It was Halloween this week. I don’t like it. I’ve never enjoyed feeling scared. I’m a big baby when it comes to any sort of horror film, and I have to think very carefully about watching any scary film that is rated for 15 year olds and above. I didn’t dress up but my ‘exhausted carer’ costume of a hoodie, unbrushed hair scraped back, and the dark circles under my eyes was adequately scary for the children that knocked on the door trick or treating on Halloween night.

This is very ironic as I live in a horror film. Albeit a very boring and mundane one, no bleeding walls here or hauntings round here, but a certain type of horror nonetheless.

Being a carer has some obvious parallels with horror films, involving all sorts of bodily fluids I have to deal with. Tears are also very common, grandma’s and my own. There is not as much screaming, although I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs most of the time. Death is also frequently thought about when you live with a 98 year old.

Most of the horror in mine and many unpaid carers’ lives is more subtle. There is the fact that every day is the same, we live the same on repeat, unless there is some medical emergency – which takes us back to the bodily fluids. Can you imagine doing the same thing every single day with no variation? No fun, no time to do what you want to do, no nothing – just constant work and caring. All the time. I can confirm it is frightful.

I gather, from the few seconds of scary films I have heard (as I quickly leave the room covering my eyes), that the characters are often terrified or constantly on edge. I know that feeling very well, not because there is an axe murderer lurking somewhere in the house, but because I don’t know what I’m doing. You don’t get trained to become an unpaid carer, you’re constantly worrying if you’re doing the right thing, and I’m especially nervous when grandma is ill and I have to administer all her complicated care by myself. Come to think of it, I could do with the axe murderer’s help- they could put down the weapon and help me sort pills or put the old lady to bed – no killing though! Not time for that nonsense here.

There can’t be much sleep in horror movies, although a lot of them seem to happen in the dark. I know that feeling too. Tiredness never leaves me, I can’t remember the last time I felt OK and awake. I struggle to focus and wake up tired. I feel I could sleep for a week. When I remember them, my dreams are anxiety ridden and I often wake up in a panic. Even dreamland is not a pleasant place for me.

The other kind of tiredness is worse, my soul is tired and empty. I have nothing left to give so I run on empty day in, day out. My thoughts are the scariest of all. They are dark, desperate, fearful, and sometimes all consuming. Luckily, grandma is the (mostly accidental) provider of comic relief. This week, she came back from her unnecessary Tuesday shopping trip with her paid carer with a very large bag of sweets ‘because children might come round.’ When I said the bag was big enough to share with all the kids in Rochdale, she smiled and said: ‘ Well, more for me then!’

To end on a lighter note, the title for this blog was inspired by one of my friend’s mum who, when asked if she was doing anything special with the family for Halloween, said ‘No, everyday is Halloween in this house.’ That was about 15 years ago and that line still makes me giggle!