Mom went to the hospital last night

[Gently]

Visited M in the hospital again last night with my husband. Only two days in between visits instead of three this time. She was way more energetic and animated, had much more physical strength. She sobbed when she saw me. I was able to offer comfort from a detached stance. That felt good. Not to get sucked in but to see that she needed comfort which I felt capable of offering without getting sucked in.

I had to be strong during that visit. I was more engaged in listening, but did not get pulled into her narrative of things. I stayed neutral. I was more prepared for her emotional state, more accepting of her sadness, less triggered by her sadness into thinking it was some kind of crisis or emergency. I suppose it would have felt like that when I was a child, though. If your M is emotionally unhinged a lot of the time, that is a vulnerable feeling for any child, never mind an adoptee.

My heart aches for her pain. I wish there was a way to really help her, but I know I can't. I know there are limits to the ways I can influence how she experiences her world, so much that is way beyond my power to undo or correct or compensate for. I can be kind when I have capacity to be kind. That's all. Showing up at all while staying healthy myself is a huge kindness.

She had acted out with my B and SIL earlier in the day, grabbed SIL's wrist, yelled at her, causing them to only stay a few minutes before leaving. After M's stroke two years ago, she had actually kicked SIL in the stomach in a rage to get out of her bed, so it makes sense that SIL and B would not tolerate any kind of aggression from her at all.

When M told us the version of events from yesterday, she acted dumbfounded about why they would be so upset that she had "reached out" to "touch" SIL's arm. That shed light on why she was so relieved to see me when I arrived. She knew on some level what she had done, and she was afraid she would "never see anyone again".

B and SIL will not see her today, they told her they were not able to visit the following day. I'm having a hard time writing that I will not go either, different words like: should not, haven't done two days in a row before, would be best if I didn't, don't really want to... It's possible she will have no visitors today. That has sent me trying not to act like I'm scrambling to find someone else to visit her while I look into a companion service, chaplain services, even text my adult children and let them know that tomorrow would be a good day to visit if they were so inclined.

I had to be so strong last night while I visited her. And I am damn good at being strong, being the strong one. With her, I always have to be the strong one. I felt like a rock star after I left, powerful like I could do anything. That is a dangerous state to be in, because I will crash, but before I crash I will be convinced that I can actually "do it", and maybe I am strong enough now to "do it" and I am vulnerable to ignoring everything that I've discovered about and for myself and revert to old patterns. My own feelings are there, the truth is there inside of me, held at bay so I can be super strong for this woman.

The good news is that the part of my brain that has learned new patterns of self-care know that I need a day to myself today, and know it well enough and strongly enough that it doesn't need a lot of convincing, it's a deep enough groove to just be the way it is now. It's become normal. It's resilient against the old patterns.

This morning I can feel the adrenaline still in my body, but fading.

The feelings just rose up with that last sentence. Sweet release of pain and grief. I am more with myself, now. Softer.

I need this day, this delicious day for Me. I am sorry for her possibly being without visitors today, and I need this day.

It doesn't feel "okay" or settled. And that's okay, too. It doesn't have to. I will let it be unsettled, messy, not-perfect.

It hurts.

Now I feel hungry.