No matter how tired I am this weather I can never seem to get enough sleep. Granted, part of that is my own fault, I’m a bit of a night owl, but when I have the opportunity to sleep a little longer in the mornings it never happens and it’s extremely frustrating!
So here I sit with a banging headache, the next door neighbours dog is having a noisy showdown with the cockerel, as in one is chasing the shadows of birds and the other is trying to call for them. There is housework to be done and people to be fed and I just can’t be arsed doing any of it, no point in sugar coating how I feel, lack of sleep clearly makes me a cow.
I’ve missed not writing and reading blogs, but there has just been no time. It’s something I am going to have to rectify, because honestly, sometimes in the middle of everything that goes on I think it is the only thing that keeps me sane.
This last couple of weeks have been challenging, and it’s a stark reminder that things are going to get worse instead of better. Don’t get me wrong, the Fathership and I face each situation we come across, usually successfully, but it’s mentally and physically draining sometimes. It would be nice to think that in the midst of everything life would stop and give you a break when the shit hits the fan, but it doesn’t, so you have to deal with all these things whilst dealing with life too, which can be complicated enough on its own sometimes.
I’m sick of trying to explain to people what it’s like, or make excuses for the way I live my life or do things the way I do. I appreciate that most people mean well when they say, you just have to get up and do it (when referring to going out), but real life just doesn’t work that way and perhaps if they walked a couple of weeks in my shoes they would realise that. I mean would you get up and leave a two year old child and go to dinner without putting any preparation in place, because that’s what dealing with someone with dementia is like. Any deviations from the normal routine or changes to schedules can have disastrous effects and invoke meltdowns of epic proportions. Sometimes you have to weigh up the pros and cons and ask yourself is it worth having one night of fun to endure 6 nights of torture. When you’re already at the end of your rope and trying to hang on, then answer to that is no.
I’ve wanted to write so many times over these past couple of weeks, but on the rare chances I had to sit down I had nothing to say, because all of this was rattling around in my wonky top box and I couldn’t figure out if here was the platform for it, this is after all meant to be a humour blog. Although I suppose I do try to put my usual slight comedic spin on things. Both the Fathership and I agree on one thing, if we didn’t laugh we’d cry.
I suppose in the end, the conclusion I came to was this, it’s my blog, I can write what I want, and it is definitely better writing about these things to get them off my chest rather than keeping them bottled up. I have however (if I can figure it out) turned off the comments on this post. I don’t want sympathy, that’s not why I write, there are people in the world dealing with much worse things. I just need to expel my ramblings into the ether.
Trust me, it’s good to talk – even if it is just to yourself!
Love you all :)