The Bad Blogger

I had no idea how long it had been since I last posted on here and I am quite disappointed with myself...

The first is excuse is that I went on holiday. The second is that when I returned from holiday I was overwhelmed with work. The third and final excuse is the realisation that my Mum's dementia has sadly gotten worse since I moved away.

The resulting worry and stress of that realisation has really gotten to me over the last few weeks. Its affected my motivation, mood and even my running. I cannot help but feel desperately sad about her condition and the strain on my Dad who is now caring for her. When I dwell on this I can't help but feel bitter because it is not fair that this happening to her. She doesn't deserve it after all she has done.

With the stress has come regret; I regret not living my life better. I am working hard to go far in my career, yet I am nowhere near a success yet. I live in a house share in a house that quite frankly can be pretty rank at times. However, it was my choice to live as cheap as possible because I don't earn a lot. I am disappointed in myself. As hard as try to get somewhere, I seem to get further and further behind. I frequently stop and look at what I have achieved at the age of 28 and come to the conclusion that its not an awful lot.

I want to help my parents. As I am their only child still in England (my two older brothers live in other countries) I keep feeling responsible. I want to be able to provide financial support but I can't and I hate myself for it. All I can do is listen when my Dad needs to vent or help out with chores whenever I am home. I don't believe it is enough though. It breaks my heart that I am incredibly useless in this situation.

I remember a couple of years ago when my Dad and I started noticing that my Mum's behaviour wasn't right. I remember talking to one of my brothers about how she didn't want to do anything and that she was forgetting things. He said something along the lines of, "Our brain's get lazy if we don't stimulate them enough as we get older. Perhaps if she had grandchildren around, she'd have them to keep her busy." It wasn't a dig at me but sometimes I wonder if I had had kids, would she have been different? Deep down I know she wouldn't have been. Once dementia starts, it doesn't go away. It gradually and then rather suddenly, gets worse. It just makes me sad that I never provided her with grandchildren before the illness really kicked in. For maybe just a year or so she could have enjoyed being a Grandma. But instead I was messing about, wasting my time and amounting to nothing.

Hindsight is not a wonderful thing. It is a constant reminder of how much I have messed up and let my parents down over the years. I should be so much more for them and I'm not.

F x