I can’t pinpoint precisely the day when everything with my mother had shifted. There’s no specific day when I can say that’s when I lost my mother. Maybe I can consider the day she was diagnosed with dementia the day when not only her life went upside down but our lives, too. When everything was confirmed; she’s got Alzheimer and there’s no cure for it. When medications were prescribed to her. When she lost a lot of weight. When she kept asking me to take her home while she was home with me.

Before my mother’s diagnosis, my siblings were in denial about my mother’s condition. I could see how my mother changed slowly into a different version of herself since I used to work from home so it was me who spent most of the time with her. No matter how often I talked about it or how much clashes between my mother and me escalated, nobody listened.

The situation became unbearable so I decided to leave the house. Since I have never been able to be financially independent, I started volunteering in exchange for accommodation and food using one of these volunteering sites. I travelled around Egypt, gaining new experiences, getting to know new people and escaping the unusual, increasing confrontations with my mother simultaneously.

During my time away from home, my brother was the only one with my mother at home. He could finally experience what I had experienced and understand what I was talking him through earlier. When I came back, he asked me to book an appointment with a neurologist. My mother was diagnosed in August 2022 after a long road I had to walk which made me unstable emotionally and mentally.

In September 2022, I made a trip abroad following the first one who gave me a little of tender loving care. I came back home by the beginning of February 2023. The first thing I noticed about my mother was how much weight she lost. She hugged me which was unusual. My relationship with my mother wasn’t that intimate and cuddles weren’t part of it.

For over four months, I took care of my mother. She was losing possession of her faculties bit by bit. She kept asking me to take her home. My technique was to distract her by walking her out, hoping she would forget her request. As soon as we were back home, she would ask me the same again. I used to cry while walking on the streets. People would look at me as though I was crazy.

Those months destroyed the little bit of what was holding me sanely from breaking down mentally and emotionally. Looking back at the circumstances I’ve been through, I don't regret not seeking help because help was never there. I live in a country where the kind of therapy that caregivers and depressed people need is not provided. I regret not giving myself time to take in what was going on in my life. I regret I didn't learn I should have never got into relationships until I understood myself, my needs and my weak points so no one would take advantage of me and my vulnerability.

To be continued.