Another hazy day and my mood drops……

Last week I wake up to another hazy, foggy day, fourth in a row. For the last three days, I’ve still gone out for a little trundle, occupied myself in the house, or simply given in and hidden underneath the duvet. But I was able to keep my mood on an even keele. Just living with the nuisance of dementia clinging even tighter, but not allowing it the lip service of acknowledgment…but today…..

The weather was dull, very breezy, rainy and univiting. My head felt heavy under the weight of dementia bursting from my head. The thought of a trundle just didn’t appeal, as if going out would make dementia visible , striding beside me. laughing at my slow pace for all to see.

No today, my mood matched the weather. I was fed up of dementia hanging around like an unwelcome guest. I sat in the Conservatory with my camera, trying to distract myself, to lift myself out of this state with the aid of nature. It worked for that hour, lost as I was in the camera lense watching the determined squirrel not be be out done by my squirrel proof feeders. A whole hour it tried various manoeuvres, attacking from various angles, just like the dementia was doing to me, attacking me from all angles, leaving me lethargic, empty and wondering what barrier I could put up against it, just like the bird feeders had been designed to do.

But after an hour of hanging upside down, trying to remove the lid, climbing up the fence and attacking from beneath, 

…the squirrel gave up and made do with the seeds the birds had dropped, them looking quite pleased with themselves at being able to hop on, take a tasty morsel and fly off in full view of this squirrel. Robins and Blue Tits, Dunnocks and Sparrows, all revelling in their ability to succeed where the squirrel had failed.

Just like I’d failed to outmanoeuvre dementia today. I knew how he felt, as he scraped up the left overs that had fallen to the ground…

I was getting cold, the heating not due on for hours. If I changed the settings, I wouldn’t know how to put it right, so I choose to leave it, easier that way. Upstairs, my bed provides a comfort of warmth and a view of the tree tops. I put a hottie inside each pocket, just in case…

I load the photos through the camera app, so they magically transfer  to my ipad. The light suddenly appearing on the camera signalling connection and the magic starts before my eyes. One photo after another making an appearance on screen. I feel my mouth turn up at the corners at the appearance of the squirrel, no emotion, just the movement.  My hands thank goodness know what to do, because my brain is riddled with sludge today, a thick dark sludge….

My eye lids, heavy from the lack of sleep these past few nights, seccumb to gravity, yet I feel my eyes wide open beneath the darkness, resting in the shadows. I despartely try and convince them to sleep but they like me feel empty today, driven down in mood by the constant attack from dementia.

Some days are easier to cope with, easier to ride the haze, allow it to have its way but today it’s brought me down, made me feel like I’m not winning this battle I didn’t ask to fight. 

I see a bag next to my bed and reach inside, not remembering what I placed in there and take out a single pebble. It smells of the sea, or is that my wishful thinking? I remembered I’d placed them there to do Christmas themed images on them. Without expression, without real interest mt fingers search my photos for images I’d found on a better day to try and copy. I slide the acrylic pens out of their box onto the bed beside me, all colours,but I  select a black one automatically to draw the outline, my fingers once again reassuringly helping me to feel human, to feel capable. I copy the image in front of me, bit by bit. A mushroom shape for the hat, a small squashed circle for the face, 2 circular eyes and a round nose, a scarf wrapped round its neck and a large round squashed body, arms at his side. I pick up the red pen and start colouring the hat, small circular movements or single strokes one after the other allowing me to colour it in, then the same with the scarf and 2 tiny buttons.

The only sound is the pen on the rough stone and my breathing. I would normally be full of concentration, full of enthusiasm but not today. Today I’m doing it to show dementia I can, but not with my usual conviction. I watch with empty eyes as the image comes to life

I sigh a huge sigh at its completion instead of with joy and satisfaction, but I did it. I realise the empty day will continue and resign myself to the fact that today is a sad day, nothing able to lighten my mood. And I feel my eyelids succumb to gravity once more and somewhere in the distance I hear a pen drop to the floor…

About wendy7713

On the 31st July 2014 I was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s. I may not have much of a short term memory anymore but that date is one I’ll never forget. I’m 58 years young, live happily alone in Yorkshire, have 2 daughters and I’m currently still in full time employment in the NHS. However, I’m now in the process of taking early retirement to give me a chance of enjoying life while I’m still me. I've started this blog to allow me, in the first instance, to write all my thoughts before they’re lost. If anyone chooses to follow my ramblings it will serve as a way of raising awareness on the lack of research into Alzheimer's. It will hopefully convey the helplessness of those diagnosed with dementia, as there is no cure – the end is inevitable. However, I’m also hoping I can convey that, although we've been diagnosed, people like me still have a substantial contribution to make; we still have a sense of humour; we sill have feelings. I’m hoping to show the reality of trying to cope on a day to day basis with the ever-changing environment that dementia throws at those diagnosed with the condition. What I want is not sympathy. What I want is simply to raise awareness.

36 thoughts on “Another hazy day and my mood drops……

  1. I love the pebble! I think that squirrel was fighting hard just like you do everyday. Even if it doesn’t get to your bird feeder it will find other sustenance, just as you keep going headfast into each day.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. What a sad Blog but it had a result; a really nice little Christmas stone that in it’s simplicity provides incouragement. I don’t know for whom or what but I hope you feel it too. 💖

    Liked by 1 person

  3. A very moving post. So sad, yet your painting demonstrates optimism. It says so much about the Wendy I have come to know on here! I don’t have dementia Wendy but, though not typical, I have had bad days of disorientation and confusion, lacking in focus which is so common for everyone living through this pandemic. For us all, is another day tomorrow….. Hope remains.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I can understand how you were feeling. For different reasons, I also have bad days. The pass. Every thing passes. The good ones too, unfortunately. We just have to keep living, one moment at a time, bravely, because to live is not for the weak. Please receive my love at distance, all the way from Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.♥️

    Liked by 1 person

  5. I love your snowman – he’s cute. And what a fun idea

    I haven’t spoken to you in awhile (I guess you know I got booted off of Twitter – still don’t know why and I’m stubbornly not going back). I really enjoy your chats and especially your photos from your trundles – your most recent ones were amazing. I have to say, though, I was worrying about you – thinking you might get lost or just get too weary to be able to go on.

    I feel for you – I can sure hear your pain and frustration today. But, you remind me of my mom, from whom I get my strength to carry on: she’d let herself wallow a little in her sorrow and then give herself a good kick in the butt and carry back on as usual. That’s you, Wendy! Here on this side of the ocean we’d say “Keep on truckin’!” To you, I say, “Keep on trundlin’!”. LOL

    Thinking of you with lots of good thoughts! Your daughters are in my thoughts, too – I have one of those beauties and she cares for me and her dad just like yours do. Aren’t we blessed!

    D.❤️💐

    ________________________________

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Hi Wendy. So sorry to hear you are having a run of foggy days, but your determination to carry on in the face of such confusion is an inspiration. My husband has been through the same thing this week and I hate to see him so sad and down, but yesterday was a much better day as the sun was shining and we managed our walk thru the woods which are beautiful. Nature is such a wondrous healer and the rest of the day he was so much happier and all the better for being out doors. We have green parrots in our local woods and they were flying around and calling to each other. He loves to see them and lifted his mood. I wish you many more sunny days and hope the fog clears soon. Much love to you. Janet and Bill

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Hi Wendy,
    I tell you what? As awful as you feel here, and let’s face it, there’s a lot to feel awful about and no shame in admitting at times: Your piece above is one of the most amazing bits of writing you’ve produced in my humble view. Nothing I’ve read conveys to me more the sadness and dejection that must be faced at times living with dementia. But even in your low state of mind you manage to capture your feelings so eloquently. I don’t think it can be matched. That may not make you feel better, why should it, but without doubt you are a quite remarkable person.

    I wish I could offer you comfort but the best kind requires faith and that’s not the possession of everyone, although it takes but a little seed from which to grow if we allow it. Some encouraging words are to be found at Isaiah 30:15 “By returning to me and resting, you will be saved; Your strength will be in keeping calm and showing trust.” Dementia is your cruel companion but God invites us to take his hand.

    Liked by 1 person

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