care for her so well. I know so many people who are struggling while they care for their parents who are in a much worse position than mum (and us).

It’s strange that we’ve gone through so many processes that I associate with someone who’s passed away – taking over financials, cancelling the newspaper delivery, emptied out mum’s house – and we’ve even moved through some of the stages of grieving – yet mum’s still sitting in the nursing home, waiting for her next visitor.

So this week’s been, well, shite. Friday afternoon, I hit my wall. I decided to stop sweating the big stuff and focus on the simple pleasures of life.

Like the cupcakes that Liz & Jarod made especially for me and delivered on Friday night:

(Don’t tell them, but I still get a bit of a leaky eye when I think of the effort that went into these, just for me!)

I got to hang out with Big Angus yesterday and we laughed at fart noises and played in the park and he let me watch him jump all over the couch:

I hung out on the floor and took photos of Elvis:

And I wore my new cupcake PJs whenever I was home (Liz and Jarod can vouch for this one!)

So even though there are a multitude of things I’m behind on with housework, web work, wedding planning… this weekend I said stuffit and focused on me.

I shook out those cobwebs and I feel much betterer for it.

Do you take enough time “out” to focus on enjoying the simple pleasures in life?

• Dot points removed

My life will continue like this for at least another week, until we know what’s next for us all.

I’m totally surviving on Dory’s “Just keep swimming” mantra. And bottles of V.

Is it possible to buy shares in the V company?

In the meantime, something that’s appropriate for my level of brain function as well as attention span.

OH LOOK, KITTEHS!!!!

I’ve been sitting here for the last half hour, trying to put what’s going on in my head onto the page.

It isn’t pretty (what’s in my head).

The topics include making decisions about:

• My mother
• Her alcoholism
• My wedding day.

It’s just too hard to put into tangible sentences without sounding like a sooky-lah-lah.

I also keep getting blog-fright because OHMYGOD someone else might read it.

Which is kinda the point, yeah?

My decisions on the those 3 topics are all linked; the butterfly effect that could make or break my brain.

And my brain hurts.

I think I need another session at Al-Anon.

Send cupcakes.