So, after almost two weeks of being a carer for 12 hours a day, I'm pretty used to guilt tripping, but today the sheltered housing people told me I am not doing enough.
They want me to access NHS end of life funding so they get more money. They could just fucking say that - I'm good with that.
"I know - I'm there twelve hours a day" I said. "I sacrificed my business, my job, my salary and my family life to be here and take the pressure off".
Yup, my mum is barely eating. Yup, barely drinking. Yup, rarely getting out of bed. Yup, needs help with the toilet. And you have limited staff, which is why I am there almost twelve hours a day.
Guilt tripping me about how I'm just not doing ENOUGH probably works, but it makes me feel like shit. And I notice they rang me, rather than my wife, who has been asking for more information on what extra support we can access.
That was a choice.
I get it. Some people use weaponised grief and guilt to get what they want. Usually money. I get that my mental resilience is a resource you can fuck with. For money.
Maybe sometimes that's what you need to do. To get the fucking money.
But I lived with my mum for the first eighteen years of my life. So there's nothing you can teach me about guilt tripping I don't already know. And I got pretty good at redirecting guilt into anger.