Megan Williams6 said:You're right, I am falling apart. The mornings are the absolute worst. You have a nice dream, wake up feeling okay, and then reality hits—you remember Mom and everything else, and the first thing you think is, "Oh god, not again." Just another day of misery and uncertainty. It’s like living with a guillotine hanging over your head by a thin thread for months on end; you never know when it’s going to drop, and the worst part is that you've already been robbed of any chance at joy or peace. My mind is stuck on a loop: "What do I do?" The situation feels impossible, yet I have to find a way out. This year, I haven't heard a single comforting word from the doctors—except from one of them—it's just been nothing but the worst news over and over. I can't even get enough calming medication; I can only get one box of Normabel a month, which barely lasts me four days because I need to take four or five pills at once just to feel a tiny bit of relief. It’s a dosage issue—I weigh 320 pounds, so I need more than that, but I refuse to turn to alcohol or cigarettes to cope, because that would just make everything worse—between this and the hangovers, I wouldn't stand a chance. I honestly wish I could just "hate" my mother or have her hate me; it would be so much easier.🙂🙂🤷
I don't think your love for your mother should be an excuse for this kind of self-destruction. To be blunt, you're making yourself even sicker than she is, and honestly, that feels pretty selfish. Being 320 pounds, relying on heavy meds, and potentially leaning on alcohol or nicotine is a ticking time bomb. You're sitting there ready to explode and take your family and everything you actually value down with you. At this rate, you might actually die before she does.
Sit down, look in the mirror, and get REAL about this situation, please. I can tell you're a good person, and it would be a damn tragedy if your wife and kids lost you just because your priorities and values have gone completely sideways.