Day Four – What a Difference a Day Makes

My c-PTSD is still off the scale but what a difference a day makes!

I woke Mum with a Charlotte’s Web CBD gummy (lemon and lime flavour), which she loved and am thrilled to say that ever since she has been extremely chilled. I know that everything can change in a moment with dementia sufferers BUT right now, Mum is wrapped up like a prawn on the sofa next to me and is dozing after eating a massive healthy (low carb) breakfast.

This time yesterday, Mum was agitated, rude, aggressive and unpleasant. Not so much today.

I also want to share this comment from a message I received from a woman I have never met in person but with whom I have commiserated and offered support on the Facebook group ‘The People’s Care Watchdog.’

After sharing my distress on the group yesterday, this lady sent me a private message with this comment, “Sorry to hear about your situation. I really do know how you feel. I thought I was in a nightmare. It’s as hard leaving them in care homes…Unless it’s anyone you trust.” Hopefully, if she sees this she won’t mind me sharing her words but it struck me with the comment ‘It’s as hard leaving them in care homes,” that that is what we are all feeling.

Even if we hadn’t started out with PTSD, this journey triggers the condition in us because we have no idea what is going on behind closed doors, with our loved ones and trust, for the most part, has been eroded by the things we can see out in the open.

This is not a journey for the feint-hearted, nor is it a journey we have chosen. Even if we choose not to be there for our loved ones, we still have to carry the weight of that decision forever more.

I will update further with details of how today pans out.

So, here’s the update that I had a feeling I would need to post. Mum has dozed for most of the day; which I suspect is the result of the calming CBD.

Now the effects have worn off, she is having a meltdown and being very angry and verbally aggressive. It’s difficult to witness and be on the receiving end of. I want to calm her, help her – but I cannot. Her brain is shrinking and a great deal of understanding and logic is impossible. It triggers my PTSD to see her panicking, knowing that I am unable to fix it. Loving her and letting her know that she is loved doesn’t seem to make a difference. If my brain was shrinking, I’m not sure that someone loving me would make a difference when the world around me was rapidly becoming impossible to understand, I was filled with terror and freefalling into a lonely abyss of terror.


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