Sunday morning, sitting on the bed, both dogs are at my feet. Last night, in a spurt of enthusiasm, I mentioned to Neil that we should invite people over for a bar-b-cue today. We called the neighbors a friend of mine and our kids and set it up for six tonight. I tried to arrange it as a bring-n-braai, which is how we used to do it in the good old days. Takes the pressure off if you don't have to do everything yourself.
Neil's gone to church, and I should be up and dressed by the time he gets home, although that's probably not going to happen. I got up and looked around the house and realized we need to do a cursory tidy, and I really don't feel like doing that by myself. Cleaning and tidying have been the top activity of my week-ends for at least the last thirty years, and quite honestly, I'm not that enthusiastic about it anymore, although I still like a clean house. I'm hoping that Neil will pitch in and help me a bit when he gets back from church. I'll try to sell it to him as "let's work through the rooms together!". If he comes home, he'll help, I know he will, but there is a pretty good chance that they'll grab him at church because he is the warden, and they'll give him something to do, and being the good guy he his, and knowing, in the back of his mind what's probably in store for him here, he'll gladly do it, and only show up at 1 or 2pm. Ah well.
I know why. I think. It's the aforementioned spur of the moment invitation, which now means I have to get up and work, and also the fact that my mom has been in bed for the last couple days, and she seems out of it, which usually means she's taken pills. She has valium. She got depressed, well, more than usual, last week, and pulled what I call a "vintage Iris" stunt. We had some red wine in the house, and on Thursday night, she went into the kitchen and chugged a glass, then poured another one full and went to her room. Then she had another one after that, and who knows, maybe helped it along with some valium. Jessica told me about the chugging, and I was alarmed and went to see her in her room, just to ask if she was okay. I should have known better than to just ask; she said she was fine, and I left her. I should have taken the glass away. Later, after Neil and I had gone to bed, we heard a thud from her room - she had fallen, I picked her up and put her back in bed and told her that I was mad at her for doing this, but I know she doesn't remember. She got up again a while later, I think she fell again. She had had an accident in her bed. I got her back to bed again and went to bed myself. I fully intended to read her the riot act on Friday, but I was so mad I didn't trust myself to speak.
When she saw me on Friday, she apologized and told me how ashamed of herself she felt. I asked her why she did it - what was wrong? She asked me have I ever felt just like blotting out my feelings. Yes of course. Many many times. I understand that feeling very very well. So, sigh, I said that I forgave her, but I still plan to sit with her and talk about all this. But this time, I plan to go over a lot more than last Thursday. I want to talk about all of it, and I want her to stop this now.
I've made an appointment for her to see her doctor. I think maybe the doctor needs to review her medication and possibly increase the Zoloft - and no more Valium.
I know that my mother is depressed. Her hearing has been way off this whole summer, and she's not getting away with most of her socially awkward behavior with mainly Jessica. My poor mom has very poor social skills these days, and always manages to stand right in someone's space, or ask a million annoying questions. If she is not treated with the utmost respect, she feels rejected.
So yes, this is all at play with me, and by that, I just mean that I am turning these thoughts around and around and around in my head all the time, even when I'm smiling and talking to someone else. It's always there.