Toilet paper patience…
For the 20th time today I have told Martha to put the toilet paper back in the bathroom. I go to use the bathroom and there is no toilet paper, I walk past the bathroom and there is no toilet paper. Martha has it stacked in her wardrobe like a prize.
At 7pm I have no more patience left for this silly game.
I begin trying to get an answer, this is not the first time I have done this today but the first time today I have done it with such angst and need for an answer. I try to reason with her, explaining why taking the toilet paper out of the bathroom is not good. I ask questions like “how would you feel if you went to the toilet and there was no toilet paper?” The response is “mmmm” and it fuels my anger.
I want to yell, WHY CAN’T YOU JUST SPEAK TO ME! WHY CAN’T YOU JUST TELL ME!
I can feel myself breaking. This is too hard. Right now it feels too hard.
I force her to put the toilet paper back. It is a waste of my energy because as soon as she leaves my sight she will go and take it and hide it again. I attempt to explain one last night why she shouldn’t take the toilet paper.
I want to lash out. I want to cry. I want to leave.
I lie down on my bed and open my laptop, my saving grace.
Today I resisted alzheimers and it has been cruel. Tomorrow I will let the magic in.
“If you resist it, it’ll be cruel to you, if you let it in, it’ll be magic!”