Lost

I am an abused woman. It’s difficult to say, its difficult to know, but it is the truth. The fearing of what is the mood going to be like when I get home, afraid to say or do the wrong thing is what I go through daily. There are times when I have days, even a week where things are great. There are other times when its hour to hour. We’ve heard this story in real life and on tons of Lifetime movies. Many can relate to it.  My abuser has a mental illness. My abuser is my 74 years old. My abuser is my mother with FT Dementia, Early Alzheimer’s.

The ironic thing is that my Mom would often to tell me as a young adult to never stay with an abusive man. Whether a man’s tongue lashed at me or he put a hand on me, I was to leave and quickly get out of that relationship. She would say, “No one has the right to treat you that way.” Fast forward many years later and that is what my Mom does to me. The difference is, there is no escaping. I can’t leave. My mother is ill.

There are many people who go through this, from a spouse, loved one or child. I know some parents who are on the receiving end from a unwell child. They can’t leave either. So we trudge through, make the best of the best times and duck and weave either physically or emotionally in the worst times. Its an arduous task that we take on, but when you love someone how do you not take it on? I now can understand how people get stuck in an abusive relationship, especially if they see their abuser as needing them.

For me, I believe that once my Mom’s medication is sorted out, things may get better. I also take the good times and hold on to them. I know that the woman who stands before me ranting and raving, swinging her fists is not truly my mother. My mother has gotten lost along the way.

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