Obviously I've blogged about this before and, presumably, will do so again - so I'll put the next bit in blue so if you're familiar with the background story you can just skip ahead.
On Monday 16th April 2018 my mum (then 73) had a severe stroke. To us it was blatantly obvious, to trained medical 'professionals' it was a mystery; while she was in A&E they seemed to think she was there with a stomach bug of all things! A consultant in Acute Care the next day said it definitely wasn't a stroke...5 hours later they confirmed it was - as we recently discovered, the NHS can't even record a stroke as affecting both hemispheres of the brain cos their software just won't accept that as being a thing. The usual FAST symptoms don't apply, or at least not so clearly: no facial drooping, no one-sided weakness - because EVERYTHING is affected. My mum was in hospital for nine-and-a-half weeks; this blog marks one year since I brought her home.
There was never a question that my mum would come here after her stroke, it wasn't a 'decision', it wasn't 'considered', it was just how it was going to be. We got the call at 8pm and I stayed with mum until she was admitted to Acute Care a little after 4am. I walked the four miles home, mooching, catching Pokemon, trying to wrap my head around what we'd been through that night... getting in about half past six. Collapsed into bed and got up at 8am when my dad rang for a status update.
At that point we felt certain it was a stroke, but there was still a chance that the 'experts' knew what they were talking about and that whilst she seemed desperately unwell it might pass with little-to-no long-term consequences. It just never really crossed my mind that a day or two (even a week or two) in hospital and she'd be fine. Instinct said this was it: major life changing event.
HOWEVER, even at that point I was planning for my mum to come stay with me. Even if our hunch came down to nothing more than paranoia whatever the problem was she was bound to be weak and in need of some looking after. I had already started looking around the house thinking how best to tidy / rearrange furniture in order to make things more comfortable for her.
I did not however think about the long term. Partly cos I feared we didn't have one, partly cos my grandad lived to 91 after his big stroke SIXTEEN YEARS EARLIER. If my mum's future runs to those lines I'll be looking after her until I'm what 55?! And then where will I be? No savings, no pension, precious little chance of a job...
I was relieved she survived the first year past the stroke but as we then closed in on the anniversary of her homecoming (21st June) the weight of the future really started bearing down on me. A couple of weeks ago I hit a really low patch.
Y'all can think I'm selfish - I don't care. I had a miserable childhood; my parents were not nurturing / affectionate / supportive / whatever. I was bullied at school and my parents didn't want to know. I wonder if my grandad's stroke, when I was 6, may have been a significant factor in my parents' disintrest in all things Heggie-related. At 16 they forced me into an abortion. At 17 I was a single mother and still desperate to get as far away from them as I could manage - I laughed at people who said things like "you'll really need your mum now" like that was even a thing. I got as far as Somerset...where they bought a house for me to rent, ensuring I'd never escape their influence. Twenty-odd years later and my youngest has reached adulthood...and I moved back home-adjacent cos I was out of options after decades on welfare and minimum wage jobs while I raised my kids and earned my degree.
I might've had to come home but my kids were grown, I had my BA - SURELY this was my time??? I had hopes and dreams - I wanted a social life, to meet people, to pursue my interests, to travel. And here I am stuck at home again, drudging. I have no income.
I have been single since my kids' dad walked out...in 1998. And I mean SINGLE. No dates, no friends with benefits, NOTHING. Now I'll never meet anyone, let alone anything more. I kinda suspected after all these years alone that'd be how it went but foolishly I'd still hoped.
I'm grieving hard for the life I wanted, the life I'll now never have.
Cos even as and when my mum's gone I'm still responsible for my dad (who is an almighty asshat) and my 'stepdad' (who is less of an asshat but only came into my life in my late 20s). AND I DON'T WANNA!
Firstly, cos I have no inclination to 'caring' - being stuck at home with my kids was hell enough. I am agender and all this caring, cleaning, domestic drudgery shit is entirely too much of a feminine cliche for me to want to touch it with a barge pole.
Secondly, because I describe my familial feelings as Stockholm Syndrome-esque. It's about enforced proximity and bonding through trauma.
But mostly because I want to have MY life. Shit childhood, shit adulthood and everything has been about other people; my parents, grandparents, my kids...no one has ever put me first so why the hell shouldn't I? I just need the dratted opportunity!
I did not have a good relationship with either of my parents before this and the current situation has only made it worse cos we can't escape each other. I wish I was the sort of person who could dump annoying elderly relatives at the gates of a care home and walk away without a qualm. It would be so much easier.
I can't tell you how much I just want to ditch everything and GO...not that have anywhere to go, you understand. Or the resources to get there. To be honest though, just being able to leave the house would be something. Mum doesn't want to go out, she doesn't want people here. I am so bored.
This article (https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/newsbeat-48458760) is about new mums struggling with changes to their bodies after childbirth and linking it with more profound loss of identity - "I think it's really important in that transition between young woman to mother that people are actually allowed to grieve the loss of their old identity." Well, that's what I've been doing - grieving for the person I was finally becoming.
My midlife crisis was FABULOUS. So many hair colours, gigs, tattoos, piercings...getting out, meeting people (bless the Lost Hearts!), working on the self-confidence I hadn't lost...I'd never had any!
In the last couple of days I've had a glimmer of hope...The Broken Kings (the band 3/5 of my beloved Fearless Vampire Killers have since become) have announced their 1st ever live performance - supporting former LostAlone front man Steven Battelle. With the help of my younger beastie I AM GOING!!! Also the combined blessings that it's somewhere I can get to and from fairly easily from here (and won't cost the earth to do so), and the fact it's almost 2 weeks before her new semester begins. My adults can look after her (she also agreed to it, I hasten to add) for one evening so I can have a very special break.
So that's where I'm at. Glad my mum's doing okay, but generally fucking miserable because I'm not.
I did not however think about the long term. Partly cos I feared we didn't have one, partly cos my grandad lived to 91 after his big stroke SIXTEEN YEARS EARLIER. If my mum's future runs to those lines I'll be looking after her until I'm what 55?! And then where will I be? No savings, no pension, precious little chance of a job...
I was relieved she survived the first year past the stroke but as we then closed in on the anniversary of her homecoming (21st June) the weight of the future really started bearing down on me. A couple of weeks ago I hit a really low patch.
Y'all can think I'm selfish - I don't care. I had a miserable childhood; my parents were not nurturing / affectionate / supportive / whatever. I was bullied at school and my parents didn't want to know. I wonder if my grandad's stroke, when I was 6, may have been a significant factor in my parents' disintrest in all things Heggie-related. At 16 they forced me into an abortion. At 17 I was a single mother and still desperate to get as far away from them as I could manage - I laughed at people who said things like "you'll really need your mum now" like that was even a thing. I got as far as Somerset...where they bought a house for me to rent, ensuring I'd never escape their influence. Twenty-odd years later and my youngest has reached adulthood...and I moved back home-adjacent cos I was out of options after decades on welfare and minimum wage jobs while I raised my kids and earned my degree.
I might've had to come home but my kids were grown, I had my BA - SURELY this was my time??? I had hopes and dreams - I wanted a social life, to meet people, to pursue my interests, to travel. And here I am stuck at home again, drudging. I have no income.
I have been single since my kids' dad walked out...in 1998. And I mean SINGLE. No dates, no friends with benefits, NOTHING. Now I'll never meet anyone, let alone anything more. I kinda suspected after all these years alone that'd be how it went but foolishly I'd still hoped.
I'm grieving hard for the life I wanted, the life I'll now never have.
Cos even as and when my mum's gone I'm still responsible for my dad (who is an almighty asshat) and my 'stepdad' (who is less of an asshat but only came into my life in my late 20s). AND I DON'T WANNA!
Firstly, cos I have no inclination to 'caring' - being stuck at home with my kids was hell enough. I am agender and all this caring, cleaning, domestic drudgery shit is entirely too much of a feminine cliche for me to want to touch it with a barge pole.
Secondly, because I describe my familial feelings as Stockholm Syndrome-esque. It's about enforced proximity and bonding through trauma.
But mostly because I want to have MY life. Shit childhood, shit adulthood and everything has been about other people; my parents, grandparents, my kids...no one has ever put me first so why the hell shouldn't I? I just need the dratted opportunity!
I did not have a good relationship with either of my parents before this and the current situation has only made it worse cos we can't escape each other. I wish I was the sort of person who could dump annoying elderly relatives at the gates of a care home and walk away without a qualm. It would be so much easier.
I can't tell you how much I just want to ditch everything and GO...not that have anywhere to go, you understand. Or the resources to get there. To be honest though, just being able to leave the house would be something. Mum doesn't want to go out, she doesn't want people here. I am so bored.
This article (https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/newsbeat-48458760) is about new mums struggling with changes to their bodies after childbirth and linking it with more profound loss of identity - "I think it's really important in that transition between young woman to mother that people are actually allowed to grieve the loss of their old identity." Well, that's what I've been doing - grieving for the person I was finally becoming.
My midlife crisis was FABULOUS. So many hair colours, gigs, tattoos, piercings...getting out, meeting people (bless the Lost Hearts!), working on the self-confidence I hadn't lost...I'd never had any!
In the last couple of days I've had a glimmer of hope...The Broken Kings (the band 3/5 of my beloved Fearless Vampire Killers have since become) have announced their 1st ever live performance - supporting former LostAlone front man Steven Battelle. With the help of my younger beastie I AM GOING!!! Also the combined blessings that it's somewhere I can get to and from fairly easily from here (and won't cost the earth to do so), and the fact it's almost 2 weeks before her new semester begins. My adults can look after her (she also agreed to it, I hasten to add) for one evening so I can have a very special break.
So that's where I'm at. Glad my mum's doing okay, but generally fucking miserable because I'm not.
