I’ve been wading through the motions of complex grief and caregivers ptsd. I feel like I’m at my wits end. Word vomit to ensue.
A little over two years ago I lost my mom to lung cancer. The diagnoses came in the spring of 2017. It was unexpected, and shattered my world.
Mom was young, vibrant and healthy. She didn’t smoke, ate well and exercised. She laughed more than she cried and gave more than she ever took.
Spring turned to fall and our torch of positivity began to fade. Customized treatments weren’t working and she was deemed terminal.
On October 30 mom called me in tears. Chemo wasn’t working and she wanted to stop but didn’t want me to be disappointed or mad. I supported her and told her to do what she needed to. That I loved her always. I hate that I didn’t make her fight.
November 4 would be the last good day we would have. Promises of shopping the next weekend we’re made, never to be fulfilled.
The next weekend came and I realized the gravity of the situation. (I suspect) it had metastasized throughout her chest cavity and spread to her brain. This speculation was due to her worsening condition, the need of a neck brace due to visible tumours in her neck and her deteriorating mental state. My parents, out of want to protect, never gave me details. I was left to google and read through paper work myself when I could.
She wasn’t my mom anymore. She was scared and sick and sore but still trying to protect me. My family was in denial and no one would talk about death.
I made the decision to stay home because dad was rubbing himself ragged taking care of her and working. I took classes online, worked when dad was home and we took shifts staying awake to ensure mom didn’t wander at night.
The next 2 months were filled with fear, tears, falls, force feeding food and medication, denial, and pain. There was no sleep for fear of her falling at night. I bathed her, took her to the bathroom, gave her her medication, listened to her fears, lied to reassure her she would be ok, and tried to calm her when she had anxiety attacks about death.
On January 8 I told dad I couldn’t physically take care of her. Despite how light her fragile body was, it was too much to take care of. We found her a wonderful spot in hospice where she stayed for two nights before passing. I wasn’t there when she died. I arrived 20,minutes too late and I’m not sure if I wish I was there or not. The battle was short lived and arose out of nowhere.
The next month was hectic. I arranged the funeral, kept dad fed and the house clean, hosted gatherings and essentially filled moms shoes. She was the life of every party, a natural born host. I sent letters and packages and cooked and bought gifts. I tried to do everything she would do. I spent the summer of 2018 living like this in dads house. Keeping it the way mom would, cleaning, reminding him of events and birthdays and anniversaries.
2018/2019 was spent take seven and eight courses to graduate on time. I was too busy to bed sad.
Everything came crashing down that summer. I had graduated, I had a career, a partner, a house. Dad was trying to talk to a new woman because he knew mom wouldn’t want him alone.
And then there was me. I felt everything at once. Anger, fear, confusion, emptiness, resentment. I can’t go to my dads house without expediting extremely anxiety. I’m withdrawn, I can’t talk about my mom and get angry when people do. I break down inch controllable sadness multiple times a week. I see her face in my dreams, when I’m awake, everywhere. I cry in stores and at work. I see her frail body and think of all the things I should have done differently. I’m enraged when I think of what happened.
It won’t go away. I can’t process it. I can’t move through it. This fall I was diagnosed with complex grief and caregivers ptsd. Things I didn’t know existed.
My family got over it. My dad, brother, sister. They’re still sad but they are processing, dealing, living. Meanwhile I feel like I’ve literally had a piece of my inside carved out and replaced with unending anxiety and avoidance.
How do I end this. Please.
TLDR; caregiver to my mom who died of lung cancer. Diagnoses with complex grief and caregivers ptsd. Avoidance, anger and anxiety. Help.
To add: to this day I awake in fear when my partner gets out of bed if I’m sleeping. This is due to a fall mom took one night when I accidentally fell asleep. The crash I awoke to was terrifying.
A little over two years ago I lost my mom to lung cancer. The diagnoses came in the spring of 2017. It was unexpected, and shattered my world.
Mom was young, vibrant and healthy. She didn’t smoke, ate well and exercised. She laughed more than she cried and gave more than she ever took.
Spring turned to fall and our torch of positivity began to fade. Customized treatments weren’t working and she was deemed terminal.
On October 30 mom called me in tears. Chemo wasn’t working and she wanted to stop but didn’t want me to be disappointed or mad. I supported her and told her to do what she needed to. That I loved her always. I hate that I didn’t make her fight.
November 4 would be the last good day we would have. Promises of shopping the next weekend we’re made, never to be fulfilled.
The next weekend came and I realized the gravity of the situation. (I suspect) it had metastasized throughout her chest cavity and spread to her brain. This speculation was due to her worsening condition, the need of a neck brace due to visible tumours in her neck and her deteriorating mental state. My parents, out of want to protect, never gave me details. I was left to google and read through paper work myself when I could.
She wasn’t my mom anymore. She was scared and sick and sore but still trying to protect me. My family was in denial and no one would talk about death.
I made the decision to stay home because dad was rubbing himself ragged taking care of her and working. I took classes online, worked when dad was home and we took shifts staying awake to ensure mom didn’t wander at night.
The next 2 months were filled with fear, tears, falls, force feeding food and medication, denial, and pain. There was no sleep for fear of her falling at night. I bathed her, took her to the bathroom, gave her her medication, listened to her fears, lied to reassure her she would be ok, and tried to calm her when she had anxiety attacks about death.
On January 8 I told dad I couldn’t physically take care of her. Despite how light her fragile body was, it was too much to take care of. We found her a wonderful spot in hospice where she stayed for two nights before passing. I wasn’t there when she died. I arrived 20,minutes too late and I’m not sure if I wish I was there or not. The battle was short lived and arose out of nowhere.
The next month was hectic. I arranged the funeral, kept dad fed and the house clean, hosted gatherings and essentially filled moms shoes. She was the life of every party, a natural born host. I sent letters and packages and cooked and bought gifts. I tried to do everything she would do. I spent the summer of 2018 living like this in dads house. Keeping it the way mom would, cleaning, reminding him of events and birthdays and anniversaries.
2018/2019 was spent take seven and eight courses to graduate on time. I was too busy to bed sad.
Everything came crashing down that summer. I had graduated, I had a career, a partner, a house. Dad was trying to talk to a new woman because he knew mom wouldn’t want him alone.
And then there was me. I felt everything at once. Anger, fear, confusion, emptiness, resentment. I can’t go to my dads house without expediting extremely anxiety. I’m withdrawn, I can’t talk about my mom and get angry when people do. I break down inch controllable sadness multiple times a week. I see her face in my dreams, when I’m awake, everywhere. I cry in stores and at work. I see her frail body and think of all the things I should have done differently. I’m enraged when I think of what happened.
It won’t go away. I can’t process it. I can’t move through it. This fall I was diagnosed with complex grief and caregivers ptsd. Things I didn’t know existed.
My family got over it. My dad, brother, sister. They’re still sad but they are processing, dealing, living. Meanwhile I feel like I’ve literally had a piece of my inside carved out and replaced with unending anxiety and avoidance.
How do I end this. Please.
TLDR; caregiver to my mom who died of lung cancer. Diagnoses with complex grief and caregivers ptsd. Avoidance, anger and anxiety. Help.
To add: to this day I awake in fear when my partner gets out of bed if I’m sleeping. This is due to a fall mom took one night when I accidentally fell asleep. The crash I awoke to was terrifying.
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