My stepmother divorced my father as soon as she suspected he had the beginnings of dementia. She abandoned him everyday to spend the days with her proper family leaving him alone so that his condition accelerated. She divorced him to make sure she had half of his savings from the business he sold, his business, the business he started with my mother when I was 2. She divorced him to have half the house he struggled to buy but bought on his own before they met. She divorced him at this point because she was no more than a greedy gold digger, she literally dug around in the attic looking for gold sovereigns she thought he had hidden up there. She was wicked & selfish & greedy…..
I’ve just had a phone call from my brother preparing me that my Dad may not make it to the end of the week, he has dementia & has had for about 7 years, this weekend he’s stopped swallowing & breathing properly. All my husband has to say was to ask me how many days I was going to be away for the funeral & can I not take the car. He says he can’t be around my family so can’t give me the support I need.
I understand but sometimes the logical unemotional attitude is harsh…..callous.
Being married to a person with Aspergers you realise after a few months that all the initial passion you thought they were displaying towards you, the emotions and displays of affection, are all actually just them acting, copying an emotion from others that they think they should display. It’s false. They love you yes, they have passion but generally it’s for something else, something much more interesting than you.
You have to accept that emotions are a mine field for them, that excitement can spiral into a hyper state that they cannot regulate and get out of quickly, that mood has liabilities, consequences that are not positives.
You have to regulate your emotions, not be too excited, too passionate, too depressed. You have to be level, consistent, considerate, constantly aware of how you’re emoting.
It’s hard, especially if you were a vivacious, people pleasing person. I have changed a lot in the past 18 years, I have grown up, thought about how I portray myself, how I project. I miss passion, I miss excitement but I’ve traded it for someone I know will always be at my side & will be loyal.
I’m starved of you, devoid of you, left cold and numb and I miss you.
Not touch, no stroke can evoke you, you’ve gone. Are you hiding? Tucked yourself away deep inside, waiting? Scared of showing up, scared of light.
I miss you, I miss the excitement, I miss the surrender, I miss the longing, the sparks the waves.
Will I ever see you again? Not where I am, you don’t come here. Here it’s cold, flat, safe.
You visit in dreams, different scenarios, different people. Your hot breathe against my neck, lips searching, your arms pulling me to dark corners, reaching inside me, awaking.
I am alive, I am radiating, I am moaning and weak and tingling with pleasure, desires. You’re here.
But when I wake I feel you fading, leaving nothing but grief and another hole to bury you in, to cover and forget you were there.
I miss you…
Im smooth, my being worn down by the constant ebb & flow of the seas of change.
I’m smooth, rolled about the seabed by the current of emotional turmoil
I’m not well today, so he’s tried to look out for himself. I’ve been anxious all afternoon, feeling like I’m being strangled, a touch of PTSD, brought about by low blood pressure & hormones.
He wanted to go out & get some fuel for our fire, now the place where we get our fuel is run by very odd & ignorant people & the last time he went there the woman behind the counter was reading a paper in the counter, looked up at him, made a face & looked back down at the paper & the guy who loads ignored him too. My husband had to make a comment before she looked up & asked what he wanted, once he paid there was some kind of tension & he ended up throwing the bags of fuel into the car himself & then they were mockingly waving goodbye at him as he left. He was livid Getty my home. So there’s history there, I don’t know why they don’t like him but they just don’t. So today he has to go there because I’m too dizzy. They must’ve seen him coming because he says they both stood behind the counter staring at him as he walks in, he ask for the fuel, he pushes the card reader at him, she stands there staring through him. He’s waiting for a receipt when someone comes in behind him & the woman goes all over the top in welcoming the next customer. He loads the car & comes home livid. I’m upstairs hoovering, a job I wanted to do earlier but couldn’t & one he said he would do later, so I’m doing it now to save him later. He comes in in a mess, ‘why do they treat him like crap?’ Why are they so ignorant, they were standing there as if they wanted a fight, all combative’ ‘why are they so horrible to him?’ This instantly triggers adrenaline in him, triggers his fight or flight. He’s not a fighter so he just wants to get out of there as fast as possible. I said its probably they remember last time, that they’re just bored & mean. I ask him what happened, he explains, but I continue hoovering, I do not know what to do, he wont listen to me when he’s in this state. He then comes upstairs screaming at me that I’m not helping him, that he’s been trying to help me all afternoon & that’s why he went & now look at the state of him. Why do I think hoovering is more important’? Tells me to fuck off, that he didn’t ask me to be his carer but just to give him support, that he hates this place, hates the people, hates being here, he kicks the kitchen bin, kicks the hoover & flees to his room. I go up to see if he’s ok, he tells me to just get out of his way, that he has gone again…
it’s my fault for letting him go, I told him we could manage that night but he wanted to make sure we were warm because he can’t function if he’s cold. So he went, I should’ve gone. He’s blaming me, tells me of all the things I shouldve done, how I should’ve stopped hoovering as soon as I seen he was in a state, how he would’ve stopped straight away for me, how I could’ve stopped him from spiralling even more, I couldn’t. I did stop hoovering but I also know there’s nothing I can do once he’s been triggered except wait for the anger to be directed my way. Should’ve, would’ve, could’ve..
Today I had to drive him on a journey of 56 miles there & back.
We were doing great, we were chatting away but the conversation turned to someone he didn’t like & a situation he didn’t want to or didn’t have the patience to talk to. I was driving ok but then I got too close for him to a car in front, now close for you and me is on the bumper, close for him is approximately 8 metres! Now I know he doesn’t like me driving too close to cars so I had thought I had been keeping my distance but he thought I hadn’t. He started shouting at me that I got too close & that I know he’s a nervous passenger & could I keep back please. I reciprocated & pulled back. Now I thought I was keeping my distance, that 8 meters was quite a way away & that sometimes I have to go a bit closer but he wasn’t having any of it. I had done wrong & I should apologise. I didn’t, I tried to explain my position & how I am trying to gauge what he considers close compared to what I consider close, that I was being considerate or so I thought & we obviously have a discrepancy. I pulled right back, he responded by asking if I was just being obtuse now & being a dick. I replied with “no I’m just trying to stay back, I don’t know how far is too far or too close”. I then said that he may be got wound up by talking about something he didn’t like then took it out on me. He replied”stop reminding me I’m mental, that’s all you do”. He then compared me to his mother saying all I say is a denial of what I’ve done instead of apologising & is my ego so big that I can’t allow myself to be seen as making a mistake? That all I do is try & battle him instead of just apologising. All I wanted was a nice easy journey with him.
I shut up.
Now it’s that hormonal time for me & I don’t respond or react well when we argue when I’m in this hormonal overdose state. What he doesn’t realise was that from that moment all I wanted to do was drive us off the road, that I had been driving incredibly carefully up to that point & that from that point on I was preoccupied with shaking the ‘what’s the fucking point & I’ve upset him again, I’m shit’ thought out of my head. So was more distracted than I was earlier.
I did however drive home slowly & considerately & miles away from all cars.
Now he’s asleep on the sofa & I’m just coming down from finishing up some work & writing this, I’m adrenalised to the max & have to go out with his mother tonight. The last thing I want to do.
I put the wrong program on the tv and all the hard work and nicety of the past week went out the window, he’s stormed to bed.
I’m sat reading, writing & drinking red wine alone.
Something tragic truly happened, one lax moment of thought results in a tragedy of such magnitude you can’t imagine how that person can go on, how do they live with the guilt, knowing that their action caused the death of a child, their child, in such a cruel way.
So many times I have also forgotten to pull that lever myself, so many times it can happen to anyone, that one lapse in judgment, mind elsewhere, muscle memory failure.
Pull the handbrake…