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”
No no no. This has to stop. You are teetering on the brink of carer burn-out. Many of us have been there, and the answer is often just one day off from the whole thing. What happens if you are sick or God forbid, injured? Who picks up the slack then? Find a way to get yourself a day off. Just one. Do something just for yourself, either self-care or a project you’re passionate about. Your body and mind are both telling you this. Listen. We will wait patiently through the scrappy writing, the affected creativity. No one out here is tapping their watch or their feet, tut-tutting because you are late or not up to your own self-imposed standards. Breathe, Miss C. Regain your balance. The Farmy Family is a warm sea of compassion, empathy, care, understanding and goodwill, buoying you up.
The writing you have managed to do both here and on Substack has been extraordinary. That said, I agree with the comments above and am going to suggest taking a step back and assessing. I’m saying this because we were recently where you are, similarly. I know you have no time to read stuff but I just posted “Don’t let the monsters drive the bus…” in this regard. We’ve just moved my MiL into residential aged care aka a nursing home because her care needs became such that our small family team, and primarily her main personal carer could no longer manage. She and we could have gone on with it at home but it was serving all of us less well. I’m not counselling the same, only suggesting a review.
Please, no sorry. As I say on my blog post… a problem disseminated is just one of life’s challenges, I guess. We are all here to learn support and learn from each other ♡
Oh Celie, you don’t want to let her go, I get that. Almost a year ago we lost my big brother. He tried so hard to hang on, he had 6 kids and 21 grandkids pulling for him but he was so, so tired. Finally his wife of 50+ years and his 6 kids told it him was ok, he could let go, they’d take care of mom (and Lucy, the dog he loved) and he did let go. Sometimes you have to give permission and sometimes you just have to put your head down and soldier on. I was on duty for my dad on the day before his pain patch was to be changed. Seeing him sit there with his head in hand literally shaking in pain tore my heart. My friend and her brother totally upended their lives to care for their cancer ridden dad, only to realize after he was gone that their mom had mentally left them some time before. Life is hard, as my grandma would say, it’s a good life if you don’t weaken. It is amazing what a person can do when in the crosshairs. I found at times something as simple as organizing a drawer or cabinet gave me as much illusion of control as I needed to carry on. Be strong, breath deep and reach deep to reconnect with your joy.
Celi darling – very briefly but from the heart . . . just stop thinking and ‘go with the flow’ . . . hour by hour and day by day . . . nature will work it out . . . your heart and head will lead you . . . just take a break from conscious thinking . . .
Oh Miss C, I wish I could be close by and clean out the chickens bed and be waiting with a warm meal and take the bag from your shoulder…..to give you a breather. Sending you thoughts and hoping that there is help for you soon, you can only keep going at the end of the rope for so long. Take care of yourself and be gentle on yourself.
Always appreciate your honesty. Thank you for that.
Sending hugs, love and positive energies your way Celi.
I am just now reading this a day later & so glad help & a turn around came for you in the nick of time. My Mother was a caregiver for at least a half dozen people of her own family & her in-laws. She too was “cursed with her capabilities.” She wore herself threadbare & became a little bit care-less after a lifetime giving her all. Thank heavens my brother was able to provide round the clock caregivers for her in her own time of extreme old age. I have not had to do much care-giving except for my child & my many pets & a few years of tending goats, geese & chickens. I’ve made my wishes clear & in order: no revivals & no heroic life-saving measures whatsoever at all. Let me be gone. I do not want my son & only child (who is single) to be burdened with my old age, any more than the light chores he sweetly does for me now. He already has some care-giving as he has brought in his elderly father who has cancer in to live with him & that is enough for him to do. I hope (& plan to) go gently into that good night. I wish in my sleep – in the middle of the night, or sitting in my chair dozing over a book or program. I hope for you strong, good, brave Celi that Someone has fixed the wheelbarrow’s flat for you by now. And that you & Boo have reconvened those lovely walks, so marvelous & healthy for the both of you. Sending you my Love over the miles & the darned internet, Judith
We all wish for such a death – and anything we can do to prepare the way is worth it – old age will come to us all. As my dear friend said – we either get old or we die.
The flat tire is still flat – I am going to have to work that out myself I think. And I can!
Change is the only constant in life, a constant I’m trying to adapt to and to accept. Even the expected changes, like the seasons, don’t change in expected ways, so change in expectations figures in. I’m one follower who has learned to wait.
This is so true! And because I am not naturally anchored I roll with changes well – it is anything that feels like a door clicking shut behind me that I do not do well with.
anciang ohhh
Boy, does this sound familiar: too much to do, not enough sleep, no ability/time to cook for oneself — that’s how it is on the worst days. Fortunately, we sometimes get breaks (nap time).
Yup! I have had two solid nights sleep and feel like a new woman!