Thunderstorm Funk

My brain is a cavernous place sometimes that I don’t encourage the average person to try to explore. It’s messy in there. It’s filled with the odd booby trap or twelve. And I’m pretty sure there’s a slightly manic seven year old with some killer baking skills who might feed you till you explode. I’m rambling. I’m going somewhere with this I promise.

So today was mommy detail. That normally means an appointment that isn’t what she thought it would be followed by shopping that wasn’t discussed earlier but that I work into my schedule anyway and at least one stupid argument because I’m being rational and mom is being well mom. In that regard today was quite like most mommy detail days. The difference would be that I ended up in my car crying while waiting on her because I was frustrated with myself and the situation.

You have no reason to know this but I’ve been taking care of my mother, well most of my life actually since she and my father split, but in this iteration over a decade. She’s still a relatively young woman but because of illness, her own anxieties and insecurities it feels like I’m raising a temperamental seven to thirteen year old depending on the day. Other days she’s totally an adult and we have great conversations and crack up about life in general. I love those days a lot. Today like the majority of this week has not been one of those days. And it made me sad and frustrated and cry.

I won’t get into all of the particulars but for a decade my life has been a series of adjustments and sacrifices surrounding what I need to do with her. If she was my child I would totally get that and take it as part of the job I signed up for but I so would not have volunteered for this gig. And if I’m honest I didn’t volunteer when the situation presented itself. My brother lived in state, had room for her and begged her to come stay with him and his wife. She turned them down and insisted she could live with me and would promise to leave me alone after I got married so I could have a break and my husband and I could settle in to life together. The fact that that makes no sense to me doesn’t matter. What good is a few years alone and hitting our routine if she’s just coming back. Plus if he can’t deal with her upfront then we have a problem because she really can’t go anywhere else. I know I’ve mentioned some of that before but it just hit me again today that THIS was my life and short of a few vacations that I almost always feel guilty for taking there is no time for me to relax and enjoy and hell just have loud messy orgasms when she’s home. Again if there were kids involved I get it but no one in this house is under the age of 30 lol.

I am trying to do a better job of managing all of that but it’s still hard to juggle. Some of it I’m sure came from talking with a fellow submissive who bit the proverbial bullet and moved across the country to be with her Dom leaving parents behind. I am seriously happy for her I am but it reminded me that for at least the most immediate future this isn’t a possibility for me. I slept on that and was good until I was standing in the store arguing about summer robes and why no one had them cause she needed a robe for the random moments it was night time and someone else in the house might see her while she was visiting my brother. I called a friend who told me that I really had to start doing more but it’s hard to do more for me even when logically I know she can take care of some of this on her own. The stuff that she can’t take care of makes me nervous. In ten years I’ve seen her memory impairment get worse. And she’s had some mood swings that would be depression in anyone else but she refuses to address them as such. She doesn’t engender caretaker vibes in my brother or I. At this point, years of unfiltered mommy moments has bruised all that affection. But something there still makes me feel like I have to take care of the things that she can’t.

Understanding of the situation has not made it much better. Working out, committing to my job, enjoying life when I can has not made it all better. What I want doesn’t mesh with the life I’m living and am momentarily obligated to continue. I am feeling more centered now. And a good cry never hurt anyone. It’s just not how I normally like to enjoy the rain. That’s for another time and post though.

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