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Family of Origin
Hey, Cedar, or anyone interested in FOO (Family of Origin) issues. Cedar, WHY NOW???
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<blockquote data-quote="Copabanana" data-source="post: 657797" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p>We brought my mother home with us when it became clear that she no longer could return home. To a different town, maybe 5 hours away.</p><p></p><p>My mother loved it here. She loved my house which she had not seen before and wanted to buy one like it.</p><p></p><p>There was lots of adjustments <u><em>for us</em></u>. Arranging a day care program, finding physicians, getting medical equipment. For my mother, she was Queen for a Day. Mind you, already I had been in that other city for four months having left my job to see to her.</p><p></p><p>The writing had been on the wall. While in Rehab, when M was there, she would act out. Like a child or a prima donna, she would be. Demanding to be taken to the bathroom. I need two or three people to take, me she would assert. The compassion towards the powerless she had been so proud of all her life forgotten as she carelessly demeaned the predominantly Latina aides.</p><p></p><p>It had not been enough that I was there with her, all day into the night. Alone in her Condo, at night, M in another city. Away from home and animals.</p><p></p><p>None of it counted. And when I had returned home, just for 10 days, at Christmas she raged at me on the phone. "You throw me away like garbage."</p><p></p><p>But nothing compared to the job I had taken on. Slave. With perfect manners, she saw that life as I know it ended.</p><p></p><p>S can you help me to the bathroom please? S can you get me a kleenex, please? S can you get me a glass of water? 20 hours a day. And the other 4 she would roam the house. Come in our room. Disoriented, she would pee in the most unexpected places. The work was unending. My life I saw had ended.</p><p></p><p>Soon M began to be hostile. He saw her behavior as volitional. He saw her choosing to treat me so. </p><p></p><p>I didn't know. She clearly was ill, confused and demented. How could I hold her responsible?</p><p></p><p>M confronted me directly. It is her life or yours. And I, he said, think you are the more vulnerable. She is strong. You are dying. Choose, do you want to live or not. We can find a place for your mother to live close by. You do not have to die to take care of her.</p><p></p><p>I tried harder. I knew she was impaired. But I knew M was right. I tried still.</p><p></p><p>Finally, I saw I had no choice. There was no love in this arrangement. I did not do well self-sacrifice and she did not excel in gratitude or acceptance.</p><p></p><p>I told her directly, Mama, we have to find you your own place. It will be close by. I will come every day to visit.</p><p></p><p>S, I would do anything to stay with you. It's not an option M. I have to go back to work. We have to find another arrangement. We searched. She chose one. Really, I don't think it much mattered.</p><p></p><p>For the first week or so, it looked like it could have worked. We took her out for a haircut. To dinner, would would be her last meal in a restaurant. She was happy.</p><p></p><p>I continued to take her to doctors' appointments. The worst agony. She was confused. Disoriented. She spared me none of it. One morning I began screaming in the car. "You are my Mother. My Mother. Think about what that means. Protect me. I cannot stand any more. Protect me." Screaming. So loud that people heard me from other cars. I thought later, was it elder abuse. I am thinking now, more child abuse.</p><p></p><p>Soon after she became incontinent. Blank. Except when I would arrive. She would scream. Scream. Just scream.</p><p></p><p>I tried to talk to her. Mama, I begged her. She would not talk to me. Just fury. Fury at me. Because I had brought her to that place.</p><p></p><p>I was horrified. Nothing in life had prepared me for this agony. It was in these weeks that I first went to bed. That was March of 2013. </p><p></p><p>When I called before I came she told the caretakers she couldn't care less if I came or not. I would show up. She would scream.</p><p></p><p>Meanwhile the price of this place had almost doubled.</p><p></p><p>I took her to a neurologist. I wanted to get some kind of take on what was going on. The started screaming in the office. Said her Axxhole hurt. I didn't know what to do.</p><p></p><p>I took her to the doctor. The doctor called the woman to the clinic. Said she could not properly evaluate my mother, if the people who cared for her were not present. By this time the owners of the place were disgusted with me.</p><p></p><p>They felt I was not yielding to the reality that my mother was old and dying. They did not understand the reason for all these doctors. At the same time they did not like the loss of control and felt my visits were intrusions. </p><p></p><p>I had told the doctor that my mother complained of pain on her behind. When the owner came, she discounted my mother's complaints. She said my mother was attention seeking and had invented her complaint.</p><p></p><p>At the same time the doctor examined my mother and had found a horrible pressure ulcer that they had concealed.</p><p></p><p>Two times my mother aspirated and was hospitalized. The second time, she never went back. She stayed in the hospital. After that she came home. The screaming had stopped.</p><p></p><p>I have not been able to forgive myself for insisting that my mother leave my home. We ultimately turned the master bedroom and bath into a private space for her and brought her home, hiring 3 people to help us.</p><p></p><p>Why I ask myself, instead of throwing her out, did I not bring in people to help from the onset? </p><p></p><p>I think the only answer is this: First, the power of my mother's personality. She would not have stopped dominating me and consuming me even though 20 extra people had been their. Second, me. Ultimately, I made the decision when I brought my Mother home that I had surrendered my life to her and her needs. And I had done so because that was what I wanted to do, had chosen to do. </p><p>Three months prior I had not been ready to make her care the priority in my life.</p><p></p><p>Nothing, I mean nothing had prepared me for that, nor trained me to do so. She did not take care of her own parents. Whether my Mother would have done so for me, I do not know.</p><p></p><p>Writing this is very difficult for me. I fell in love with my Mother. In so doing, I gave up my own life. </p><p></p><p>When I told my mother that we had to find another living arrangement, I added. "Your life is not more important than mine." She responded "I know." </p><p></p><p>I write these words and I cannot find a way out from the pain. I cry as I type. Still, I would do anything, anything in this world to have chosen differently, to have kept her here with me. I believe I behaved cruelly and I almost never behave cruelly.</p><p></p><p>I still wish I had chosen her instead of myself. And I feel I will punish myself as long as I live for this error. Sometimes in my secret heart I blame M. It is his fault I tell myself. If he had not stuck up for me, I would not have not broken the rules of my family. To save myself.</p><p></p><p>I am far down on the totem pole. I broke the rules. I pay the price.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 657797, member: 18958"] We brought my mother home with us when it became clear that she no longer could return home. To a different town, maybe 5 hours away. My mother loved it here. She loved my house which she had not seen before and wanted to buy one like it. There was lots of adjustments [U][I]for us[/I][/U]. Arranging a day care program, finding physicians, getting medical equipment. For my mother, she was Queen for a Day. Mind you, already I had been in that other city for four months having left my job to see to her. The writing had been on the wall. While in Rehab, when M was there, she would act out. Like a child or a prima donna, she would be. Demanding to be taken to the bathroom. I need two or three people to take, me she would assert. The compassion towards the powerless she had been so proud of all her life forgotten as she carelessly demeaned the predominantly Latina aides. It had not been enough that I was there with her, all day into the night. Alone in her Condo, at night, M in another city. Away from home and animals. None of it counted. And when I had returned home, just for 10 days, at Christmas she raged at me on the phone. "You throw me away like garbage." But nothing compared to the job I had taken on. Slave. With perfect manners, she saw that life as I know it ended. S can you help me to the bathroom please? S can you get me a kleenex, please? S can you get me a glass of water? 20 hours a day. And the other 4 she would roam the house. Come in our room. Disoriented, she would pee in the most unexpected places. The work was unending. My life I saw had ended. Soon M began to be hostile. He saw her behavior as volitional. He saw her choosing to treat me so. I didn't know. She clearly was ill, confused and demented. How could I hold her responsible? M confronted me directly. It is her life or yours. And I, he said, think you are the more vulnerable. She is strong. You are dying. Choose, do you want to live or not. We can find a place for your mother to live close by. You do not have to die to take care of her. I tried harder. I knew she was impaired. But I knew M was right. I tried still. Finally, I saw I had no choice. There was no love in this arrangement. I did not do well self-sacrifice and she did not excel in gratitude or acceptance. I told her directly, Mama, we have to find you your own place. It will be close by. I will come every day to visit. S, I would do anything to stay with you. It's not an option M. I have to go back to work. We have to find another arrangement. We searched. She chose one. Really, I don't think it much mattered. For the first week or so, it looked like it could have worked. We took her out for a haircut. To dinner, would would be her last meal in a restaurant. She was happy. I continued to take her to doctors' appointments. The worst agony. She was confused. Disoriented. She spared me none of it. One morning I began screaming in the car. "You are my Mother. My Mother. Think about what that means. Protect me. I cannot stand any more. Protect me." Screaming. So loud that people heard me from other cars. I thought later, was it elder abuse. I am thinking now, more child abuse. Soon after she became incontinent. Blank. Except when I would arrive. She would scream. Scream. Just scream. I tried to talk to her. Mama, I begged her. She would not talk to me. Just fury. Fury at me. Because I had brought her to that place. I was horrified. Nothing in life had prepared me for this agony. It was in these weeks that I first went to bed. That was March of 2013. When I called before I came she told the caretakers she couldn't care less if I came or not. I would show up. She would scream. Meanwhile the price of this place had almost doubled. I took her to a neurologist. I wanted to get some kind of take on what was going on. The started screaming in the office. Said her Axxhole hurt. I didn't know what to do. I took her to the doctor. The doctor called the woman to the clinic. Said she could not properly evaluate my mother, if the people who cared for her were not present. By this time the owners of the place were disgusted with me. They felt I was not yielding to the reality that my mother was old and dying. They did not understand the reason for all these doctors. At the same time they did not like the loss of control and felt my visits were intrusions. I had told the doctor that my mother complained of pain on her behind. When the owner came, she discounted my mother's complaints. She said my mother was attention seeking and had invented her complaint. At the same time the doctor examined my mother and had found a horrible pressure ulcer that they had concealed. Two times my mother aspirated and was hospitalized. The second time, she never went back. She stayed in the hospital. After that she came home. The screaming had stopped. I have not been able to forgive myself for insisting that my mother leave my home. We ultimately turned the master bedroom and bath into a private space for her and brought her home, hiring 3 people to help us. Why I ask myself, instead of throwing her out, did I not bring in people to help from the onset? I think the only answer is this: First, the power of my mother's personality. She would not have stopped dominating me and consuming me even though 20 extra people had been their. Second, me. Ultimately, I made the decision when I brought my Mother home that I had surrendered my life to her and her needs. And I had done so because that was what I wanted to do, had chosen to do. Three months prior I had not been ready to make her care the priority in my life. Nothing, I mean nothing had prepared me for that, nor trained me to do so. She did not take care of her own parents. Whether my Mother would have done so for me, I do not know. Writing this is very difficult for me. I fell in love with my Mother. In so doing, I gave up my own life. When I told my mother that we had to find another living arrangement, I added. "Your life is not more important than mine." She responded "I know." I write these words and I cannot find a way out from the pain. I cry as I type. Still, I would do anything, anything in this world to have chosen differently, to have kept her here with me. I believe I behaved cruelly and I almost never behave cruelly. I still wish I had chosen her instead of myself. And I feel I will punish myself as long as I live for this error. Sometimes in my secret heart I blame M. It is his fault I tell myself. If he had not stuck up for me, I would not have not broken the rules of my family. To save myself. I am far down on the totem pole. I broke the rules. I pay the price. [/QUOTE]
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Hey, Cedar, or anyone interested in FOO (Family of Origin) issues. Cedar, WHY NOW???
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