UGLY BUGABOO
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I hate, I hate, I hate...

Sometimes, when I think about what it is I hate...

4/28/2018

2 Comments

 
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ON a scale from 1-10 with 1 being sweet little ball of sunshine, and 10 being SATAN. Thursday night my grumpiness was at 8.5, Satan's minion.

What was on my mind?

I was in countdown mode by 9PM. I would have to be up at 3:45 AM the next morning in order to leave for work by 4:30 AM. So that meant, in the mental Olympics taking place in my brain mathematically calculating the time that I would need to:

get up, sneak into mom's room, get her meds container, fill it up, sneak back into her room, put it back, feed the dog and cat, keep dog from barking, pack my bag, hide the caretaker's money (to keep mom thinking caretaker is a friend of mine), get in the bathtub, dry, dress, take my supplements, and put on my "I'm awake face and attitude" so that I am ready for the "and they're off" pace that will smack me upside the head once I leave the apartment.

Thursday night my mom was just primping and patting her new little hairdo. She did look cute, and she was so happy. Little did she know that I had shipped her off that morning $30 short of what she needed to get her hairdo refreshed. When her caretaker texted me the price for the hairdo, $130, the financial overload of this thing I'm doing had me feeling stupid and incapable of doing any of what I'm doing for my mom. I packed $100 for the day thinking it would be $40 for hair, and the rest for lunch or dinner, and maybe something else mom might want to get. $100 was a lot to ship mom off with, but the hair might cost as much as $45 and mom might want to tip. So I was playing it safe, I thought.  I forgot that her caretaker had her hair braided the last time she took her to get her hair done back in February.

How the hell did you FORGET, Bugaboo?

Even though her hair had been braided for nearly two months now, I guess in my mind my mom still sported her alien/conehead look:


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She loved that old look.  

But it really was kind of conehead-ish. 

The caretaker hated it and one day asked if she could get my mom's hair redone. I agreed. She got it braided, and I liked the braids. But sometimes, I guess, I still see how it has always been... 
​So when I snapped the picture of her Thursday night, my grumpy evening, my grumpy evening among many grumpy evenings, it wasn't until I looked at the tiny series of shots I snapped that I saw her again for the first time in a while.

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While I see her cute little face, I see too how prissy she is by the way her hands are poised around her face. I see too how she loves to look pretty. Pretty is important to her...it always has been now that I think about it. I see too how growing older is scary when what you are used to is taken away from you. I also see a little child who is exceptionally vulnerable. I see how she is so pleased with what she sees (for the first time in a long time since she's been with me these past months she is pleased). I see how her left eye doesn't get to see what it is that finally pleases her. I see how her right eye is satisfied. I see the transformation in her from December to now. I see that fragile beauty who I allowed to stay home alone in a house alone in a city far away from me where she sat exposed and available for vultures and predators to have their way with her devouring her flesh, poisoning her spirit, sacrificing her very life, replacing memories of me and my cousin with deceitful images of themselves as me and Shirley, my cousin.

I was so grumpy Thursday night. I was grumpy and I was feeling like an ass for being so damn grumpy. 

When I think about what it is I hate...
I hate...
  • That she's not who she used to be.
  • I have to be responsible for her ALL OF THE TIME.
  • Coming home and: I have to check on her, walk the dog, feed the cat, clean the litter box, clean the toilet before I use the toilet because she has probably had an accident.
  • Sharing my groceries when my budget is so damn little.
  • Sharing my favorite ice cream I bought for myself.
  • Sharing my favorite vegetarian foods with her when they cost so damn much and she's not even a vegetarian.
  • Watching another damn game show (but I have now come home, sat down and announced "My time with the remote control" but I still have to pick a show that is okay for her: not too this or too that).
  • That I have to sit down with her when I come home even if I am tired (after living by myself for so many years, I am just used to coming home and doing what I want with no explanations).
  • Being the one who is now responsible for the budget for the two of us (she's expensive) and boy have I eff'ed that up a couple of times.
  • That I am tired so much of the damn time; hell, ALL OF THE TIME I'm tired.
  • That I have to let people into my home even when it's so disgusting.
  • That my life no longer feels like my own.
  • I have to do so much of my own stuff while she is sleeping and then pretty much do the same things all over again but with her later in the day, Saturdays especially.
  • That her behavior is so often inappropriate which gets in the way of our going to church or for a walk outside.
  • That I have to let so many new people into my life and tell them sh*t about me when I used to be so damn private.
  • That I am now paying bills for my apartment and her house like 100% of the time, and I suck at it.
  • That my house is a disgusting mess in every room, but it is now 6:47 AM and if I want to exercise I have to leave and do that now, because by 11 AM my time will no longer belong to me for the rest of the day because I don't have a caretaker on the weekends (except for exceptions, but exceptions cost).
  • That I have to be more mature about doing my work for class, or my personal projects, and not be the procrastinator that I so much enjoy.
  • That I have to effin' grow the eff up. I'm not ready for this sh*t.
  • The looks I get when I go to church or am around people I know when my mom is with me misbehaving. They give me their pitying looks (I mean, it is rather pitiful and I'd give those look too, but I am not too fond of it at this time now that it's me and my mom).

Well, it's 6:48 AM ​and I have to get started if I want to have "my time."



2 Comments
superiorpapers com link
6/12/2018 02:26:24 am

Life is to short to waste energy on so much hate. Yet sometimes, we can't help it. Hating is simply fun. As long as you don't take all these hate seriously or "passionately" as some hate connoisseurs may address it, maybe it is perfectly fine to be in such state of drowning sarcasm. Yes, sarcasm maybe the best way to go because no one really wanted to be that offensive. We are mostly content just having a few people understand the insult we just thrown. It is also perfectly fine to throw this at our own.

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Ugly Bugaboo link
6/12/2018 03:01:17 am

Thank you for taking the time to express yourself. Probably like you, I write in a rush often and then must edit on a regular basis; okay, all the time. So I knew you meant "life's TOO short to hate." I make errors all the time so I get it. However are you aware of your content error. There is nothing sarcastic about my hating dementia. I'm going to dictionary dot com that for you: de·men·tia

dəˈmen(t)SH(ē)ə/

noun

MEDICINE

a chronic or persistent disorder of the mental processes caused by brain disease or injury and marked by memory disorders, personality changes, and impaired reasoning.

synonyms:mental illness, madness, insanity, derangement, lunacy

"her failing memory is not necessarily a symptom of dementia"

So there is nothing sarcastic in my hating dementia and what it does to its host and the host's family and friends. Read any of my postings either on my home page or my blog page and you will see why I hate. Read the title of my home page with the definition of dementia and you will know what I hate. I am new to this journey of dementia. I have only known Alzheimer's disease from a distance. I never thought it's family member (so to speak) would crash my home.

Dementia is nothing to love or like, so take care of your brain's health right now.

P.S. Try to avoid pain meds, over the counter or prescribed, at all costs. There may be a strong correlation between pain meds and dementia and Alzheimer's disease.

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