Mom's Major Meltdown

Journal entry dated September 2, 2012

Today is Brother C's birthday.  Mom insisted on having a party for him, so she invited the family over for a steak dinner.  I was tired the night before and didn't get a chance to bake Brother C's cake, so I had to do it after I got home from church.  Mom had barged in on me in my bedroom (we locked the bedroom door every night after that!), demanding that I take her to Grandma's church.  She had told Grandma she was going to church with her this morning and got upset that Grandma left without her.  She INSISTED she had to attend her Mass, but I told her it was okay if she didn't make it, especially with how late she'd be.  I offered her several solutions, but Mom was hysterical, so Husband G offered to take her while I got up to get ready for our church.  

I suggested to Mom before she left to not wear her high heels, but she insisted.  She had taken them off before she even got home.  I had left out the flats that I suggested she wear, but she ignored me.  By the time she got home, she was in full compliance of wearing the shoes I tried to give her before she left.  But why listen to me?  I don't know what I'm talking about!  She's acting like a spoiled teenager!

Mom was very dizzy, weak, and confused when we got to church.  I had to help her in and out of the car, up the stairs, get in and out of the pew, etc.  When we got home, she was taking too long to change her clothes so I went to check on her.  Company would be arriving later today and we hadn't even started dinner.  She had changed into her floppy aqua hat, aqua blouse, and white shorts, and was attempting to put on aqua eye shadow (she's been on an aqua and orange kick lately).  What a mess!  "Here, I can't do this right, will you finish it?" she asked, handing me her compact.  I fixed it as best as I could--it was way too dark.  I should've started over but we didn't have time--she'll just have to look like a lady of the evening.  She also had to wear lots of jewelry--how was she going to get dinner prepared with all those necklaces and bracelets getting in the way?

Grandma was stressing over getting the potatoes made.  Stressing and worrying are what Grandma does best (that must be where Mom gets it)!  Mom snapped at her more than once, causing Grandma to become even more upset.  I still had to get the cake in the oven and no one had remembered to take the steaks out before we left for church.  I was busy chopping vegetables for the tossed salad, being sure to set the tomatoes aside, as Brother C. was allergic to them.

It was chaos, to say the least!  Mom was running from one project to the next, without completing any of them.  On top of that, she was trying to paint her fingernails!  How on earth was she going to prepare dinner if she had wet fingernail polish on her hands???  She got up to start another task, so I hid the nail polish instead of arguing with her--I felt like *I* was the crazy one with how she was bouncing around the kitchen!  She would ask a question, we'd answer it, and within minutes, she'd forget and ask the same question, then want to argue about us already answering it!  I was losing my mind and on the verge of tears!  It was like I was running behind her with a small bucket, attempting to put out all these little fires in her wake.  

She sat back down at the table again, looking for the fingernail polish.  "You don't have time to paint your fingernails, Mom, there's too much to do to get ready."  

"Don't tell me what to do!  You are not my mother!" she barked.  I was slack-jawed at the tone of her voice.  Uncle S. stated, "She looks like she's slipped a few gears since the last time I saw her.  She's a lot worse."  I nodded in agreement.  

"Why isn't dinner ready?"  "Where's Brother C?"  "Why aren't the steaks thawed?" "Where's all the ice?"  Mom was running around like a chicken with her head cut off.  I thought I was going to lose it before everyone arrived (Uncle S was really early).  When Sister M. arrived, I brought her into our bedroom for a quick conversation about how Mom was acting--the chaos and utter craziness!  I apologized for not understanding how bad it was, yet I was glad to be there to relieve her of the sole burden of caring for Mom.  I broke down in tears and she hugged me.  I was sorry I didn't give her more credit, and felt better for being able to hash things out before facing the family.  She had confided in me some issues she was having with her husband J., telling me of his pain pill addiction and how he stole Dad's pain pills while Dad was dying.  I was shocked!  "Yeah, he's been in rehab twice.  I told him 'three strikes and he's out,' so he better straighten himself up!  So now you can see why I couldn't really deal with Mom on top of what I'm dealing with at home!"  I had no idea!

Back to the dinner chaos, Mom snapped at Grandma again about the au gratin potatoes not being ready, yet had an I-don't-give-a-rip attitude about the rest of the dinner preparations.  She was getting mad about the steaks not being on the grill yet, and was still ranting about not being able to find her nail polish.  

After dinner, and after things settled a bit, I excused myself to walk the dogs.  As I returned to the house, Sister M's son N came outside and asked if I knew how to pick a lock--Mee Maw had locked herself in her bedroom and wouldn't answer the door!  What???  I rushed inside and unleashed the dogs, then headed down the hallway.

By the time I got to her room, Sister M had found the key and picked the lock.  She was standing next to Mom who was lying on her loveseat, chewing her out, saying something about "safety."  "Don't you ever do this again!  Next time we'll have to break down the door!"  Sister M. reprimanded.  

I knelt down next to Mom and immediately saw she was upset, on the verge of tears.  "Mom, what's wrong?"

Sister M. hissed, "She locked herself in here and wouldn't answer the door!"

I turned back to Mom and spoke soothingly while stroking her hand, and Sister M. took it as her cue to leave.  Apparently the stress of the day had gotten to her, and she "had to get away and get some rest."  Empathetic, I soothed her and calmed her down.

"She's always being mean to me," she spoke of Sister M, "and treats me like a baby!  I can't take it anymore!"  Tears welled in her eyes, and my throat tightened as I choked back my own tears.  My heart broke for Mom.  Yes, Sister M. could be a B, she knew it.  All of us siblings knew it!  She is definitely not one to have or show sympathy for anyone and chewed Mom out for "being so stupid"  (I had gotten a similar chewing out by Sister M. when I refused to put my baby up for adoption in 1991). I simply wanted to hear Mom out, find out what was bothering her, and try to make her feel better.

Mom poured her heart out to me--I felt privileged and honored that she could trust me enough to tell me everything that was bothering her, from how Sister M. took away her car keys after her accident to how her children decided--without her input--that she needed a full time, live-in caregiver (Sister M. said she kept Mom abreast of our discussions, although Mom was "down" at the time and couldn't really make any decisions on her own.  I don't know if she was given a chance to voice her opinion, and I'm embarrassed to say I didn't call her to find out for myself.).  I lovingly explained to her that we were all just scared for her--we just wanted to keep her safe and to protect her.  "Well, Sister M sure has a funny way of showing it!" she cried.  "Mom, your safety is our number one priority--Sister M means well, even if she can't show it in a loving manner.  I'm sorry."   

Mom cried and shared a lot over the next 15 minutes or so.  Sister M. really upsets her.  I prayed over Mom for several minutes, and prayed over Sister M., that she would learn patience, empathy, compassion, and kindness for our mother.  And for others as well.  

Mom began to feel better, then had to show me all the new "stuff" she bought when she and Grandma went shopping the other day.  Oh great--just what she needs--more clothes!  She already has an entire walk-in closet full of clothes she doesn't wear, plus the two closets in the guest bedrooms are full of her clothes, most don't fit and many still have tags on them!  Sister M. confided that on many occasions, she had found the receipts and returned all the clothes and Mom was none the wiser.  I guess that was a good way to "pick our battles" so that we wouldn't have to argue with Mom in the store.  It worked like a charm and I did it many times thereafter!

Eventually, Mom felt better and wanted to re-join the party.  A good 45 minutes had lapsed, and everyone had cleaned the kitchen and cut the cake.  The birthday boy had already left and others followed.  Mom was much calmer the rest of the evening.  She was so worn out that she fell asleep on the couch, and I was never so happy to hug my pillow when I laid down to go to sleep.  I was exhausted!

I learned several important lessons that day:  Mom's bipolar disorder requires lots of structure and patience.  I can't lose my cool when dealing with her, because her emotions only ratchet up several notches as she resists any and all instruction or advice.  A soft voice goes a long way in calming her down, and she can't handle too much chaos at a time.  If she needs to escape a high-sensory environment, she should be allowed to and not be shamed for it, nor have to explain herself.  A simple, "I need some alone time" should suffice in the future.  Most importantly, based on our personalities, I believe I am the best fit as a caregiver among all the siblings.  I feel I have the most patience, sympathy, and compassion to handle Mom's ups and downs.

Sometimes being a Quiet Caregiver has its advantages.