RouletteWeekend

I felt like I was being so positive yesterday that nothing could ruin my optimism. And then the house woke up and I turned into a ball of up and down emotions.

I feel like all Will and I do these days is argue. And mostly over money. Which is my least favorite thing to argue about but I guess it’s probably the number one thing couples do get into it over. Couldn’t be something exciting like infidelity. He couldn’t slice things up and tell me he was gay and leaving me for a man. Honestly, I could use a little gay in my life right now. I probably would have begged to have his new boyfriend move in with us. At least then I’d have a live in BFF, but no, we like to argue about boring things like finances and home organization.

So what started as a misunderstanding in the kitchen over my last car payment, turned into a full blown hate fest seemingly all day. And when I say I’m exhausted, I’m fucking exhausted.

I’m quite sure he’s had it with my negative attitude and quick comebacks as well. I’ve had it with his tone. We knew this new arrangement wouldn’t be easy, but I guess we underestimated how difficult it would be. And then add to the conversation “why doesn’t Angie have a job” from mother in law and I really go over the edge.

That’s what happened yesterday. I was so proud of myself for mowing the day before and getting rid of all the leaves so the house looks presentable and like we are keeping up with the Joneses. Because that’s all that really seems to matter in this community. Not community. Just existing in houses that prove to everyone else that you’ve made it. You’re successful. Congrat-u-fuckin-lations.  So the yard looked great. My body felt like it was failing and after a 5 hour hard labor shift of making the yard look sterile per the HOA rules, “why doesn’t Angie have a job?” was the last thing I needed to attempt to explain…again.

There’s this unspoken rule in the dementia community that is kind of like fight club…we just don’t talk about it.

I hate that rule. I wouldn’t want the people around me, who love me, to just pretend that everything is fine when I know that some days I just DON’T know. To me, it seems cruel. I’m not saying that every time mother in law takes her rings off and can’t find them or misplaces her phone and I have to call her that I should say, “welp, Alzheimer’s got you again.” I’m not saying that at all, but when she says “why doesn’t Angie have a job?” I feel like the right answer is the brutally honest answer…”you have Alzheimer’s, the doctors say you need help, you are Angie’s job.” It’s not a jab. Sure, it’s a hard truth, but it’s a truth nonetheless. I’m not even saying that is the answer forever, but I feel like it’s OK that it’s the answer for now while she is in the early/middle stages.

She always says she wants to be part of the conversation, part of the decision making and for the most part, we want that as well even if she doesn’t truly understand the logistics fully.

For instance, she doesn’t understand why I keep taking furniture from downstairs and moving it upstairs. Will didn’t either until I showed him the dresser in the bathroom that used to be his dads. We cleaned it out and packed everything in boxes. I opened the drawers the other day to show him that they are full again of disposable underwear wrappers and used disposable underwear, dirty clothes, and random objects.

I went to the class. I know hiding things is a thing. And quite frankly, less drawers and cabinet doors means less places to hide things, but all they see is me trying to get rid of stuff. And I’m not. We are literally moving it all upstairs. Some into attic storage, but most into the spare bedrooms. By the end of the conversation, I basically had to tell both of them, “look, I’ve always been proactive. I look at what could go wrong and what could make life more difficult or confusing and I’m trying to stop it before it happens.” Her bedroom has mostly stayed the same besides the sewing equipment we are moving in there so she can try to get back to sewing (if she can remember). Also, for every piece of furniture I made disappear, I made 5 pieces of her hidden artwork from the attic re-appear. I think it was a fair trade off. It’s not like I went out and bought updated light fixtures and abstract art. I made her house more cozy and functional for her and for us.

I guess a lot of my problem is that Alzheimer’s is so one sided and I think I’ve always gone against the grain. Yes, I know familiarity is necessary, but the trade off is that she is still in her house that she was very adamant about not leaving. She won the war. All I’m trying to do is win a few battles that will make all of our lives easier. And that, my friend, is way easier said than done.

Having it out with them did make me feel better. I was able to go right to sleep feeling like some of the weight of the world had rolled off me onto the other side of the bed and I woke up ready to tackle the day which includes going to get a loveseat and two reclining chairs from the internet for a steal, getting a UHaul and emptying out our last storage unit and hopefully living to tell about it tomorrow.