For those of you who were unaware (which of course is just about everyone) I've been a caregiver for my mother for the past year. She has mobility issues and memory issues but for the most part, it seemed to be under control.

There's an experiment where if you increase the volume of a radio slowly enough, people will start shouting over it to be heard without commenting on the volume of said radio...

Yeah, that was me.

Turn out Mom's been getting worse the past few months which she (somehow) managed to get past both me AND my sister. Sis has an excuse because, well, she lives a little under an hour away from home. Me? I'm Mom's live-in caregiver. What's my fucking excuse?

Note: I've been told reliably at work that this is a thing; one is too close to the problem to see how bad it is, and plus you'd be amazed at how someone with dementia can hide it. Doesn't make me feel any better though. Plus, I have my own mental issues to consider (Bipolar with an ADHD chaser - fun!)

Anyways I've been going to work, coming home to make sure Mom eats and do any errands that need doing, and by the time it hits around 8, I'm stressed out and wiped. Some of my favorite artists have stopped producing art because of this AI thing, and the shittiest person alive got to be President because the person running against him wasn't seasoned enough to do so. (I'm sorry my fellow liberals but when your candidate loses THAT badly, serious mistakes were made). And there are days where humor is in VERY short supply and I thank god for my conure Duncan and feather therapy.

These days, I'm taking a more active role in my mental health; I'm on Headspace, taking up meditation, and trying not to indulge (too much) in destructive behaviors. I'm working towards being able to write again and am committing towards posting some thing that I commissioned.

Just...please be patient with me.