I'm Not Responsible For Mom's Happiness
Mom's energy drains me. She walks through the house like Igor, clump, drag, clump, drag, clump, drag. She has a bad hip and bends over when she walks and kind of walks sideways and limps. Her day starts with coffee and after that I'm responsible for everything. She sits in her chair all day, slumped over, sleeping off and on, mostly on.
She can't carry on a decent conversation and all conversation is limited and redundant. She can't see the TV and she has an annoying habit of rubbing her face in a set pattern all day long, constantly, continually. I have to make and bring the meals to her chair. Her entire life is lived in that chair.
Do I sound mean? I'm not.
I have dedicated a lot of my life to her well-being. So much in fact that what drains me is I can't give her happiness.
She's not a miserable, complaining being, she's just at a time in her life when her energy contributes nothing. It's just a dependent energy, that weighs heavy on me. It's like a big Baby Huey for those of us who remember that cartoon character.
She depends on me for everything. The very food she eats to her connection to the outside world. I leave the house when I want, but she always wants me in the house. She tells me everyday, I don't know what I would do without you.
When she is awake in her chair she mumbles "oh dear God" over nothing and I suppose for everything. That sums up her life. And that's
the energy that drains me.
She is only here, because she is still here. No other reason. No goals, no nothing. Just sit in a chair, in front of a TV you can't see, and want the world (me) to give her life.
As human beings, we like to surround ourselves with the living. Vibrant energies with ideas, conversation, contribution, exchange. I have a healthy 60 year old energy. She has a waning 96 year old energy. Mom in fact probably wants this too.
The problem is, I am the sole provider. It's all take from her and no give to me. I'm responsible for hers and mine. I do fine with mine. But she will never reach those peak levels of happiness from her younger years.
This morning I was up at 6am, walked the dog, walked my own 3 miles, had breakfast, was happily planning my day in my own space, when she clumped into the room. Before she even said a word I felt that energy drain. She comes and sits in her chair and doesn't even bother to turn on the TV. She doesn't say a word.
I'm writing this and she is sitting five feet away saying nothing. The only sounds are the clock ticking and her swallowing her coffee, coughing and blowing her nose. I wonder how long we would sit like this before she would even bother to turn on the TV or start a conversation.
Then she says, it's so quiet in here! Like I'm responsible for bringing the very life into this room and her day...and sadly, I am.