Snap, like that
Finally, came out of it. It started four days ago when Mom came out of surgery.
Mom had open heart surgery to repair an aneurysm in her aorta. She knew about this a year ago, but now it was in the “dangerous” category and needed to be fixed. I was on board- was there for the surgery, I was called the night of about her two seizures, I stayed at the hospital all day then all night with my dad, Scott spent every other night. Until four days ago. Four days ago, I found out that Scott was going to Reno for a four day bowling tournament (after he mentioned that he was going golfing) So, I was going to be the primary caregiver for both parents - Dad has memory issues and is coming off seizure protocol. The going back and forth, spending every other night in a bed/hot house, and mindlessness at the hospital was wearing on me. Add, full responsibility for both parents. When they talk about fight, flight, fawn . . . I went from fawn (complying) to flight (shutdown). My PTSD(c) was triggered. I was going to be abandoned with the person who caused the trauma. I was going to be forced into a corner with no way out. I started making a list of all the things I would not put my son through, which was in process. She asked me what I would do if I had the diagnosis “Would you have the surgery or not?” I told her that it wasn’t for me to decide. However, HELL NO! I wouldn’t have had the surgery! How selfish is that! Putting the people I love on hold, burden them with my care, so I could live a few extra days, months, years. To me, it was a sign - get your affairs in order and live. Needless to say, my own thoughts were an obstacle. Now, you want me to care for this person who caused my trauma? I understand that Scott wasn’t there, doesn’t remember, whatever. My perception is my reality and believe it or not, there are others who saw the “C” in C-PTSD. (I developed cellutitis under my eye during this.) I vented on a fb group about my situation. And wouldn’t you know, sil Kim, discovered it and flipped it back on me. Once again, I am the crazy one who can’t handle things. “This is how you remind me of what I really am.” My family doesn’t validate any of my diagnosis - Bp2, PTSD, GAD. Well, maybe GAD because they have seen the physical symptoms, but they will never validate why I have those symptoms. I have always fought for attention and she has always maintained control. The narcissistic behavior - for example, if something happened that I was proud of it was something she did to make it happen. When it came to caring for Devin, every day I picked him up it was “you should do this or that” “you need to do this or that” “why haven’t you done this or that?” She has to be in control of me, never my brother. NEVER! So apparently, someone, like me, in a relationship with this type of person, my mother, will have no boundaries, is desperate for approval (some say this leads to perfectionism), and builds extreme tolerance. When boundaries are set, I become the crazy one and then flight happens. It happened today. “I’m so glad this happened now while you’re not working. Well, while it’s summer and the weather is good. This would have been terrible in the winter.” “I’m just worried about something happening to him and no one knowing. I mean someone needs to check on him in the mornings.” So I asked if he wanted me to spend the night. He said “no.” She went on about “If he doesn’t show up, I guess I can call you to go check on him but you’re 30 minutes away. We don’t know anyone else. We don’t know our neighbors.” Thankfully, Devin was there so he could witness all of this. What is so interesting to me is how she wants the nurses to be “on demand” and how the minute I show up its “will you do . . .” or “I need you to do . . .” I understand that she can’t do things herself and maybe it’s because of the previous control issue or my hypervigilant independence . . . regardless, I have no sympathy.
My cellutits is getting better (2 trips to medcheck). My legs have been aching. So, I took a walk this morning. It helped. Tonight, I had tingling in both forearms. The body knows! I told myself when this started “Your life as you know it will never be the same.” BTW- Today was their 64th anniversary. I never tell them “Happy Anniversary” because he should have divorced her 40 yrs ago. The verbal abuse I witnessed set the tone for what I would not tolerate. I lost respect for both of them- the way she yelled and belittled him, and the way he put up with it. However, I did suggest that they have a nice dinner together. I brought dinner to rehab so they could eat together. Actions speak louder, am I right?
