Even When I’m A Mess, I Still Put On A Vest, With An ‘S’ On My Chest
Still feeling guilty today about an outburst yesterday. I completely snapped. Got in from work, feeling tired. Did my usual checks through the house and couldn’t find nan’s purse. Getting quite worked up about it, we used to have one hiding place and now it seems there is about 50. And all the time I was searching nan was hovering, an questioning. “what are you doing?” “why do you want my purse?” “what are you looking for?” Finally found the purse and as I was checking through it nan was hovering right over me. “what are you doing, what are you doing, what are you doing, why have you got my purse, what are you doing with my money, why are you taking my money”. And I flipped. I told her to leave me alone, I had just got in from work, I was tired and I shouldn’t have to get in from work to hunt for things that should be kept in the same place. And as I was trying to help her, I would appreciate not being accused of stealing and could she please just go and sit down and leave me alone for five minutes.
Ordinarily I would have coped very well with this situation, just auto piloting the same sentence of reassurance. But yesterday I had had enough. I wanted some me time, true genuine me time.
I did apologise. And of course nan couldn’t remember once dinner was made. But I still feel foul. Like a truly horrible person. It’s been a while since I flipped at nan, and I thought I was able to get out of those situations and handle them better.
I understand though that it’s normal, and I guess, OK to have days where you can’t handle any more interrogations, invasions of personal space, or whatever it is that triggers you. It just makes me feel guilty that I can’t be this perfect superman figure, who has it all worked out.
I guess we all have our cracks, just some people keep them well hidden. And others crack on the surface, for everyone to see. And why should I hide my cracks? They are a part of my relationship with nan, as much as the dementia is.