I’m having a really hard time coping with Grandma’s health. The helpless feeling and frustrations with family have brought my grief for mom right back to the surface and I’m struggling so hard with it all over again. It hasn’t been long enough to think of losing her as an old would but the blood had clotted if I keep with my visceral wound metaphor. Now it’s fresh and painful again.
Yesterday was the most heavily my depression has weighed on me since the months following her death. It was that lead-limbed paralysis in body and mind that fills me with nothing/gray/noise. We finally took Emsybaby to the grandies and flopped into bed for a couple of hours. Bu napped and I sulked. After a while I rose and did some sketching and writing, and I’m so glad I shuffled my listless self into the studio. The insights I worked into were simple but needed. The obvious revelation that my sadness is normal and the unconditional permission to feel anything I feel were so necessary. I stumbled onto some almost lyrical phrases and images about my mom sorrow that will probably fuel some strong art pieces.
It felt like an enormous victory to have gotten up and touched ink to paper rather than wallowing in my bed.
My uncle’s coming from out of state and we’ll look at housing options for Grandma. There are some houses near her where it’s like two or three elderly residents I think and there are nurses but it’s very homey. I hope we can avoid anything at all institutional. Moving her at all hurts me so much… it’s still possible we could arrange home care at her place too. I’m going to research some on my own, see if my non-profit networking skillz can sniff out any help.
She called me three times last night worried she didn’t have her medicine for the morning. (My aunt went early today, as planned.) I hate not living with her. If I weren’t working I’d try to move there with the baby but what would that do to my marriage?