No Food... Fear... And Empty Space

My brain is trying to find words that encapsulate an emptiness and experience that hover in the shadows way beyond description. But I know that words tumbling outward help me get through the inward battle where my fearful child self is fighting off the demons that keep tearing away fragments of the woman my mother was. Piece by piece they have torn her away from herself, away from her children, husband, friends, grandchildren... And losing her in little parts seems the most cruel form of life punishment there is. Here I am for a few short days, trying to allow my stepdad some much needed "breathing room" time. And while I feed, clothe, wash, calm, clean up accidents, I find myself in that "nothing" zone. I can't feel anything, not joy, sorrow. Not even that familiar feeling of "numb". It's a place more than any emotions or lack of emotions and I find myself wondering if this is normal. I feel like I am just an empty locust shell with all the stuff that makes me real-- gone. Missing.

Mom keeps getting upset because she thinks the refrigerator is empty. She is in fearful panick that there will be no food for her next meal. That there isn't going to be enough for dinner, let alone tomorrow and the next day and what is she going to feed us all? Around and around I follow through her loop. And we go look inside the fridge to find reassurance and we create a plan B together, working on problem solving the imaginary emergency her thoughts have created that feel more real to her than reality around her. We've talked about how maybe it stems from her brain being triggered and taken back to other times when she was so worried about lack and never knowing from where answers would come. A cleansing on a cellular level. But pure hell for her to be trapped inside of. A part of her realizes she's caught in a warped thought pattern, and tears stream out of her eyes. 

I keep thinking that what I can take from my current interaction with her is--- a sense of peaceful knowing that everything always somehow manages to work out in this life. Bills get paid. Food is provided. Clothes keep us warm. Jobs find us. We never end up completely alone. And even when we think we are at our darkest hour, some little or big thing happens to turn it all around. All of that is who my mom used to be: a woman who even in her struggles and conflicts found a way around, under and through. So in her anxiety, confusion and angst, she's pushing me towards embracing a deeper attitude of trusting that everything will always be all right.

Maybe I have to be in the empty space for awhile, a space where I can see this disease as an objective observer. Maybe in that place, I am able to rise above the hurt and harm and see a bigger picture. But man do I ever miss feeling alive and vibrant.

I'm angry at Dementia/Alzheimer's for taking away her shine and for tarnishing my own light.... Or maybe? Like the food in the fridge, the shine and light are there, just unseen right now.