I am laying here in the wee hours of the night, after a tremendous day.
I don't really know how to put these feelings into words, but I'm going to try. It's a big hurt, and I need support.
I must first preface that I am surrounded by the most wonderful people and that I am not being hurt in any way. I have an abundance. I am blessed.
I love my father very, very much. I did not have an ideal life growing up. But while my mother was gone most of the time, my father was always there with me. And as an adult when I got into serious trouble from poverty or abuse, he would do whatever he could to help me.
My dad got sick about a year ago and he's been in and out of the hospital since then. I have been spending a lot of time at my parents' house to care for him. My mother, who was not so long ago had a very outgoing, outspoken, and funny personality, now is so soft and quiet. Broken.
I think my brother has something to do with it, as he is an abusive hard drug addict with comorbid mental illness. But I think also my daddy's illness and his change, has broken Mom's heart, and her spirit. I worry that my dad might be abusing her in his dementia, but I'm not sure. I just know that sometimes people with dementia get violent when they are confused. But my daddy seems very sweet, so I don't know.
After his hospitalizations, I would visit a lot, caring for him, talking to him, watching shows together. And the days I didn't visit, my daughter would try to.
But then I got hurt in October or November sometime. Whiplash. And since then, I've been seeing less and less of Dad. My daughter still gets out to their place often once or twice a week, but she had her injury and illness too. I get out there when I can, but it's not as often at all. A few times a month, lately. I feel so guilty.
Then I reinjured myself, aggrivating the same back injury, to the point where I've spent most of my time in bed. I rarely even cook or take out the trash, lately, which burdens my daughter to do more work, even though she has her own shoulder injury, and has a job.
It's been since Christmas that I saw my dad. And I've only spoken to him on the phone a handful of times. My mother too. I've just been hiding an illness and injury, trying not to worry them. Or anyone in my world.
When I was there with my dad and talking to him a lot, he was doing so good, recovering from a couple severe brain injuries. With all the family's support he was speaking in full sentences, remembering great things. even apologizing for stuff that happened years ago, which of course I told him were non issues nowadays. He even made me something to eat and drink, which was really nice, because I was there to take care of him, and here he was recovering so well. We got really close.
I love my Daddy.
And so I have this massive sorrow, that compounds upon itself, every time I hear a report of my father's declining health. And I physically can't be there to help him. And then the sorrow puts me into panic mode, and I go severely nonverbal, so I don't call my folks. My daughter has seen me several times lately in such nonverbal grief and anxiety. It scares her when I'm like "The... the... the.. get the... please the... um... um..." I have never, ever been that way in front of her. I've always been able to mask until lately. It scares her so much and she's already dealing with my father's illness too.
My dad is the closest thing to a father that she has. And my father has for years been the only soft spot I have in my life. The only strong watchman. My only defender during times I was surrounded by vultures as a child.
He taught me great noble things about integrity, honesty, compassion, charity, self sacrifice. He is a steward of the land. He'd rather have no friends than the wrong kinds and made sure I followed suit.
I would watch him saddlebreak wild horses. One black stallion no one could ride. My dad wouldn't even have his leg over and the stallion would bolt. But my dad could hold on. He did not fall. He was the only one out of a group of great ranchers that could. I would watch in awe as he groomed and courted unbroken horses walking trusting getting closer, petting them. I believed he was superman.
He made sure, when no one else did, that I got to radiation every single day. He'd sit in the car with me, and would talk me into going inside, sharing intimate details about our past, and how much he needed me to fight. I am crying right now thinking of it.
And here I am laying in bed. My dad is becoming nonverbal. Not finishing sentences. Getting confused. More and more each day. This is the man that's shepherded and guided me all my life. And I'm not doing enough.
It puts me in panic mode, like a filly that got out of her corral and is bolting up the mountain, full speed, trying to find something she recognizes as safety and comfort.
And I can't do anything. I'm not doing anything.
I am very shy, and I love my Dad so much. I derive happiness from seeing him well taken care of. But right now I am the problem. I am the one needing help. But my Daddy needs it more.
I don't know what to do.
I feel horrible. Great sorrow beyond depression. I call it the big sad. And my verbal skills are going down too. The panic makes it so I've been speaking a lot in very short, simplistic sentences.
Am I exacerbating problems? Am I a burden? How do I help? I don't know, and I feel so scared and small.
I worked so hard yesterday, and wore myself out. Trying to forget for a moment. It didn't work, I just re-injured myself. And found out later that day that my daddy is doing even worse.
I am not helping. I think I am making things worse. And I don't know what to do.
I just want to help my dad, to spend time with him, care for him. I know that the lack of interaction in the days is harming him cognitively. I just want my daddy. I feel so useless.
I don't really know how to put these feelings into words, but I'm going to try. It's a big hurt, and I need support.
I must first preface that I am surrounded by the most wonderful people and that I am not being hurt in any way. I have an abundance. I am blessed.
I love my father very, very much. I did not have an ideal life growing up. But while my mother was gone most of the time, my father was always there with me. And as an adult when I got into serious trouble from poverty or abuse, he would do whatever he could to help me.
My dad got sick about a year ago and he's been in and out of the hospital since then. I have been spending a lot of time at my parents' house to care for him. My mother, who was not so long ago had a very outgoing, outspoken, and funny personality, now is so soft and quiet. Broken.
I think my brother has something to do with it, as he is an abusive hard drug addict with comorbid mental illness. But I think also my daddy's illness and his change, has broken Mom's heart, and her spirit. I worry that my dad might be abusing her in his dementia, but I'm not sure. I just know that sometimes people with dementia get violent when they are confused. But my daddy seems very sweet, so I don't know.
After his hospitalizations, I would visit a lot, caring for him, talking to him, watching shows together. And the days I didn't visit, my daughter would try to.
But then I got hurt in October or November sometime. Whiplash. And since then, I've been seeing less and less of Dad. My daughter still gets out to their place often once or twice a week, but she had her injury and illness too. I get out there when I can, but it's not as often at all. A few times a month, lately. I feel so guilty.
Then I reinjured myself, aggrivating the same back injury, to the point where I've spent most of my time in bed. I rarely even cook or take out the trash, lately, which burdens my daughter to do more work, even though she has her own shoulder injury, and has a job.
It's been since Christmas that I saw my dad. And I've only spoken to him on the phone a handful of times. My mother too. I've just been hiding an illness and injury, trying not to worry them. Or anyone in my world.
When I was there with my dad and talking to him a lot, he was doing so good, recovering from a couple severe brain injuries. With all the family's support he was speaking in full sentences, remembering great things. even apologizing for stuff that happened years ago, which of course I told him were non issues nowadays. He even made me something to eat and drink, which was really nice, because I was there to take care of him, and here he was recovering so well. We got really close.
I love my Daddy.
And so I have this massive sorrow, that compounds upon itself, every time I hear a report of my father's declining health. And I physically can't be there to help him. And then the sorrow puts me into panic mode, and I go severely nonverbal, so I don't call my folks. My daughter has seen me several times lately in such nonverbal grief and anxiety. It scares her when I'm like "The... the... the.. get the... please the... um... um..." I have never, ever been that way in front of her. I've always been able to mask until lately. It scares her so much and she's already dealing with my father's illness too.
My dad is the closest thing to a father that she has. And my father has for years been the only soft spot I have in my life. The only strong watchman. My only defender during times I was surrounded by vultures as a child.
He taught me great noble things about integrity, honesty, compassion, charity, self sacrifice. He is a steward of the land. He'd rather have no friends than the wrong kinds and made sure I followed suit.
I would watch him saddlebreak wild horses. One black stallion no one could ride. My dad wouldn't even have his leg over and the stallion would bolt. But my dad could hold on. He did not fall. He was the only one out of a group of great ranchers that could. I would watch in awe as he groomed and courted unbroken horses walking trusting getting closer, petting them. I believed he was superman.
He made sure, when no one else did, that I got to radiation every single day. He'd sit in the car with me, and would talk me into going inside, sharing intimate details about our past, and how much he needed me to fight. I am crying right now thinking of it.
And here I am laying in bed. My dad is becoming nonverbal. Not finishing sentences. Getting confused. More and more each day. This is the man that's shepherded and guided me all my life. And I'm not doing enough.
It puts me in panic mode, like a filly that got out of her corral and is bolting up the mountain, full speed, trying to find something she recognizes as safety and comfort.
And I can't do anything. I'm not doing anything.
I am very shy, and I love my Dad so much. I derive happiness from seeing him well taken care of. But right now I am the problem. I am the one needing help. But my Daddy needs it more.
I don't know what to do.
I feel horrible. Great sorrow beyond depression. I call it the big sad. And my verbal skills are going down too. The panic makes it so I've been speaking a lot in very short, simplistic sentences.
Am I exacerbating problems? Am I a burden? How do I help? I don't know, and I feel so scared and small.
I worked so hard yesterday, and wore myself out. Trying to forget for a moment. It didn't work, I just re-injured myself. And found out later that day that my daddy is doing even worse.
I am not helping. I think I am making things worse. And I don't know what to do.
I just want to help my dad, to spend time with him, care for him. I know that the lack of interaction in the days is harming him cognitively. I just want my daddy. I feel so useless.
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