In my head today: Panic

Today's theme: panic

I've just pulled random videos about panic. I mean I guess this is my thing right - I talk about shit going on in my head, or in my life, and I pair it with videos that somehow work with the theme. It's been months now since I've come over here to dither on about something. There are two very distinct reasons for this. First, I am quite simply too busy. Life exploded over the summer, and I can't seem to catch up. I know it was the right thing to do to bring my mother up from her little apartment on the coast. I know this. But I'm a planner. I prepare, I project manage. This hasn't been well planned, and so there's a lot of chaos going on.

Chaos - there's a theme to explore.

I don't think well with clutter around me. I'm one of those people. I always feel just a little gnawing at my soul when things are cluttered and I need to think. It's all just an illusion of course, because truly my best brainstorming turns into chaos. That's kind of the fun of it. A dogpile of thoughts and good creative energy.

This isn't that kind of chaos. Good chaos = creativity. Bad chaos = danger.

I decided to be a "yes" person at work this quarter as well. Sure, of course I can do your project. Yes, I would love to present for your conference. I can't think of anything more fun than designing this two day meeting. Oh and please let me write that book chapter. Now that one was important to me. I mean all of my projects mean something and I enjoy just about everything I work on. But this piece for the book. A book being put together in honor of a man that I truly cared for and admired. Outside of my normal scope of work, it fell outside of what I could realistically work on.

So, the first reason I've been scarce has just been a matter of time.

But I'm being vague, aren't I? And that leads to reason #2. I am a pressure cooker, you see. The lid is clamped on tight so that nothing escapes. Inside the pot, things are whirling around, getting hotter and hotter. But on the outside, everything must remain calm.

To cut the shit a little bit on this one - inside me I'm just a mess. But I can't lose my grip. I can't get upset or let myself feel anything too deeply, because I just don't have time for the mess that would ensue. I know how many things I have not been doing. I know how many visits I have missed with my mother. I know how much of her move there is yet to sort out. I know that I need to take care of her life to the same extent I should take care of my own. My lists grow longer and longer and I am slower and slower to cross things off.

But this isn't about lists, or finances, or appointments. It's about grief and loss and fear. It is about the image I have in my head EVERY SINGLE night - and often during the day if I don't keep myself distracted - of what my mother is doing. Of HOW she is doing. Of what happens when she is all alone. Because I know that I am not taking care of her to the extent that she needs it. I know I am failing at this task. I can feel her fear from six blocks away.

I hear it in the reports from my brother and husband. Asking for me. Mad that I am "never there." I do not think I am making things up when I say that what my mother wants (needs?) is me, there, all the time. But I can't do that. That cannot happen for a laundry list of reasons.

I remember my father's sad voice near the end of his life. "I miss you. I wish you did not have to work so hard, so that I could see you more."

Ha! So here's the appropriate video for that:


So there you go. Except that child that's growing up? That is my mother sinking deeper into her illness, and she's never going to be independent and not need me anymore. She just isn't going to know me at all.

And so there is panic. The sheer agony of knowing that I am hurting another person.... not just any person, but my mother, whom I have loved and admired (though not always respected... I mean I was a teenager at some point) my whole life. It is my fault. You can logic me out of that argument all you want, and I will still know it is true. Her Alzheimer's is not my fault. No, I don't blame myself for her genetic mutations.

Whatever. I'm tired now so it's time to wrap up another super-cheery version of my little blog. But look, when I say my "inner siren," I mean two things, right? I mean the beautiful woman inside me that sings and is stirred by beautiful music. But I also mean the horrible wailing noise that deafens me on occasions like tonight.

I do my best. I do my best.

So anyway, here are a few songs about panic.

In my head today - silence

I started this post at 7:13 pm. Hm... that's my birthday. 7/13. Nice synchronicity there.
Oh! Now I have a video to add:




I am in a place that only strikes when I'm truly stressed. There is no music in my head (except for some gawdawful deedle-dee from an ice cream truck). So here I am wanting to write, and this is my little blog, and I've got no music in my head.

But, having put the Police in above, now I'm on a roll. I'm here in my little hometown. I don't visit often - I don't really like the place all that much. I've got one old friend here, a few newer friends, and there are the beaches (which are stunning). Other than that, I've got no use for this place. But I'm here in my mother's apartment, which is high on a hill and faces my high school. It's been a loooooong time since I was there, and yet even as recently at last night it haunted my dreams.

So here is another very specific video from my high school days. I believe this was the theme of my Junior Prom:



Okay, now this is fun! Let's do another....



So here I am, with open arms.... excuse me while I verp a little. Sorry Journey - great, great song. Too many memories.

So we have musical memories, we have me in my mother's apartment, and I'm looking at my high school. I'm packing up my mother's things, preparing to leave this place for good as we move her 200 miles away so she's closer to her kids. So in theory, I won't need to come back. But perhaps I will anyway. This week I am alone in the house, save three very sweet kitties wondering what the hell is going on. Three days in, they finally gave up and decided that, since I was feeding them and all, I guess I'm sorta all right.

It is a sad time. Still watching my mother slip away into the Alzheimer's fog. It's been a bad couple of weeks - but as bad as it is for me and my family, I know it is much, much worse for her. Not much of a consolation, but it does help me show compassion and kindness.

So here is one just for my mama:



Kiri Te Kanawa is an amazing woman, someone that my mother loves. My mother herself is a fantastic soprano, even well into her senior years. If I had a video of her, I'd add it here. But her voice is merely a memory in my head, her music in my heart.

In my head today: Gravenhurst - Black Holes in the Sand

It's interesting to think about what it is that "gets" me in a song. There are a variety of things that can do it. Sometimes it's a great "hook," sometimes there's something haunting in a melody, sometimes it is a combination. In this particular case, it is two things. First, the visual in the video takes me someplace lovely. It eerily matches my Channel, you'll notice.

But before I saw this video, what got me was a single line:

"In the small hours, I realize what I have done"

I spend a lot of time thinking about those things in the "small hours" - I can be nodding off the entire evening, barely able to get my clothes off and get into bed. But as soon as the light goes out and the quiet time sets in.... little voices begin whispering to me. Lists start forming in my head, images of things done and undone pass by. Some float easily away and move the next image into my head. Other times they sit. The image plants itself, and then it slowly morphs from one image to the other, each one more distressing than the last.

When I am lucky, these images are of simple things. Why did I forget to call the mechanic becomes an image of me on the side of the road w/ my car broken down. the image of an impending meeting turns into me sitting at my desk with no way to finish my projects. Items for the grocery list float by. Mundane things. Those are the easy ones.

Others are much more painful. The larger things. The damage that once done cannot be undone. The damage of what has been left undone too long. Most nights, I see my mother sitting alone in her house, quiet and frightened - not moving much, not really doing anything but staring, and crying. Crying from fear, crying from a feeling of utter abandonment, wondering why there is no one there to care for her. Often I will hear my father's voice, wondering why I have to work so much, why he never gets to see me. Standing at his grave wondering how I missed so much of his last years - the only years we really had together. Just a reminder about priorities, and lessons I should have learned by now.

In the small hours, I realize what I have done.

Or not done.