2023 started with Covid, a spinoff from the Christmas family gathering. Taking care of Mom wasn't a piece of cake when bed-ridden with the nasty stuff. As I recall Mom didn't get sick which was a blessing and a half.
Throughout the year a butting of heads took place between caretaker me and losing it Mom. Learning on the job wasn't easy. And sleep was a dream that evaded me. So many stories could be told but what's the point now? A dementia label for revisiting that rabbit hell(hole) exists.
Yours truly was ill to the extent that I told my therapist I might not stop being sick until I quit taking care of Mom. A cold assessment but a realistic one? I thought so. I thought wrong at the time but had to wait until time told me otherwise.
That summer I did do some therapy. The nuts and bolts were going to fly off of me at any moment and so seeing a shrink seemed helpful. She was friendly, calming, and a good listener but after a while I sensed something awry.
What was awry? The therapist? No. Her approach? No. Me? Yes.
Wack-A-Mole. I was playing it with my issues. It was a game I grew tired of. One day I thought maybe the solution for a weary "form" was a lively "substance". Wasn't I spiritually dry? Didn't I need God in my life desperately? My problem was a spiritual one.
Summer became Fall which fell into Winter as Mom declined further. I miss her so much now. Actually, I miss Mom, pre-dementia. R.I.P Mom. I'm getting ahead of myself as she still breathed this life's air as 2023 closed.
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