Not quite the plan

on finding my groove as a 30 something single girl and caregiver for mom with dementia


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Pick me up and bring me home.

This morning, Mom was staggering around tired just after getting out of bed.  I asked her how she was doing and she said to me, “I am drunk.  I want to lie down on the floor and wait for someone to pick me up and bring me home.”  As she said this, she gave me a long hug, a clinging hug.

The hug reminded me a bit of a time once in high school when I was feeling overwhelmed by the changes in my life.  I don’t remember anything specific about the context, but I remember hugging Mom and wanting to stay just like that, safe, for a long time.  It may have only been a moment but in my memory of that moment, I needed to stay just like that as long as I could with her support.  It’s funny how much her hug evoked that particular memory for me.

Mom was not drunk of course since she refuses all alcohol, but saying that she is drunk is one of her preferred ways to describe her experience of dementia.  The world around her is a bit beyond her capacity.  And the comment about bringing her home made me sad.  It’s all just my interpretation of course but I hear that as Mom wanting to go be home to her self.  To her functioning self.

Having a moment like this where Mom shows me how hard this is for her makes me appreciate all the more the positive face she usually keeps on.  This was the biggest complaint I have heard from her about her dementia.  I whine an awful lot more about much smaller problems!