Hey
@wizardofid how are things with you? It's been some time since you've been on your own and I hope you've been recovering somewhat. I know nothing gets fixed within months and even years after what you've been through but hope you are ok. I tried to have a conversation with my own mom yesterday (who is in special care) and I could not believe how much she has deteriorated. Just hope you processing things at a pace and finding some new life.
Actually doing pretty good.
I have used AI quite a bit over the last few months as an outlet, so to speak. Lol, sounds kind of weird, but it has actually done wonders. It isn't so much about what the AI says. It is being able to offload whatever you are thinking in that particular moment.
It isn't really about judgement or even necessarily getting to the bottom of something. It is just a way of saying, behind closed doors, the things you generally can't say out loud without someone getting all butthurt about it.
Some of it can be quite morbid and sensitive, especially having to talk about her actual death. Things like what happens afterwards, the mundane aspects of the funeral, the admin side, expectations, how things are likely to play out, etc. Stuff that generally makes people uncomfortable and that you don't necessarily want to dump on another person.
For the last few months, though, it was basically about being functional. Eat, sleep and shyte. That was about it. Then setting tiny goals. "I've been looking at that spot on the wall for six months. Let's clean it." And then you clean the fcking spot on the wall.
I think it is pretty hard to explain to someone what caregiver burnout actually is. The assumption can be that the person is simply being lazy, doing nothing, or has lost motivation.
It is a very real thing, though, and it can take months to recover from. Some people bounce back relatively quickly. Others don't.
Forcing yourself back into normal society before you are ready isn't necessarily going to do anyone any favors either.
I still have pretty much the same sentiment towards the extended family, they can fck off.
What I posted to them last year clearly stuck. About two months ago, one of her sisters came to visit her for the weekend, all the way from Bela-Bela. They have a timeshare place here in the Free State, so it isn't like they specifically traveled all that way just to see her.
I was a mere 36 km away and they didn't even bother letting me know or giving me a call.
So they are avoiding me like the plague, which is perfectly fine by me. Could be guilt, could be embarrassment, could be something else. I honestly don't care.
What annoyed me slightly is that they have now seen her in a state where she appears entirely relaxed and, on the surface, almost normal. But that is the nature of FTD. What you see on the surface doesn't necessarily reflect the extent of what has already been ravaged underneath.
Her other sister came to visit the family all the way from Greece, the shyte-stirrer, who I would personally like to uppercut in the vagina.
The open letter they got on WhatsApp basically achieved exactly one thing, don't fck with me. I won't take kindly to it. You want to dish it out, then be prepared to get the same back, unreservedly. You want to have commentary on the situation, then actually do something about it. Otherwise, STFU.
My middle brother has basically been swallowed by the void itself. I haven't heard from him since December last year.
All of the financial responsibility is currently split between me and my eldest brother. He helps with the hospice rent and I handle pretty much everything else: toiletries, nappies, snacks, whatever else she needs.
I visit my mom once a month, check what she needs, do her shopping and that's the job done.
There is no guilt attached to not seeing her every week, because there really isn't much point to it. She has zero concept of time. Yesterday, tomorrow, next week, none of it really means anything to her anymore.
The separation and being relegated to a few minutes of interaction each month is actually ideal. It will be different to each person, I am just doing what works best for me. You may feel the need to go more often.
It may sound brutally harsh, but it really isn't. You aren't dealing with the same person you used to know, whose feelings are going to be hurt because you didn't visit every other day.
With advanced dementia, and particularly FTD, you can end up introducing unnecessary friction simply because you feel guilty about not being there. Their attention span and tolerance for interaction can be extremely limited.
So people need to get over the guilt. You don't have to be there for someone every waking minute just because they have dementia.
Like I said previously in this thread, I am essentially doing my obligation to keep her alive. I said my goodbyes many moons ago. At this point, my role has effectively been reduced to a monthly bill, shopping list and admin duty.
It sounds incredibly harsh when you put it like that, but there is a perspective shift that happens when you realize someone is essentially dying and has been given a death sentence by a disease.
Especially when the process is a long one.
You almost work through the stages of grief while the person is still alive. It sounds weird, but you essentially have months or years to prepare yourself for the eventual death. Grieving a person while alive is also a very real thing.
It is a strange thing to explain. You become emotionally detached, not because you don't care, but because you have had to separate the person from the disease and from the inevitable outcome.
Even with my eldest brother, the dynamic changed over the last two years.
At first, every other conversation was about her. Then, as we both worked through it, it became less and less about her and more about our own lives. We message each other on WhatsApp pretty much every day and video chat every other day.
Now it is basically one call a month after I have visited her, just to give him an update on her condition.
As for being alone, I realize that may be an alien concept to some people, especially those who thrive on constant social interaction.
For me, being a social hermit is actually what works.
I love the quiet and stillness. I can play music at midnight, get up at 2 AM and play games, make food, make coffee, whatever the fck I feel like doing, without having to worry about waking somebody up or disturbing them.
I think people sometimes forget how much of themselves they give up when they live in close proximity to other people.
You don't necessarily notice it because those compromises become part of everyday life.
But when you finally have complete control over your own space, your own time and your own routine, you realize just how much freedom you had been giving away without really thinking about it.
My final thoughts are that it is a weird experience to try to explain to someone.
When your dad or mom passes away, suddenly everything happens at once. The death, the funeral, the admin, the physical removal of the person and then dealing with the fact that they are simply no longer there.
I've had to deal with those things out of order.
I've already had to deal with the physical aspect of her not being here. I've already done most of the admin that can be done beforehand, and I've had years to deal with the reality of her eventual death.
When it actually happens, what is left is largely the funeral and whatever admin can't be done until then.
It is weird, and I don't expect everyone to grasp it or necessarily be able to wrap their head around it.
But having to deal with things out of order has, in a strange way, been a blessing. Especially the separation.
I've already had months to get used to the house being without her. I've already had time to adjust to my life continuing without her physically being here.
So when the final phone call eventually comes, I don't think I'll be dealing with all of that at once.
I will obviously be sad. But I think I'll also be able to celebrate her life rather than being completely consumed by the suddenness of losing her.
I will say I am definitely not in that utter pit of despair of hopelessness I was in previously.