Stalled, Stumped and Down

Well, that pretty much sums it up. Feeling soooo down I haven't been able to write. Which is unusual. Maybe anger is a much more condusive emotion for writing. Some of my better blog posts have come during bouts of newly explored rage. So exactly what am I down about? Not exactly sure but I think it has to do with my adoptive dad's recent tumble down the dementia slide. Suddenly, he's hardly able to walk, falls constantly and the usually unflappable nurse at the assisted living facility seems surprised at his rapid deterioration. This is my second parent to develop dementia to which I say...THANK GOD I'M ADOPTED....that I am not biologically related to these poor, unfortunate people because Alzheimers and Lewy Bodies are diseases from hell.

Maybe I'm overwhelmed. It may have to do with something I'm calling "parentified child fatigue." When you spend your life listening, reassuring and parenting your parent, when you finally grow up and wise up and learn to emotionally detach - just a bit - then, when you're called by life to parent your aging parent because it's the right thing to do...then there's nothing...no reserve of good will and sense of payback...the well is dry. Except now the parent is not just self-absorbed, he is nearly pathologically so. Throw in some paranoid delusions and blame that somehow I am at fault for his falls, incontinence and all the assistance he now requires and, well, it all just takes up a big space, crowding out whatever little creativity I had.

And the worst part is...I HATE feeling blah and listless and sad and about what...exactly? It's out there, the reason(s), but they are like ghosts and won't reveal themselves.

But...dammit...I will get back my life spark or whatever that good, positive feeling is and I'm going to re-read Anne Lamott's excellent book, Bird by Bird, tomorrow and start writing even if it's absolute crap.