Two weeks ago, as I was trying to deescalate an angry tirade about anothe person, my mother screamed at me that I wasn't listening to her. I stopped in my tracks and replied "Yes, ma'am," to her assertion of her own authority and her feelings. I then left the room and cried. My sons, thankfully, were present and were able to be there for her as I elected to retreat home for the night.
I just returned from a week out of town on Pacific time. My mom didn't answer the phone when I called midweek, so I waited until today to call her again. This time she answered. I asked about her week, told her a little about mine. She then told me that she had gone to the bank and removed me from her account and canceled my debit card, that she wanted control of her finances back. She said they showed her the power of attorney that was on file and that "you must have done it when Daddy was so sick." She commented on the Target bill that I told her I was ceasing to pay because she was making no inroads on it and that she needed to save her money. At the time I did that, she agreed. Now she doesn't remember.
I'll have to talk to the bank to find out how it's possible for someone who's got a designated POA to close them out of the account. I am sure it's not as foolproof as a conservatorship and I'm sure the bank didn't do anything wrong, only what they have to do.
But damn, this hurts. Worse than anything I can remember. I know it's the disease. Mostly. But the spite of doing that without telling me first. Wow. My own resentments then surface, remembering the all the work I've done in the last year to make her life easier, automating payments, preventing her car from being repossessed due to her forgetting to pay the bill, taking many hours of off work, for this. And her "well, I can add you back on later when I need to," with its blithe disregard for the fact that I have to take off work to go to the bank, was the pickle atop the sour sundae.
I know I need to talk to an elder law attorney, folks at the Alzheimer's Association, and many other things in order to get support and make a plan for the progress of this disease which she doesn't even remember she has. But I'm just so tired. I'm almost out of PTO for this year, I feel guilty for anything I use it for that doesn't have anything to do with my mother, and am overwhelmed with all the "shoulds" and "must dos" swirling in my mind. And it's just the beginning.
And underneath it all I'm both sad and angry, grieving the loss of my mother in ways I never expected and angry at her to a degree that brings me ovewhelming shame, for which my recovery work is the only cure.
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Amen.
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