A new post about status updates.

I have a post about Facebook nearly ready to go: this isn’t that one. This is also written in the app, so the potential for massive numbers of errors is making me anxious.

I’m sorry in advance for those that will inevitably show up. When I win the lottery, I’m renewing my subscription to Grammarly.

I’m sorry too to the people I follow and normally interact with. I’ve not been doing a good job of being present. I have a narrowed focus these days. I’m reading what you write, mostly, I just don’t have much energy when it comes to things to say.

I’ve not done a large number of posts about my mother’s stage 4 lung cancer, either. I haven’t written about the side effects of the chemo that’s supposed to buy time.

I didn’t write about what it was like to go to my parents and have to work out how to get my mother off the floor. One of the side effects of the drug regimen is a complete albeit periodic loss of muscle control.

My dad couldn’t help because he’s in congestive heart failure. He’s back in the hospital again, in fact. I was in emergency with him until the wee hours, only to awaken to numerous missed calls. He was trying to leave against medical advice.

I forgot to tell them he’s also been diagnosed with dementia.

This is why I don’t write about these things. The screen is hard to see when tears are falling and I don’t have time for that right now.

I’m possibly lonely – it’s hard to tell.

I could reach out to my friends, I suppose. I could reach out to my siblings. But they’ve shown time and again that they’re unwilling to exercise much effort when it comes to me unless I do the running. That’s how the relationships are structured and they don’t like the changes.

They expect me to change back.

They expect me to dump the boundaries. Lest you think I’m imagining that, one said it to me. As in, “I don’t think you need boundaries.” They were trying to change my mind on a “no.”

I find I’m unwilling. Tempted, but unwilling, though I struggle with the idea that by not changing back and becoming who I was, I’m being vindictive and small.

I hear my therapist in my head, asking questions. Do they know your parents are really ill? Do they know you’re close to your parents? Have you talked to them about how hard this is for you? Did you reach out to them when they were going through hard times?

The answer to all of the above is yes. I can, however, be too much, some of the time.

It’s possible there’s a middle ground. I don’t know if I’m interested in that either. I might have had my fill of compromise.

I know how this journey with my parents ends. I mean, life always ends with death, but I was hoping my parents’ deaths were going to be of the far-in-the-future variety, and who the hell is cutting onions?

Every day is something hard and awful. Finding care to help me give care. Convincing them that help is needed. Having to have the same horrible conversations with my dad because he’s not adding new memories very well.

Even non-horrible conversations bring grief. The same story for the thirteenth time that he’s thrilled to tell, so why would you harm that, but it’s hard.

Then there’s the one I had with my mother about not wanting to live life if it’s going to be this way. I remind myself, over and over, to hold space and listen, hold space and listen.

It’s hard.

Some might say that dropping Facebook at this time is wrong. I worry that it’s passive-aggressive. Except, I don’t get comfort from it, I don’t interact via it, and I gave everyone a heads up I was going. Those people I got contact information from. Here come letters.

I feel better.

Thanks.

That Facebook post is definitely coming.


19 thoughts on “A new post about status updates.

  1. Sounds like you have a lot on and it sounds like you are teally struggling holfing things together.
    I feel in parts with your writing, that I feel I am reading me.
    I hope you have someone you feel you can talk to otherwise I hope your blog helps as my blog does me.

    I have felt on my own for a long time. But there are a few places I can go for help, or mainly my counsellor if I need to go back that way.
    Of those few places I can get help, I find hard to approach sometimes because I have after all been on my own for years and the help I can get, its not like they have even seen 24 hours of my life at least to really see and feel what I have experienced.

    As for Facebook, I haven’t done that for some years and I would never dream of going back. The last time I left, I left because I felt alone there.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you 💝 I’m always grateful when other people say they experience the same things. It’s nice not to feel alone (and odd).
      I do have a good (and longstanding) relationship with my counsellor. I can’t wait for the next appointment. I plan for a lot of crying.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. That all sounds incredibly hard. I think the fact that you’re functioning at all and not hiding in a dark hole harming yourself in whatever way seems convenient is quite remarkable.

    Anyone who says “I don’t think you need boundaries” needs to be smacked upside the head.

    Fuck Facebook. You’ve got to survive.

    Hugs and love. ❤️

    Liked by 2 people

  3. A wise man once wrote: The courage it took to get out of bed each morning to face the same things over and over was enormous. May you find the courage and get out of bed, Michelle. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I’m so sorry things are so difficult. That sounds heartbreaking and incredibly difficult. You’re going through more than most people ever will. I can’t pretend to understand what it’s like to be you right now. But try to keep reaching out, even if it’s just through your posts here (you don’t need to feel guilty for stopping Facebook it can be toxic at the best of times). You deserve the same care for yourself that you clearly show to others. You’re going to get through this but it’s okay to lean on people you trust. I’ll be praying for you. Hang in there ❤️

    Liked by 1 person

  5. You have a lot going on so all I am going to say is this: take good care of yourself and you are the only one who can determine if something helps you. If it doesn’t, let it go. Huge bear hugs!

    Liked by 1 person

  6. I think in situations like these, things like Facebook can be detrimental to your health. People are posting about the stupidest of stuff when you are dealing with something so much bigger. (It makes me think of my recent Tweets… just ignore them if they annoy you at times.)

    This is a lot. Is your son able to help at all? He’s of the age that he should.

    All I can say is what I’ve been saying up until now – Stay golden!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I love interacting about things that aren’t this 🙂

      My son helps, but he also works full-time. I’m meeting with occupational therapists, home care support and elephants, oh my, next week.

      Liked by 1 person

  7. Losing your parents is sucky. I think losing them both at the same time is just tragic and incredibly emotionally confronting. The caring, the dealing with medical professionals and just existing seems to take up more brain space or emotional capacity than people generally have.
    Me? I would shut down, deal with the necessities and then hide away from the world which isn’t healthy. But then the people (family, friends) do offer to who help usually do. Of course for me then that’s the thought of great someone recognises how hard this is. Then along comes the double edge of wait are they only wanting to help because they think I’m doing a sucky job?

    Good luck. It’s hard and sucky and maybe you do need to do it on your terms.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. My friend wrote a book about writing a letter to all of her Facebook friends. I was the lucky recipient of one of those letters and can honestly say it was one of the most special gifts I’ve ever received. It’s amazing how when you take the time to really get to know someone beyond Facebook, you discover how much each person has suffered or is suffering. Most put on only their best for social media. You might be surprised by which of your friends comes to your rescue, even if your friendship was only as acquaintances previously. I say let people know when you need them.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. One of the worst things about social media is how it makes us so unidimensional. It’s like getting dressed in Sunday-best all the time.
      I’m glad you got to experience such a great gift. I love a good letter, not least because we can tuck them away for when we need a reread.
      Thanks for reading and commenting 🙂

      Liked by 2 people

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