A Week of Manic Activity Followed By Exhaustion

I gotta get to those back-posts, don’t I?

I know it…

Things are overall going well, but I feel like I’m scrambling all the time, and then I just… need to rest. It’s that whole “limited spoons” thing. My battery is lower than most people’s and if I push too hard and/or too long, there are consequences.

One of those consequences is exhaustion. I mean as in I can barely get out of bed for a few days type of exhaustion. Since I’m not fogging too much, keeping boredom at bay is key, and difficult. I’m emotionally worn out, so I don’t want to listen to or watch too much “reality” stuff  like the news or dramatic dark programs. I can’t take angst right now, even from FICTION.

But the world continues to turn.

This morning my mother fell down again, and my sister, who is living with her at the moment, could not get her up.

My mother is slightly overweight, but becoming less so each year. My sister is obese, but has lost quite a bit of weight over the last 3 years. Unfortunately, her knees are damaged from lugging her previous weight around for 2 decades, so she can’t LIFT heavy things like PEOPLE.

Erica ended up calling 911 (again! I swear they know my mother’s house by heart now) and the medics had to lift her up again. This time, she refused to go the hospital, likely because every time she goes, she is told she needs to be in a care home.

One of the medics was adamant in his tone (and who could blame him?) and scared my sister. He said the house was in violation of several county health and fire codes, and he was going to report it. I hope he does. I’ve tried and nothing happens. Hoarder’s houses are low on the governmental priority list. But it’s a condo– and half of a duplex. The next door neighbor already has vermin from this, should she deal with a fire that could take her home and her life because my mother is CRAZY?

At least, due to my own efforts and Reese’s, there was SPACE for medical people to come in to help. Before, they could barely even get in the door there was so much crap everywhere! But still it is awful… and the only thing keeping us from making it better is my mother.

I know she’s mentally ill. I know this is literally a form of retardation. The part of her brain that assesses value is broken, so she has fear that every piece of garbage could be potentially valuable, and the solution for hoarders is to throw next to nothing away, even when it all piles to the ceiling and causes all these problems. Their anxiety goes UP when things disappear, and goes DOWN when they gaze upon their hoard. I’ve read the studies. It’s enough to convince me that hoarders should not be allowed to have legal agency. They don’t have the basic discernment needed as an adult and they are a danger to themselves and others!! But their crazy is quiet and out of sight most of the time so people aren’t moved to do much– and things just get worse and worse.

I’ll be speaking to my sister and aunt later tonight. I’m at the point where I wish my mother would just fucking die quietly in her sleep already! I can’t stand the bullshit her level of crazy creates for everyone around her. I don’t love her anymore and I’m sick of her shit already. I was sick of it 20 years ago when I walked away. Being forced to address it all again makes me deeply resentful– it’s an ugly, dark feeling residing in me these days. I’m not proud of it, but it’s there.