Not really sure what to write, just feel the urge to.
I have so many words, and thoughts, and feelings going around my head I don't know what to do with them. Some are horrible, and spiteful and resentful and that bothers me.
It will be the 2 year anniversary of my Daddys death tomorrow. Not a day goes by....... :( I just can't deal with being me anymore. I try, I really do, but with so many constrictions on me it's hard. I have mum staying with me again because she doesn't want to be alone. I understand that, I really do, but I get fed up with having to keep mum happy. I suffer too, do they not realise that? I cant grieve for my dad because my mum stops me, because it upsets HER, SHE cant deal with it today... well hello ! I can't talk to anyone....... If i tell my hubby he gets the hump that mums 'infringing' on our lives so much now, I can;t talk to my sisters as they'll just say mums lonely and just trying to help,,, cant tale to my other sister as she's just lost her mum so feels a bit insensitive moaning about mine ! im just bottling it all up and trying to please everyone and the atmosphere in my house at the moment is shit !
I sit up at night just crying and talking to myself. when my family aren't listening in the hope that my Dad is...
I miss my dad. and Im angry that he's left me to deal with this. I think my mum is losing her marbles, im worried about the onset of dementia but I know my sisters will ridicule me and ignore it. They seem to think they are superior when it comes to mum.. well then ficking help me because you seem to have all the shopping days and lunch and giggles and I get the crap. the stress. the constant cleaning of my house because its not to her standards obviously... the comments to my kids, my dog, and the lies ! the stories and the lies from her, that's what's killing me. I don't know this woman anymore. I understand she is lost and has no purpose now but I need help with it all. This is not right.
Angels if you are there... not that I know if I believe or not, but I need you now.
