I have never been one to use an excited up-beat bloggers voice. You know me now. If I say I love you I absolutely mean it in that moment. If I say I am grasping here – feeling like I am being left behind – you know I am going to be raw and vulnerable. Uncomfortable.
Maybe even prickly.
Vulnerable and prickly is not weak. It is shown to you with the confidence that I can surf it. Ride this period out. But first I need to write it out.
In the middle of the night I woke up and lay in bed a while to think.
Boo was immediately standing at the door. He knows what midnight thinking means. But it was wet and blustery outside last night. Not good for hearing night sounds.
My stomach rumbled. That empty feeling.
I sat up for a few hours hoping for profound thoughts but found none. I have hit a period marked by unproductivety. Mired in this back and forth pattern – only just staying ahead of the demands of others. Achieving so little. Everything is adequate. Everyone is warm and clean and fed. Like many caregivers before me I feel I am getting stretched thinner, the demands piling on. The animals are getting no real attention. I spend so much time at the house in town that my own home does not smell right – I can smell ash somewhere – a dead mouse left by a cat, maybe. Drying up. It has been weeks since the dogs and I went for a good walk. I am not even really cooking at the moment. (Just making frequent feeds of nursery food for the elderly). I cannot tell you when I last had a proper meal- eaten with conversation. A breakfast. By the time I get back to the house in the evening the lights are out and the stove is ticking down.
I eat a little of whatever is left over in a pan, cold, with a spoon, standing at the stove. My bag still on my shoulder. Pulling off my shoes. I feed the dogs and feed the cats put on my gumboots and do night chores then retire to my desk to try to do a little writing before giving in and sleeping.
This has got to change.
I should be doing more and doing better but with all the ups and downs (yesterday we had another down day) I cannot recover my writing rhythm. I am learning to write on the fly – at any table – in any chair – in the car as it idles – in a back bedroom – noise about me all the time – cigarette smoke and radio and the crash of the walker, the calling out.
I looked into the kitchens garden last night on my short night walk – I need to get that all sorted and put to bed for the winter.
By dawn I was asleep then awake again.
At the very least I need to wash my hair! Not this morning though – shower morning in town, then the doctors, then PT.
Today (when I get a break – when John covers nap time) I will try again to clean out the white chickens bedroom – my wheelbarrow has a flat tire which is not helpful.
Here is this weeks Sunday Podcast. The Old Lady and The Dead Boy.
It is good.
I have never been one to use that pretend excited bloggers voice. You get me. Full me. All of me. That is how we are – you and I.
I hope you have a good day. Mine will get better.
Sorry.
Celi
The Kitchen's Garden 
44 responses to “The Middle of the Night”
It will get better, c, because loved ones aren’t with us forever so loved ones come first. The rest will fall into its own rhythm and place. But sleep and nourishment can’t be ignored. ❤️
She is pretty tough this old lady. I think my heart will give out before hers!!
I hope you can find a little extra help some where? I’ve been there, and I know how important it is even to just get away for a cup of coffee and a chat with a friend for an hour.
I can’t help with the sleep department; I rarely sleep through the night without a long wide awake stretch in the middle.
Take care 💕
So, you are the wheelbarrow with the flat tire.
(Honestly that image is it)
This is more than just a “simmering period” – but you shall get through the exhaustion, the frustration, and the endless interruptions. You must give in a bit (Like you already haven’t..)
You are strong and the earth and animals are feeding you secretly. Just hang in there. The rhythm will return. Meanwhile be gentle on yourself – those of great ability and capacity are the ones who are given the heaviest burdens. Writing and the garden nags – a selfish bosses – can be told, “get in line”. But walking – even a short walk outside (marching to do chores doesn’t count) You need that. Steal a moment or two with Boo – You need that Ci. Restores a bit of balance and yourself to yourself.
(HUGS and supporting energy sent…and a paw wave from Hank…you’ll forgive the dirt clods flung…dog enthusiasm, you know)
Marching to do chores does not count!! Ha!! What an awesome comment. I am the wheelbarrow with the flat tire!! That is too funny.
You are right about going for a walk. It is hard when I don’t get back to the farm until after dark and Boo is out there and I am here – trapped in town. But I need to find a way.
In overload here, too. (Sr Staff dealing with 2 cancers during lockdown and still) The exhaustion is real, but even a minute outside looking at a dark sky with a dog steadies and helps. Star light, star bright – just like childhood. Hang in there. (Will swish some star dust your way each night…)
I believe you wrote a post not too long ago about putting on your own life jacket first.
So please look after yourself as well. Sending love and hugs. (that last podcast was so good I listened to it twice)
Oh – you are right. I did and thank you for listening to my podcasts. It gives me such joy to make them. I think satisfaction is a better word than joy but it is a medium I am falling in love with.
Your story of the Fat Lady and the Dead Boy moved me very much. Well told.
Thank you so much Jim. I was not sure whether is was too raw – too real to publish. Though it is a true story.
Not too real or raw for me. Yes, for some. But, it was truthful, not embellished, and from the heart. Many insights into human behaviors.
Keep up the good writing.
I am exhausted for you – twice in my life I’ve rowed that same boat upstream. Not sure how I did it – but then isn’t how that works – we do what we need to do when we need to do it, and we pull it off by giving up ourselves to get it done. Caregiving for a family member is a life altering experience. My thoughts are with you.
There are many in the same position as me. Many of us – like you. I really don’t want my life to be altered but often we don’t get a choice.
Because you are real I will be real and I must ask- is there no possibility of finding help, and I am not speaking of the family, I am speaking of outside help? Rather that is hiring someone to come in, or moving someone to a full time care location? I think that there were many, varied reasons that the story of the fat old lady appeared this weekend. I see so much meaning behind it…so many meanings. There is one that is key to me, reading this morning how this struggle is playing out. I think you most of all see how the toll will impact everyone, and you are trying desperately to ignore the toll to yourself. Please stop. I know you see the pain of speaking and making needed changes yet who else can be the one to speak and act and do what is necessary for everyone’s needs. I think that there is a Matriarch hiding in that fat old story lady C. Perhaps this needs to be the moment that you give this lady, in this current story the opportunity to hold you up, to understand your pain and struggle and to carry you by allowing this great responsibility you have taken on to become someone else’s role…
I hope that this is part of what you were thinking in the middle of the night. There is no judgement in this, only the knowledge that someone must be the first to make the decision and I know that you are not afraid to be the voice behind the choices that are needed. Much love C.
You have made me cry/ I did not see the parallel but I do appreciate you seeing it – there is just so damn much going on.
I just keep hoping she will get better.
Oh C- I am not beyond saying that crying is called for given all that is happening. I think we always want to have hope, but maybe the real struggle comes not from the constant motion of caring actions but from the knowing that perhaps it is closer to the time to say goodbye and let go. I remember that moment, sitting alone with my father who was revived and never should have been. It was almost more cruel to bring him back… but we talked (I talked actually and I believe some part of him heard). I know you know all this from life experience and will find your way to what is right. Just know that we all stand with you and offer our support and strength with our words and send you constant hugs and love.
I’m going to put my Mom and coaching hats on and say: give yourself some grace here. Of course things are just getting by–you are doing amazing caregiving work and knowing you, you are doing it with a heart full of love. So quit beating yourself up and go easy. Today, instead of cleaning out the chickens, sit for a minute with cup of coffee. Write in your journal. Whatever gives you some spaciousness within. Also remember: this too, shall pass. Meanwhile, I send you scads of love.
Thank you for the scads of love! I still have no cover so I can’t get back out to the chickens anyway! I love your Mom hat!!
Well, for what it’s worth I think that Deb’s advice (above) is right on target. At some point someone will have to decide that things are barely holding together and some other arrangement must be made. My sister calls your situation “the curse of capability”—-the person who is so good at taking care of things is always the one who automatically ends up bearing most of the burden. It seems sensible at the time—– Cici will take care of it she’s so good at that etc. etc. But at some point one person really can’t deal with everything on his or her plate and needs to seek and insist that additional help (from what ever source that’s possible) be added to the mix.
My comment comes from someone who has no experience of caregiving so may not be on target, but I do see how much you are taking on and think that you need some additional help. Doing that for yourself is not selfish or uncaring but will allow you to function more effectively.
The curse of capability – never a truer word said- I am going to remember those words. This is exactly it.
For some reason I thought she would get better. She really is not that old – not to my mind anyway.
I hope the Matriarch picks up a bit and life can go back to normal soon.
Faboulous top picture!
Oh yes! The sunrise this morning. I love it when there is only that moment before the sun disappears behind the clouds. Very dreary weather here lately.
Be patient with yourself. I am glad you acknowledge that something has to give. We are not called on to be superheroes for extended periods of time. We ALL need help, and recognizing that is the first step to finding a solution, even a temporary one.
Thinking of you.
I do have a good little team and one whole extra person for the next two days. And a plan for a day on the weekend. So things will get easier. Thank you so much for your thoughts.
You are doing so much, Celi.
I really hope the Matriarch – if I may call her that – has more good days than bad.
You can call her The Matriarch- she rather likes it.!
Your post made me feel so sad but did not surprise. Some time for yourself is so necessary. I sincerely hope that there is some improvement for you very soon. Please give yourself some time however impossible that may seem, there has to be a way.
It is good to write these things out sometimes – words add clarity. We will just have to see what happens next.
I agree with the suggestion that you find someone to come in and help. Someone who can give you a full day to yourself. I didn’t have that until the last few days of my mother’s life when she was at home with hospice and my spouse finally stepped up to help.
I had those hours in the small watches of the night, awake, wanting to be asleep and thinking about things that only prevented the sleep from coming. If it was warm enough I’d get out of bed and go down to sit on the glider on the screened porch, going back and forth in the quiet was soothing and it wasn’t unusual for me to fall back asleep out there. In the colder weather I’d sit up in bed and read instead of letting the thoughts run wild. I stopped trying to write because it all got so muddled none of it made sense and what little did was mostly me saying how unhappy I was with the situation I couldn’t change until I hit the point where I was numb. That affected how I took care of those needing it, I was only going through the motions and wanted to escape.
So, yes, find someone to come in for a whole day. It sounds very much like you’re headed to that numb place and you don’t want or need to go there.
I am a caregiver at the moment, too. I understand and feel for you when you say everything is adequate yet you know that is not enough, not your usual best self, but all that can be done at the moment. The comments today are heartfelt, “the curse of capability” resonates. Hope you feel all the compassion and affection in these comments and that it helps.