UhOh! NoNo NaNo

Grrrrr......that's right kiddies.  After getting everything ready for weeks, after outlining big chunks of plot, after inviting the characters into my head to play again, after stockpiling coffee and chocolates for the entire month of November - the girl has written NOT ONE FUCKING WORD toward the end goal. 

My mom was diagnosed with Alzheimers a couple months ago, started on the meds, did great, then ran out of meds, failed to tell us and the result was a certifiable disaster.  Where before she had very mild symptoms and was high functioning, now she is bad.  Every day there is at least one panicked phone call.  Sometimes the whole day is lost in repeating one question over and over.  Do you understand?  There are tears.  There is confusion.  OMG such confusion.  Arguing about stupid shit I know to be untrue.  This challenges me to breathe and recall that she really doesn't remember the other thousand times we have been over this.  The light of reason has died within her and all that remains is responding to the Because-I-Told-You-So authority.  And that just isn't me. 

Yes, it is like dealing with a toddler.  A big weeping 84 year old toddler.  But, unlike a toddler who will age out of it, she never will.  The best I can hope for is to get her back to a high-funcitoning AD.  It is infinitely more frustrating because she is NOT my child.  I did not decide to have this be part of my life.  I didn't wake up one morning and think 'Gee wouldn't it be great if I spent the next 5 or 10 years taking care of a senile woman?'  In fact, I wasn't consulted at all.  It just happened.  Sometimes that makes me furious that taking care of her supercedes big parts of my own life.  Then I get all guilty for being angry and a bit mopey if I let myself think of this as my only future.  Iwant to run away to someplace where my family can't find me.  Let them deal with her. 

What stops me is being true to me.  I know who I am.  And who I am at the very core is a kind and compassionate human being.  I love her no matter what has transpired in the past.  It's just hard becuase her pain and confusion so easily becomes my own.  Keeping a positive attitude (or in the least a compassionate and patient one) takes a lot of energy.  Energy that I used to channel into writing and other creative projects.  At the end of the day I feel a hollow shell with nothing left to put into those things.  I am left with the desire to create, but not the wherewithal to do so.

My goal for this week with her was simple - to get her to become compliant with the regime of her meds.  Who knew one little task could reduce me to a wiped out, yelling short-tempered bitch?  Probably anyone who has ever dealt with this evil fucking disease.  I find I just can't deal with any more whining (especially not my own), so today I am just giving up and letting the gnawing feeling of failure go. In the end whether I wrote and finished NaNoWriMo ever will not matter. In the end what will matter is how I view myself as a person 10 years from now......hell 10 minutes from now. And I know that I am making the right decision.