Dad moved in 2 weeks ago. 2 weeks ago and I am looking for a break.
I am 38. I feel way too young to be dealing with this now. I have 2 children, just 8 and 6. My husband and I parted ways after 12 years just 5 months ago. It was a decision I made. I have moved house, sold my house and dad's house, converted part of the house in to an annex, and moved the kids to a different school. That's a brief summation of the last few months... and that's the tip of the iceberg.
I wanted somewhere to record the next chapter of mine and my dad's life. So much has happened in the last 2 years, and its impossible to relay and actually remember. Some of it has been too painful to record, and I have been so tired that it never occurred to me to blog about it, keeping a record. But in just over 2 years, out lives have changed so that they are unrecognisable. Dad's more than mine.
And here we are. Living together again for the first time since I was 6. In the north.
Briefest of history: Dad had a stroke in 2016. I had visited the week before and cried all the way home because I knew something wasn't right. In hindsight, his brain was being deprived of oxygen. Hindsight is a wonderful thing.
There have been many events and tiring episodes since then, but here we are February 2019, and Dad moved in with me 2 weeks ago. The story of how we got to this point may come out over the blog but its a long sorry tale.
Now we are looking down the barrel of vascular dementia. Its gonna be a tough road. Its already been a tough road. There is no brilliant solution. This is me making the best out of a bunch of bad options. And I have no idea if it will work.
This wont be a blog about the devastation of watching my loving wise father become caught up in a world of dementia... because that's not the story here. This is a way for me to work through the feelings of anger, resentment, grief and sadness. And I'm sure I'm not the only one.
I am 38. I feel way too young to be dealing with this now. I have 2 children, just 8 and 6. My husband and I parted ways after 12 years just 5 months ago. It was a decision I made. I have moved house, sold my house and dad's house, converted part of the house in to an annex, and moved the kids to a different school. That's a brief summation of the last few months... and that's the tip of the iceberg.
I wanted somewhere to record the next chapter of mine and my dad's life. So much has happened in the last 2 years, and its impossible to relay and actually remember. Some of it has been too painful to record, and I have been so tired that it never occurred to me to blog about it, keeping a record. But in just over 2 years, out lives have changed so that they are unrecognisable. Dad's more than mine.
And here we are. Living together again for the first time since I was 6. In the north.
Briefest of history: Dad had a stroke in 2016. I had visited the week before and cried all the way home because I knew something wasn't right. In hindsight, his brain was being deprived of oxygen. Hindsight is a wonderful thing.
There have been many events and tiring episodes since then, but here we are February 2019, and Dad moved in with me 2 weeks ago. The story of how we got to this point may come out over the blog but its a long sorry tale.
Now we are looking down the barrel of vascular dementia. Its gonna be a tough road. Its already been a tough road. There is no brilliant solution. This is me making the best out of a bunch of bad options. And I have no idea if it will work.
This wont be a blog about the devastation of watching my loving wise father become caught up in a world of dementia... because that's not the story here. This is a way for me to work through the feelings of anger, resentment, grief and sadness. And I'm sure I'm not the only one.
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