Pity Party for One

I’m dealing with parental drama and I’m so done with it. It’s keeping me from grieving Brielle and I hate it. I want to talk about it, but it makes other people angry. I don’t want to hurt anyone either. I just feel like I’m trapped. I’m trying to wrap my head around what kind of people they really are and it makes me sick. Of course, they’ll tell you that they have no idea what I’m talking about.

I feel like I’m drowning. I’m having to put Brielle on the back burner as I struggle with who my parents are, suddenly becoming a caregiver, moving Bernice into our home, and dealing with David’s family drama. I love Bernice and I’m not complaining, but I never have a moment to myself. She doesn’t understand time and to her forty five minutes is a very long time. It’s made checking the FB page and keeping it updated very difficult.

I’ve been looking into other forms of dementia and I don’t think Bernice has Alzheimer’s, but another form of dementia. Her dementia is very different and I’m not sure how to help her. She doesn’t follow the typical ALZ patterns. She’s bored, and it’s been challenging for the both of us. I want her to enjoy the time she does have, but I have no idea what to do.

David’s job is a nightmare. I have quite a few choice words for his boss. In fact, there’s nothing even remotely good about him. He’s a sexist good ole boy and I’d like to give him a piece of my mind. That being said, David is miserable and beyond stressed. He told me the other night that this is the worst place he has ever worked. I hate it for him and I hate it for his coworkers who are being treated like worthless cattle. Really, there’s nothing good to say about the Atlanta office. Oh, David’s coworkers and lower management are nice, they’re also the ones who are there almost every weekend and until very late at night.

Things are just so hard right now. I just want to relax and be sad. I want to sit on the couch and just cry. I want to hold Brielle Bear and be sad that I can’t hold Brielle and touch her soft baby skin. Instead the whole world is falling around David and I. We’re tired. We just want a break.

*sigh* I’ll have a pity party for one please. I’d like a large shot of magical calorie free cookie dough, bra free months, stretchy pants, and lots of Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy, please.