"If you can attain repose and calm, believe that you have seized happiness." – Jeanne Julie Eleonore de Lespinasse
I'm typing this during a tranquil Albuquerque morning. It's not yet 8:00 a.m., sun filters through screens into my porch, mourning doves coo and croak in the plum tree outside. Cool air and black coffee induce a peaceful calm within me.
It won't stay this way. Within the hour, my mom will call to let me know she's up and ready to go. Monday is "Mom day" in my world; when she came to live nearby, I committed to spending every Monday with her, since I'm off work that day. And Mom likes to wring every moment out of our day together, from going out to lunch to window shopping for things we don't need. To me, it's a bit exhausting, but I try to remind myself of Dad's mantra: If you agree to do something, do it cheerfully.
Frequently, though, cheer eludes me; the heat and bustle of Mondays with Mom can make me cranky. It's these quiet moments, these still, early morning minutes of solitude I steal for myself, that enable me to get through the day. I force myself not to think ahead but to meditate on this peaceful feeling, as if I'm filling a reservoir of tranquility inside me from which I can sip during the hectic day.
Soon enough, the phone will ring and our plans will be laid, and we'll plunge frantically into traffic together to get our errands run. But not now.
I remind myself to be thankful my mother can still get around on her own. That she still has her mental faculties intact (for the most part). That the dementia seems to be progressing slowly. I remind myself to be grateful that, right now, Mom and I can share real quality time together.
I remind myself of these things because I remember the way it was, a little over a year ago, when Dad suddenly and sharply declined, losing memories by the day, until he couldn't even recognize himself in a photograph. And I remember how coping unraveled from a month-to-month thing to a week-to-week thing, and finally a minute-to-minute affair. I remind myself how I couldn't keep up, emotionally; how I thought I'd never make it through Dad's dying process; how I felt the tiniest of stressors was going to send me over the edge; how I couldn't possibly cope with any of this for one more minute.
But I did.
We all do. Somehow, nearly all of us caregivers find that strength to go on – for one more month, for one more week, or for one more minute. How we do it remains a mystery. But one thing I know for sure: It requires the occasional oasis of calm to create an ocean of tranquility.
I hope today you'll be able to steal a few moments of calm and repose to help you stay centered during your stressful caregiving journey. I hope today you'll indulge in that bubble bath or take that long walk or do whatever it is that provides you with that brief window of respite that allows you to carry on. For one more minute.
Oh please, your obviously a talented writer but you should apply your talents to something people in our position can relate to. Sipping coffee by the plum tree listening to the birds coo creates a lovely vision, but nothing I can relate to I visit this website to share the reality of being a caregiver with others in my situation not a professional writer,s flowery concept of what it is or how it should be. Your writing only serve,s to feed the insecurities we all feel about how we manage our very real situations. It,s not unlike the affect the false perfection portrayed by fashion models has on teenage girls that lack the wisdom to know it,s false , unattainable and not based in reality.
There are things that you CAN do to release stress that do not cost money. They do cost you little bits of time to practice them. Check out some of the ideas on www.touchedbyjoy.com. There are many articles there and you could purchase the booklet: Self Care for Caregivers: 161 TIPS to Make Your Life Easier. You can also get a free tip a month is you register.
I am so stressed out at the moment, that I agree wholeheartedly with Lanakolo. There really aren't too many resources out there unless you've got the money, which very few of us do, so as a result we are left to juggle parents' needs, husband's, children's and our jobs. I know I feel guilty constantly that I'm not doing enough or that the job I am doing is mediocre at best.
Thank you all for the comments and support. It's great to learn when your words touch others. I hope you all know your words touch me, too. Lanakolo, I'm sorry you're going through what sounds like an ordeal. I hope you're able to find solutions to your caregiving issues and to find peace and strength within yourself to cope. I will keep you in my thoughts.
I too would like to thank you for your wise words of encouragement. I agree that there aren't always very many positive words, but I must admit that as a caregiver of a Mother with moderate/late stage, the busy mother myself to a 13 year old along with a husband of 17 years, I continue to check the blog often because it's so nice to know that there are so many others out there who are having the same overwhelming feelings that I am! I feel overworked, way underpaid, unappreciated as well as feeling guilty that I may be letting somebody down! Friends don't understand. They only know what they see in the little time that they observe my situation and let's be real...we always sugar coat it so they don't see the way that things really are. I admit that I take an hour a day for myself to exercise because that is my vice. I am a firm believer that if we don't care for ourselves physically and emotionally we won't be available to those who need and depend on us. There are alternatives to being the primary caregiver to one with dementia if you're only doing it out of a sense of obligation. Those negative feelings are sensed by your loved one and I believe that it contributes to a faster decline. You're not doing anybody any favors by caring for somebody unwillingly.
Thank you for reminding me: that things generally work out; that I don't have to have a complete plan covering all possibilities; that I don't have to do "it all" today; that liesurely baths are advisable, not sinful; that God's in this w/us.
I really appreciate finding a PLEASANT blog. It is helpful to find others that are not moaning and groaning and poor me-ing for pages on end. Thank you for giving me something encouraging to read.
How wise, to acknowledge the need for time out. Today I have sat in my office supposedly to pay bills and I have just sat here wasting time, or so I thought, your letter has made me feel better, also shown me that I must start taking some time for myself my husband has Alhiemers and I am bring up my Granddaughter 9yrs. Thank you for taking the time to put your thoughts on paper.
Elizabeth Haynes - you wrote a powerful letter, this frame of mind is something to aim for. I just wonder how many of us will be able to achive it !!! Ianakolo and also Just here - my heart goes out to you ! Ianakolo, I am 100% with you - I refuse to be a burden to my children, I had my life and they are fully entitled to have theirs. They have families of their own and it should not be interupted or be put into a situation that causes hardship for them. A big Hug to all of you !!!
Thank you for such a wonder piece of writing. It is how I used to feel when I was caring for my husband 24/7. I needed to start and end the day with peace and a list of what I was grateful for.
I did not agree to do anything but I do not have a choice and I don't know if I can do it cheerfully... The whole caregiving just fell into my lap and my live is taking a turn for the worst. I understand that we have to care for our parents when they get old, but is it right that our own lives get destroyed? I'd rather die right now than putting my own daughter thru everything I am going with my mom. I think the society should find a solution, because people live longer and longer and in the process they destroy the lives of their own children - and that is not right!
Thank you for the reminders. Living with my 92 mother with moderate dementia is like living in the calm (in compared with what could be coming) before the storm. We went through the storm with my dad about 15 years ago. I was younger then and my mom was his primary caregiver, although I was close by through it all. I savor the little moments of calm and solitude I get throughout the day. I will try to remember your dad's wise words. My husband and I agreed to this and we need to keep doing so "cheerfully".