Maybe it's my imagination, but I feel like I'm losing Dad. He seems lost, bored, disinterested, depressed and angry. I understand that he has some short term memory issues and I feel like it's part of my job (along with dishing out drugs and Cheerios) to keep his brain engaged. But selfishly, I'm trying to keep myself from killing him because he's driving me crazy.
I also understand that he'd rather not be here in my house. Other than the primo meals (I am doing SOMETHING right), he pretty much hates it here.
He doesn't want to do ANYTHING. He's parked in the library with the TV and the heater on. (That's my fault. I made him go in there...for my own sanity.) It's a cocoon that makes him sleep half the day. I'm doing a poor job of getting him up and out of the chair, moving and interacting. Truth be told, I don't really care to interact with him. He hates life and I'm trying desperately not to hate my new life. It's a tug of war that he and I are having. He's trying to pull me toward the dark side. I'm resisting, but I feel like he's winning.
You know how there are some people that are great at getting people motivated? I'm not one of those people. This feels so much like when my own kids were bored and I'd suggest two or three things and then give up and hope they'd watch The Lion King for the 245th time so I wouldn't have to figure something out.
Dad doesn't seem to like me. I say that I expected that and that I was ready to handle it, but truth be told, I'd much prefer to be liked. And that's why I do my best to find new and fun desserts for him. It seems to be the only thing he likes about me - that I dish out sugar (or sugar substitutes)...to a diabetic. (And yes, this is definitely a reflection of my own poor parenting style. That my kids turned out great is nothing short of miraculous. They should be unemployed meth addicts.)
My brother called yesterday and Dad perked up. There was a tinge of excitement in his voice. When he got off the phone he said: "Your brother's coming here on Saturday!" The immature me wanted to say something sarcastic, but I didn't.
I'm losing the will to be enthusiastic. I had a giant bunch of it when I needed to convince my Dad how great living here was going to be. Now that he's here, HD TV and a comfortable chair doesn't seem to be enough for him. I can't blame him. I've stripped him of his independence and, therefore, his dignity.
Actually, if Dad got mad, it might be better. Then, at least, I'd have an emotion to deal with. What I really hate, is the blank stare....the napping...the apathy.
God, it's killing me.
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