Because sharing is caring. Today I'm having one of the bad days, and not coping well, so though writing something down would help.
My mum was diagnosed with dementia earlier this year at the young age of 62. My initial reaction was oddly, relief. Something had been wrong for a long time and it felt good to have a name. I decided I was going to deal with this then and told all my close friends immediately so that it was out there. I told them that getting a diagnosis was good as it meant we could get the support she needs and could understand her better. I thought the worst was over and now we had the diagnosis things would only get better. Little did I know I was very much in denial.
When your parent is sick your whole life changes. There are many days that just float by and you get on with your new role of carer to your parent. You are calm, compassionate and ensure your parents initial needs are always met. You think of how wonderful your parent has been all your life, how lucky you were to have those years. You feel like you're doing ok for them, that they are safe and feel loved. Then there are the other days. The days when you feel like you're drowning. You think of your friends and the security their parents still give them. You think of all the firsts your parent won't fully partake in, graduations, weddings, grandchildren. You wonder how your life took this turn, this isn't the way things are supposed to be. You feel like you can't cope. All those friends and family members that promised you could always talk to them feel a million miles away. You couldn't share how you really felt anyway. How you often find yourself shouting out of frustration, crying tears of hurt and lack of understanding. Then comes the worst part of these days, the guilt. You shouldn't be making this about you, your parents have sacrificed everything for you so why can't you for them? You shouldn't have been so angry and should have just reminded them that they are loved. You find it too painful on these days to share with others how you feel. You know they'll jump in with the loving "you're so strong" "you're so compassionate". Hearing this makes you feel sick to your stomach with guilt as you've been non of those things. It's these days that you feel the most alone and just want your sick parent to reassure you that you're doing good enough.
Nobody tells you what you're supposed to do when you are told your parent is sick. There is no handbook on how to deal with all your emotions whilst caring for a parent. Nobody tells you how to fight the isolation. Nobody tells you that it's ok to hurt, and cry and share. Nobody tells you how to love a sick parent, you have to learn these things for yourself.
But there are the good days, and that is something to be thankful for. There are the days your parent makes 'normal' conversation with you. There are the days they say how proud of you they are. There are the days when they remember to tell you they love you before bed. There are the days you see them briefly smile, or hear them laugh. There are the days that you see the a glimpse of who they used to be, before they were a diagnosis. These days are bittersweet. You realise how much they have taught you through thierillness. The true value of unconditional love.
My mum was diagnosed with dementia earlier this year at the young age of 62. My initial reaction was oddly, relief. Something had been wrong for a long time and it felt good to have a name. I decided I was going to deal with this then and told all my close friends immediately so that it was out there. I told them that getting a diagnosis was good as it meant we could get the support she needs and could understand her better. I thought the worst was over and now we had the diagnosis things would only get better. Little did I know I was very much in denial.
When your parent is sick your whole life changes. There are many days that just float by and you get on with your new role of carer to your parent. You are calm, compassionate and ensure your parents initial needs are always met. You think of how wonderful your parent has been all your life, how lucky you were to have those years. You feel like you're doing ok for them, that they are safe and feel loved. Then there are the other days. The days when you feel like you're drowning. You think of your friends and the security their parents still give them. You think of all the firsts your parent won't fully partake in, graduations, weddings, grandchildren. You wonder how your life took this turn, this isn't the way things are supposed to be. You feel like you can't cope. All those friends and family members that promised you could always talk to them feel a million miles away. You couldn't share how you really felt anyway. How you often find yourself shouting out of frustration, crying tears of hurt and lack of understanding. Then comes the worst part of these days, the guilt. You shouldn't be making this about you, your parents have sacrificed everything for you so why can't you for them? You shouldn't have been so angry and should have just reminded them that they are loved. You find it too painful on these days to share with others how you feel. You know they'll jump in with the loving "you're so strong" "you're so compassionate". Hearing this makes you feel sick to your stomach with guilt as you've been non of those things. It's these days that you feel the most alone and just want your sick parent to reassure you that you're doing good enough.
Nobody tells you what you're supposed to do when you are told your parent is sick. There is no handbook on how to deal with all your emotions whilst caring for a parent. Nobody tells you how to fight the isolation. Nobody tells you that it's ok to hurt, and cry and share. Nobody tells you how to love a sick parent, you have to learn these things for yourself.
But there are the good days, and that is something to be thankful for. There are the days your parent makes 'normal' conversation with you. There are the days they say how proud of you they are. There are the days when they remember to tell you they love you before bed. There are the days you see them briefly smile, or hear them laugh. There are the days that you see the a glimpse of who they used to be, before they were a diagnosis. These days are bittersweet. You realise how much they have taught you through thierillness. The true value of unconditional love.
