Struggling

Moving to The Nook in August 2017 was an exciting but daunting prospect. I had moved to Somerset in 1997 in a determined effort to get away from my parents - it backfired; they bought a house down there where I lived for 19.5 years. Moving back to Reading was exciting because it offered me so many more opportunities (especially coinciding with my youngest going off to uni and my own graduation) but it also represented a huge step backwards.

I haven't moved back to square one exactly...I am in the house next door. So much closer to my dad than I would ever choose to be. But approaching 40 and still working part time as a cleaner, and with my parents in their 70s, I acknowledged it was the only logical thing to do.

Perhaps in some regards I have caused my own misery - I planned the move for 2.5 years, I bought new and new-to-me things to put in it, I imagined joining the local Egyptology society, finding a half decent job. Even after I realised my eldest would be moving in after uni I thought we're two adults sharing, I can have my life back.

And that is saying a lot. I went from an unhappy childhood to lone teenage parenthood where I stayed until my kids were full grown ready-to-vote adults. It's not a matter of getting my life BACK so much as finally being able to BEGIN.

How it actually worked out wasn't too bad, to begin with. The elder beastie and I found jobs straight off. Neither job was especially fabulous but Erin got a decent wage while I was gaining vitally important experience - I'd already been told I couldn't get my dream job because I had no experience of cash-handling or customer service. Those boxes were finally getting ticked. Six weeks later I graduated; a month after that it was Erin's turn. Autumn 2017 was all mortarboards and gowns ;)

We had a first Christmas at The Nook - the first time I had had a 'full' family Christmas since I was a nipper. There were only six of us but that was double the usual and it felt so important.

In March I had my 40th birthday. I don't mind being 40 but 41 still feels a step too far, which is unfortunate as it is now approaching particularly rapidly. By this point I was particularly stressed with work - my 4 hours a week sales assistant contract having been totally disregarded I was now often working 40+ hours and running the whole shop several days a week. I don't know how much clearer I could have been that I did not feel trained or prepared for such a level of responsibility...I was actively looking for another job.

Then it all changed.

I've already blogged about my mum's stroke but so newbies don't have to trawl through all my opinionated potato wafflings the basics are:

My mum suffered a severe stroke on 16th April 2018 affecting both hemispheres. She was not treated as such because they failed to diagnose her for 24 hours (apparently the NHS can only recognise strokes if they only affect one hemisphere, despite the fact it was bloody obvious to us laypersons and we said so repeatedly) they just offered support and physio through the worst of the aftermath. She was in hospital for 9.5 weeks.

There was never any question that she would come and live with me after. There just weren't any other options. Her flat was inaccessible to her.
Her partner's health was too poor to be her carer - he's been hospitalised several times already this year - and his house would have required adaptations. My stepdad rings every day to check in but I get so frustrated at hearing about him spending time with his mates or going out to play boules (or whatever it is). Does he think I *want* to hear that?! He has his freedom because I have the responsibility; I likely won't be seeing my friends again. TBH if it was down to him my mum would've had to go into a home cos he just couldn't have done the things I do. 
Even if she and my dad had still been together whilst his health is better he's still mid 70s, and again the house would need adapting. Even he talks about the difference all this makes to his life...he literally visits my mum an hour or two a day. From right next door. Yeah, sure, this has made a HUGE difference to your daily routine! 
I have no siblings. 

My house however needed no alterations although arrangements had to be made for Erin as my mum needed her bedroom. Also, I was her named next of kin and there was an Enduring Power of Attorney set up so I could take care of everything.
I gave notice at work although my coworkers struggled to understand - one coworker had a mother who was still independent after multiple strokes and, as is inevitable, people do see things through the lens of their own experiences. Even my aunt (my mother's sister) thought she would bounce back like her husband had. He had three strokes that March and by the time my mum had hers he was pottering at home again. That would have been fair enough but their father had suffered a severe stroke...I thought she would understand what we were facing.
One of the more difficult moments was when my dad acknowledged that my mum's stroke was much worse than her dad's. He lived 16 years with what seemed a very poor quality of life. They didn't know he'd suffered further strokes until after he died. Meanwhile, we're fairly sure my mum has already had subsequent strokes...

But I am not cut out to be a carer. Being stuck at home with my own kids drove me demented. I HATED IT. And I had every expectation of them growing up and leaving...I know damn well that there's only one way this can go...and when it's over I have my dad and my stepdad (who came into our lives when I was 29), both of whom have signed Power of Attorney documents putting me in charge. I feel crushed under the weight of responsibility I just don't want.
The stress is chronic. I want to run away, to be free, to live MY life at long last. I feel like I can't BREATHE.

Basically, I'm in mourning. For the life I never had. For the life I never will have. 
My kids' dad was nothing to write home about but there's a blog here somewhere if you really want to know. He was TOTALLY out of our lives when I was 20, before our youngest was born. Zero contact, zero child support. I've been on my own ever since. Now I have to accept being alone forever - even if I met someone (which I can't as I'm stuck at home) my mum wouldn't allow it.
The degree I worked my arse off for won't lead to anything. My CV is decades behind my chronological age. I'll never buy a house, or learn to drive or even just pay for a holiday. Anything I ever have will be inherited, I can't achieve anything for myself - not even a pension now.
No relationships, no friends, no career; not even a bog-standard job. None of those life landmark achievement things.

The best my life has ever been was my mid-life crisis (age 33-38 in my case). It was the point my kids were old enough to do their own thing while I could enjoy the little disposable income I had going to rock gigs, fucking up my hair and getting tattoos.
Dealing with the fact that was it, all the life of my own I'm gonna get, is something I just can't wrap my head around.
What's more is that in that time I lost a load of weight and actually whipped my fat butt into a halfway decent shape. Now I can't get out I'm getting fat again. And I'm drinking a helluva lot.

I don't want my mum to go but I know it's gonna happen, sooner rather than later most likely. I know that what she's going through is worse than what I'm going through but...

• when she's gone her sufferings will be over; I will still have responsibility for my dad (EPoA to be activated) and stepdad (LPoA pending). There isn't an end when the end comes.
• My mum's mum died of stroke, albeit at 95; as I mentioned above her dad died 16 years after a severe stroke. From the day it happened I've been feeling a nasty fear that this is also my personal future...and not one that can be avoided by any means. So who gives a fuck about the diet and alcohol?

I feel like I'm being selfish but I *am* doing the best I can by my mum. I just want there to be something for ME as well, y'know?!