I’m with you…always

image

I kiss both cheeks
Your forehead
Say I love you
Watch your eyes
They now have lost the sparkle
And speak more
Than your voice
The struggles through your life
Do they compare
With your life now?
The father, my father whose
Heart beats in time with mine
I hold back tears
Not allowing 
My sadness to be seen
I worship the man you are
The father you have been
Memories of games played
Laughter, strong arms
Words of advice
Always there, those smiling blue eyes
Gentle, self effacing
Never a harsh word
Always loved and adored
I hold your trembling hand
Listen as you whisper you are
A burden, a dill, useless
Words cannot describe my love, my
Admiration I have for you
You will not see me cry as we
Look into each other’s eyes
This I do alone
I kiss both cheeks
Your forehead
I say I love you

this will explain my sink or swim piece I recently wrote

Observations

My spoon circles the coffee
Breaking cinnamon art
Allowing foam to sit on my tongue
savouring creamy sweet

The melodious French voice
wafts over raisin toast and latte
Speaking fluently, her hands twist
and turn gracefully as she speaks

In days past I knew him
robust, a giant of a man
His height a commanding presence
I called him teddy bear, back then
always cuddly, always smiling
Family friend with softly spoken words

The laminate table shares the bowl
of hot chips, breakfast or is it lunch
no time frame for pensioners
Combinations of the young walk past
Stripes and spots
leopard print with lemon
The beast would cringe

The elderly man comes closer in view
His walker supporting his limping body
frail and thin, head of grey, brown corduroys
Sunken cheeks, no smile
Recognition in the moment, a familiar face
teddy bear feebly steps
Madame pulls out her compact straightens her fringe
Chips are air blown cool between them and
he walks slowly past

Copyright JMTacken 16.7.14

Remembering

It is Thursday the 26th of June. I sit at the home of my parents.

I thought about writing this weeks ago,  not knowing if I should ‘explain my situation’, but I now do,  in the hope that anyone else who reads my ‘blog’ may be helped in some way. Anyone that they may know that might display the symptoms of BPD can then hopefully try and receive the care and attention that they need.

4 weeks ago (almost 5) my youngest daughter (27) had a ‘major meltdown’ and as a consequence, my life spiraled out of control, as did hers. She lived with me and my partner Mr. S and also her boyfriend.

Some of you have emailed and I have explained my situation, or a brief outline.

I write this now, for any parent or family member who has a child/teenager or adult still under their care, or that they may know, who may have been diagnosed with depression, or with bipolar/anxiety, that there maybe another illness that it could possibly be.

One that up to 7 months ago, I had never heard about. It is called – Borderline Personality Disorder, or more commonly BPD.

Borderline can be closely linked with also having depression, bi-polar or anxiety.

My daughter K attends the DBT (Dialectal Behaviour Therapy) Centre in Melbourne. This Clinic specialises in using a Modified Cognitive Behavioural Therapy treatment.

Many therapists won’t take on patients with BPD as it is so complex and frustrating and simply hard work.
Martha Linehan  http://linehaninstitute.org/ introduced this style of therapy and only recently was it then public knowledge, that she herself suffered from BPD.

It is a confusing and frustrating mental illness, the patient suffering from extreme sensitivity to all matters, to the point where emotional outbursts, sometimes will result in violence to others or self harm and or suicide of the patient.

This is her life, my life and that of my family. I was guilty. I did not understand, I did not read up about it, what it entailed, how severe it was. I learnt the hard way.

There are 9 indications that a person has BPD. For those that wish to read a little on what BPD is –

http://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/9670.php

For the past 4 weeks I have not lived in my home, spending the first week with my eldest daughter and now my parents.  My partner had to remove himself from the situation on that terrible night, moving elsewhere, but we are trying to keep our relationship together. I am now in a position where I have to sell my home, as my income is limited. I cannot live with K nor can she live with me.

This illness is described as a ‘relationship killer’. Or the ‘love/hate relationship’. Carers and or family members having to walk on eggshells, for fear of triggering their emotions.

There have been factors/incidences, that I think/feel have manifested in her, resulting in her diagnosis of BPD, which I cannot go into detail about.

She, displayed to the outside world a happy, confident young woman with a great sense of humour. Underlying, however was festering BPD.

I love my daughter with every breath that I breathe, but I cannot live with her any longer. I have so much guilt, as a mother who does not want her to self harm or god forbid even contemplate suicide, because she feels she cannot cope with the ‘normal’ world around her. Thankfully, her therapist has not seen any signs of this.

I have spoken to others on WordPress who are sufferers, I have joined a monthly support group to help me try to connect once more with the daughter that I love. I read and read all that I can, but because her ‘personality’ can jump from one extreme to the next, managing or understanding what she suffers is extremely difficult. It is not like bi-polar where there are extreme highs, then extreme lows. BDP sufferers experience this continually… the virtual see-saw.

From what I have learned or more so witnessed with my daughter, is we can compartmentalize our thoughts/actions at a given time. She/they can not. What we may ‘spread over’ a day or a week, she/they have constantly circling in their minds. Lists are written to try and help her cope daily, lists which she would always read out loud to me, of what she had to do each day, in order to get some ‘peace’ in her mind. I would be constantly contacted by text, if I was out, with K advising me what she was doing next.  Still, even though I knew this wasn’t right for a girl of 27, I did not look into it further.

Jobs were plentiful, as BPD sufferers sabotage jobs they are in, even if they are enjoying it. They have no self worth, also feeling that others should handle their distress.

The family or carers, must ‘cop the tirades’, the abuse, only when it becomes violent must we walk away from the situation, in order to protect ourselves, or them.

It is distressing, it is heartbreaking, but I have been advised and read that it is to an extent curable.  It can take many years to do so however. The patient must learn the skills required, not to be triggered by what others say or do, or events that they experience, to cope with their own instabilities. The recipient must also learn strategies not to evoke, upset and try to understand what they are experiencing.

I am doing what I can, but as a parent I am ashamed to say that I am limited. Selling my home/her home, in order for me to survive, plays heavily on my heart as her mother and my emotions, as BPD’s have a great fear of abandonment (even if they aren’t being abandoned) are understandably erratic right now .

I live with mum and Pop and as many of you know, mum has dementia, so I have taken on the role of full time carer for both of them for the time being. When I move I will also be an hours drive from them, which may not seem much, but I have always been within minutes of them.

But this isn’t about me and how I feel, or what I’ve been going through.  It is about an illness that not many have heard about, or are able to comprehend. To an outsider, the BPD is just acting like a ‘spoilt brat’, seeking attention, wishing to manipulate, but this is not true.

Their process of dealing with emotions of any kind is vastly different to those who don’t suffer this.

For weeks, this has consumed me, to try and do the right thing. She has no where else to live other than my home, which I cannot afford to keep any longer. This is my dilemma, being torn apart, not wanting to lose my partner of 6 years whom I love and knowing what I can do,  that won’t see my youngest baby in the streets. Public housing is pretty much non existent here. Private renting is available, but expensive. Crisis housing not an option, as she and her B/F would have to move from one place to the next every few days and I know she would not be able to take or cope with this, nor do either of them have a steady income.

I am in discussion with her father and I talk constantly with my friends and I can only hope we can reach a solution and soon.

I am now seeing a therapist, as I feel as if I have been drowning, but my daughter K is the one who is drowning the most and I will do whatever I can to ensure that she is cured of this terrible illness and able to live a happy and well adjusted life in the future. That is all any parent wishes. This is what I wish, as she feels that I do not love her or support her in this.

So, in closing, I can only suggest that you seek help from your Medical Practitioner, if you feel that you, or someone you love or know, maybe showing signs of BPD.

Help is out there, it is a long road that I travel, but an even longer road for my darling ‘baby girl’..

PS:  I thank you if you have read. I thank all of you, those that read me regularly and knew nothing of my situation and yet have shown and given support, love and encouragement along these weeks, which to me at this juncture, seem like months.

 

Outside looking in

It robs her
of the woman that she was
and we can only try to
help this new world in which she lives

It clenches her
with a power unforeseen
dragging it with her, along its path
where nothing seems the same

It challenges her
to find a place where she’s content and
those who love her, can comprehend

It leaves her
with unanswered questions
those she’s asked, yet knows not if she has

It punishes her
for growing old, to deal with feeble body
now of mind

It confuses her
a need to fight or not
or is she simply unaware

It damages her
the mother that I knew, where her
imagination plays recycled tricks

As she stares into the distance
forgetting questions that she’s asked
Discontent at routine change
Scared of what once was familiar

Woman once strong
guiding, caring, nurturing, loving
She is still there …somewhere
not knowing that she hides
from the world she knew

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Mum

Mum

copyright JMTacken 14.6.14

 

Sharing with

http://solothefirst.wordpress.com/2014/06/12/writing-prompt-alzheimers-disease/

My Mother’s Day – Chat time

Today – Mother’s Day.

Firstly I am thankful as I said in my last post that my mum is still with me. I have read many posts today about some who had a tough upbringing as a child, some who have lost their mums and those who have sadly lost a child. All of them equally as important as another. I thank you for your comments on my Mother’s Day poem and for the bravery you showed in what you wrote and your generous and kind comments to me.

We went to the venue – a Pub towards the city. Firstly mum and Pop (well mum) wondered why we had to travel so far. This is a lady who is confined to her home now and has a grizzle about not being able to get out. We are talking a 45 minute car trip (not have your passport ready).

She was in a mood, wishing to not be happy, to the point of not liking where we were, or what she ate. To watch your mum as an adult, pout, pull faces like a child is very disconcerting and disheartening. Daughter #1 (the eldest) who arranged the venue went to talk to her throughout the afternoon and got very little feedback or response. She was upset by this, she went and cried in the toilet, swearing she won’t try and organise something again. I don’t blame her. There were other reasons for this decision, but I won’t go into those.

Mum’s moods are getting worse, plain to see and it takes strength from all the family not to get angry with her.

Through the afternoon, eldest daughter said “Perhaps she is thinking about Paul”? Paul is my youngest brother who passed 10 years ago, tragically. Perhaps it was this, that made her mood aggressive, compiled with own everyday thoughts and confusion.

I did not ask her, it wasn’t the time not the place to do so.

She was thrilled by the flowers I brought to her in the morning and the card, but then the world changed when Mr.S and I picked them up. It’s difficult, it’s baffling and it’s sadly to say frustrating.

I am not perfect, I know this. I whinge and whine when perhaps I should hold back, especially on posts. So yes I get angry, I’m human and I feel terrible for doing so, but I can’t help it.

If I could return to the laughter and the reminiscing of events that happened within the family I would. If I could bring back the mum who didn’t care where she was or what her meal was like I would. Sadly I can’t this, this is who she is now. I spoke to a friend who visited them with their mum(after we dropped them back home) a friend of my penguins for many years, who afterwards sent me a text saying ..mum doesn’t even remember what she had for lunch.

She will always be my mother but
no longer the one I had
No longer the mother that I knew
back when I was young
Her life has changed
I compensate, to try and live
in her world now, where there’s
love but sadly also hate
of her life…her situation

I hope all of you Mum’s had a wonderful day. Onward and upward as they say, tomorrow’s a brand new day.
x

Old age (via email) according to my Pop

My darling Pop sent me this email today – thought I would share

Statistics show that at the age of seventy, there are five women to
every man. Isn’t that an ironic time for a guy to get those odds?

Old age is when it takes longer to rest than to get tired.

By the time a man is wise enough to watch his step, he’s too old to
go anywhere.

Old age is when you have stopped growing at both ends, and have
begun to grow in the middle.

Old age is having a choice of two temptations and choosing the
one that will get you home earlier.

A man has reached old age when he is cautioned to slow down by
his Doctor instead of by the police.

Don’t worry about avoiding temptation. As you grow older, it will
avoid you.

You’re getting old when “getting lucky” means you find your car in
the parking lot.

Update on the Penguins (Not the winged kind)

This afternoon I took mum for the results on the MRI she had on Monday.

Not dementia as we all thought, but rather that she has had two rather large strokes and has had several smaller ones – this is what is affecting her memory.

No one – not her or the family knew about when these may have happened, but as the Specialist said they are at times silent, not affecting any speech, body movement or restrictions.

Tomorrow morning I get two new lots of medication for her in order to keep her at this level (if they work) otherwise she will eventually develop Alzheimer’s.

When I got her back home and explained to Pop what had happened she started crying, so darling Pop shuffled up to her, put his arms around her and said “Come on Kid, we’ll be fine”, kissing her on the forehead – my heart went out to her, she looked like a frightened little girl. My heart went out to Pop too, growing old sucks, you suffer, one way or the other, yes it’s part of life and we will all have to face  the age process and possibly medical issues – but it just sucks.

Now we go back in two months to see how she is and what needs to be done, if anything..

This is an update only for those that are kindly following their journey, no need to post a comment.

x

Update on my Penguins (quite a lengthy piece – Part 1)

The last few poems I have written about have concerned my family.

My family, especially my parents have become part of your live’s in a distant way. The ups, the downs and in-betweens of their life, have to you, my readers in a small way become yours.

As you know Pop (my dad) is quite feeble. Somedays, thankfully, he can pull himself up off his chair, or walk to the front door unaided, but usually with the help of a walker. He has the new seat on the toilet that is like a chair, so that he does not call out to mum for aid to get up. He has the hospital pull-up post on his bed, so that he may get in and out of bed more easily and he has the rails and seat in the shower.

A recliner chair that also tilts forward helps him plant his feet on the ground and be in an almost standing position for him to get up.  A chair with arms, so that he can pull himself up after eating.

I didn’t think these days would come, not when I was young, not when I saw him play shuttle-cock with us, not when I saw him public speaking with a strong, confidant voice, not when I saw him dance with mum across the floor.

How our lives change ~ now I watch him struggle, his voice on days grow weak. Thankfully there are good days, where he jokes and laughs and says that he’s doing okay.

Mum as you know is slipping slowly. We took her to the Specialist last week (a Geriatrician) to be assessed for Dementia. My brother P and I walked in with her and sat down. It was a battle to get her there, the phone call I received the night before and the morning of was “I’m not going to see him – I don’t need to – you aren’t my doctor, they just want to get more money out of us”. One of those phone calls she got angry and hung up on me.

“Now why are you here” he asked warmly.
“Because they said I have to come”.
I told him – “This won’t be easy”. Mum was almost child-like in her responses.
When he asked “What is your birthday and how was your child-hood”.
She replied with the correct date, but then “What on earth do you want to know that for!”
Her stubborn pants were on.
My brother and I were asked to leave the room and fill out 2 pages of certain behavioural aspects now, compared to 10 years ago.
After we had finished we went back in and we had to say in front of mum, why we believe she should be there…. that was tough and the Doctor said to mum “Now don’t get angry with them, but I have to ask a few questions”.
We explained as tactfully as we could, our reasons.
He then ordered an MRI and to make a further appointment, once this had been done.
All the way home mum in the back seat kept saying “I don’t need this MRI – nothing is wrong with me”.
Yesterday I went round and asked her if I could tidy one of her grocery cupboards (pantry) she said “Yes, but I must see what you want to throw away”.
I agreed.
Pops said he has been trying to get her to tidy/sort it out for years.
“Mum the use by date on this is 2004 – can I throw?”
“What is it?”
“Mum it’s 2004”.
Much thought and pulling of faces.
“Ok I guess so…”
This went on for over an hour. Me asking, her refuting the dates and that they were still fit for human consumption.

Empty jars, herb/spice bottles, plastic containers…. “No I want to keep them”
It went on and on, she was getting angrier, all of these meant something to her..something she could hold on to..like her past.

We got through it without her grabbing Pops walking stick and threatening me with it, as she did the other week. This gentle, kind and warm woman – slowly becoming a different person… a different mum.

Times are a changing – the road won’t be concreted nor smooth, but a rocky path, we now wait till the MRI appointment.

If you got through all of this – thank you for reading.

 

Time for My Weekend That Was. (Pull up a chair)

What a few days it has been, I have been absent all weekend until now.
Pop wasn’t well on Thursday, I won’t go into the details…but put it this way – he needs a proper diet and to move around more than he is doing at present. He also fell out of bed 😦 2nd fall in 9 days. I spent Friday with them, giving him juices to drink and trying to get him better for the Saturday (yesterday) and his youngest Grandson’s Wedding.

Friday night we had plans in place, they were booked for the hairdressers (early 7.30am) god awful hour to be up, but they are early risers. We, Mr. S and I were to pick them up at 2.45 Saturday to drive them to the Wedding.

Later that night it all turned sour, we cancelled the taxi for the hairdressers. I tucked Pop into bed, putting a hot water bottle on his tummy, putting a wheat pack on his back to help his discomfort. I told him I would trim his hair if he was able to go and also blow wave mums (last minute strategies in place). I sat down along side him on the bed and he said “what would I do without you, but I am so over living like this”. I told him, he isn’t going anywhere yet and to work to gain his strength back.

Saturday morning and the phone call came saying he’s not any better and they couldn’t go 😦

Mr. S and I drove up to the Winery, a little windy but the sun was shining. My nephew Shaun standing nervously in the gazebo waiting for his bride to appear. The bridesmaids walked down and then Emma his gorgeous bride. I watched my young nephew, put his hand to his chest and mouth WOW. Yes, I started with the tears then. She looked stunning (as all brides do). They exchanged vows, they placed the rings, their photos were taken. We were asked for the family shot, with heals sinking into the lawn we smiled and tried to balance.

We then went stood on the decking overlooking the beautiful Winery and had canapes and champers. I could go on and on about the night how perfect everything was, but I would possible bore you all to tears even further.

I phoned mum and Pop throughout the night to see how they were.

The next door neighbour answered the phone, then got mum, who then couldn’t explain and put Pop on the phone…. he had another fall in the shower. She tried to lift him up but couldn’t. The neighbours couldn’t as they have bad backs, so they called the SES…. now for those who don’t know the SES this stands for State Emergency Services… they help out in storms etc removing fallen trees and the like. I DO NOT KNOW why they called them and not the Ambulance.

Poor Pop was then lifted out of the shower with some device onto a stretcher, they then called the Ambo’s and back he went to the Hospital. They did the battery of tests as last time and nothing showing as to why he fell. I was in tears outside at the venue, as I spoke to him, friends and daughters came to my aid. They were wonderful.

Today I went over there at 7.45am…got to sleep at 1am…. I am so tired right now. He has no injuries apart from his pride a little from being ‘hoisted like a tree trunk’ as he put it from the shower stark naked.

So there was so much happiness mixed with sadness yesterday. We (my brother and I ) have instigated talks about more care being required … tis a good thing.

2 other things upset me yesterday – I have a beautiful marquee set gold diamond ring, I had it enlarged a few weeks ago to fit another finger and wore it out once 2 weeks ago. I went to put it on yesterday and…no diamond. I cried, I bought this for myself as a 40th birthday present. I don’t know if it’s possible that the jeweller did something to the claws that held the diamond, but I am visiting him tomorrow to ask.

The other thing… both my girls looked amazing at the Wedding and mum didn’t take a photo 😦 Hopefully when we get a copy of the group shot I shall be able to put up. So disappointed, but I guess it’s not like they aren’t going to ever ‘dress-up’ ever again.

Mumsy
xx

Breath (Prose)

images-9

whilst we waste our
b
r
e
a
t
h
the meal ordered took too long
someone takes their
l
a
s
t
cut down ~ bloodied holes that pierced
the skin or sliced with steel paper thin
he refused to carry weapons
his crime? wrong place ~ wrong time

on a cold and stony road she
lies gasping for her final breath
hit by one who drank ~ who swore he
didn’t see her car, she wore no safety belt

alone in an empty lane ~ forgotten old
feeble, slouched on cold brick walls
his organs failing from abuse
his begging plea no longer heard

he’s old he hears them whisper
~ had a good innings, he hears them say
as he lies on starch white sheets
his maker to carry him away

and someone is breathing their
f
i
r
s
t
on crackly sheets, fluorescent lights
mother breathing ~ child’s head crowned
silent moments, body held, gasp of air
cries of joy, as her baby enters the world

the trip to hospital so far away
traffic bad, anxious, panting, blowing air
can’t wait, it’s now, it’s coming now
the car not quite a manger but ~ matters how?

toiling hard under summer sun
no doctors on this round
she squats and helps deliver
her new son upon the ground

by an empty lane alone she grabs
her tummy, pain is real, she’s scared
she’s young, as water pools around her feet
crouches screaming till her baby breathes

so with every breath you take
try not to use it too complain
for breath AS LIFE ~ A PRECIOUS thing
a commodity we shouldn’t waste

©jmtacken October 3 2013