Happy New Year to all! Yes, I know, it’s February, damn it, you’re lucky I’m even writing this. First of all, I’m letting you know I’m stepping away from social media for a while, so this will be my last post for some time (it could be days, haha). If you want to know about my life, you can check this blog, which will be the only thing I’ll keep active. We’ve reached the point where it’s time to talk about this subject, I think the most important one of all, and the one that many people don’t like to discuss (although it’s now trendy). Today, I want to talk to you about Mental Health, but not my mother’s, mine, because right now I think mine is the most concerning since she and my children need me to stay sane.

I’ve been thinking for months about what I would write, what I would tell you, whether I should be frank, if I should keep some things private, but the truth is, you all know how I am, and I don’t like to keep anything to myself, I throw it all out, and that’s what I’ll do with my words today.

My mother is now in the final stage of her illness. The deterioration has been brutal, and although we’ve tried to stop it, we’re going full throttle. I’ll tell you that she no longer knows not only who we are, but I doubt she even knows who she is. We have to feed her and remind her how to chew and swallow. Now, she either sucks, bites, and spits out the pills, or she closes her mouth so we can’t give them to her. It can take us more than an hour to feed her.

Personal hygiene is another very tough part, as she’s also forgotten how to pee and poop, and although she wears diapers at night, it seems to bother her, so she takes them off, and sometimes she leaves “gifts” around the house (kind of like when you hide Easter eggs for the kids, just like that). Haha, I laugh because otherwise, my mental health (which we’re talking about today) would have already exploded, and I’d be writing this from the asylum. So, no judgment… I continue…

Now, she’s started trying to escape the house. The other day, the neighbor knocked on our door at 3 a.m. to “bring her back.” It seems that now her sleep schedule is reversed, she sleeps during the day and is active at night. So, she spends the night circling the house and causing chaos. We have cameras in the house, so I set up the alarm in case there’s any movement, and it goes off every hour (my son and I take turns—today it’s your turn, or from 1 to 3, you, and from 4 to 7, I, depending on what we need to do the next day). Today, I looked at my son and said, “What the hell is going on with your eyes? Do you have purple bags?” And he said, “No, mom, those are my dark circles.” The poor guy is studying and working, and I don’t know how he does it.

Another new thing with the disease, and I think the most amusing, is her imaginary friends (or maybe they’re not imaginary). Now, when she says something (the little she talks), she says “we,” meaning she speaks in plural. She says, “Can’t you see her?” or “We’ve been thinking that…” The other night at dinner, she insisted that I set a plate for the “guest.” If we’re sitting on the couch, she gestures for me to move over to make space for her friend. I have to tell you that when I’m alone with her at night, I get scared, especially when she says, “She’s behind you.” I freak out.

I always say it’s like having a baby at home, the problem is when you have a baby, you also get maternity leave, and although you don’t sleep, all you do is take care of the baby. I have to care for the “baby,” work, take care of the house, worry about my kids, and figure out how to manage university payments (I accept donations, haha) and a thousand other little things.

That being said, my mental health is at an all-time low right now. I keep smiling, I keep laughing, I keep making jokes, I keep up the energy you all know, but I miss some people who, I imagine, because of their own struggles in their lives, forget about me, about the “Hey, how’s it going, Nuria?” I think they think if they ask me something, I’ll infect them with my troubles. Well, no, I’d appreciate a simple “Hey, I’m your friend, I’m here.”

For now, that’s how it is. While writing this, I received a certified letter addressed to my mother, and I thought, “It must be about the residency application I made in September,” but no, it was the resolution of the telecare I requested on December 14, 2021. Hahahaha, sorry, hahaha, if we do the math, the residency will be granted by the end of 2024 (well, if not for my mother, then for me).