Giveaway ends September 29, 2015.
See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.
Giveaway ends September 29, 2015.
See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.
I like to collect quotes that at a particular time provoked contemplation or simply made me smile. Some passages have made enough of an impact to have changed my life. For example, to be gentler on myself or perhaps the words encouraged me to move forward with a dream I had been pushing to the wayside. One quote I found particularly relevant was the following.
“We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” Joseph Campbell
These words written together as one thought caused me to stop and reflect. I am definitely a planner. I sometimes plan out intricate details months in advance. On Sunday evenings I look at my calendar and plan the following week. I put to memory what I am doing. I look up how to drive to the school I will be working at on a given day. If I’m not teaching then I set up in my mind’s datebook when I will write, clean, do laundry or run errands. When it comes to running errands, I don’t just hop into my car. I plan a route that will eliminate crossing traffic and cut down on driving distance. I rarely go to the grocery without a list, which consists of an inventory of what I am having for meals that week and the ingredients I need. I plan because it is a comfort to me to know ahead of time what I need or want to do each day.
As I search back through my memory of myself. I try to recall, was I always a planner? In college I never pulled an all-nighter. I often had projects done a day or two before they were due. I understood even then, I did not work well under pressure. I jokingly tell others that when my now husband asked me to move to New York from Florida, not to marry, but so that we could be closer to each other, I packed my lime green Jetta and drove. The real truth is I recall agonizing over the decision. Eventually, my older sister who I was living with at the time, said; “just go, you are young, and have nothing tying you here.” With no true plan, I left, a huge leap for me.
Recently, as I cared for my mother I gradually began to accept the idea of Joseph Campbell’s quote. When Mom came to live with me and my family I was at a turning point in my life. My two daughters were either in college or heading there. My husband and I were soon to be empty nesters. I had many proposals for myself running through my mind. I had great ideas for finding my midlife career. None of these mind diagrams included being the caretaker, then guardian and eventually hand holder of my mother as she slid into dementia.
Certainly, I knew that taking my mother into my life was the right thing to do. Soon afterwards my frustration blossomed inside of me as I fought against the reality of my life and what I had envisioned. At times I resented my mother then, I chastised myself for feeling that way. My aggravation at not achieving my perceived goals grew. I would push myself down the path I thought was my destiny, only to be waylaid with the more insistent care of my mother. One day I stumbled onto the aforementioned quote. It was a slow process of comprehension, like a flower slowly blooming until the vivid colors demand your attention. That led to a recollection of words of what another sister often repeated; “If what you are trying to do keeps getting blocked with obstacles, then maybe your guardian angel is trying to tell you to go another way.” I realized it was time to let go of the life designs I felt I wanted or were required by me to accomplish. Instead, I unhurried my pace. I slowed my thoughts and my relentless running towards an objective that was frustrating me. I listened to the very subtle guidance from what I consider to be a higher being. I watched for signs, sometimes confusing in their very nature, but a sign never-the–less.
Over the course of a book club meeting someone mentioned a new writing class that was to begin soon. I heard, but felt I couldn’t take the time. While reading the newspaper there again was the suggestion of this writing class. Finally, because most signs need to be very obvious to me, a friend sent an email with the subject line, thought you might be interested in this. Why she thought that I’m not sure. At least this time I took the hint and signed up for the class. That small gesture has led me to follow this new life course of writing. Something I purely enjoy.
More opportunities opened up once I let go of my preconceived destinations. Several years before, at the persuasion of a friend, I had applied for a position as a teacher for The Traveling Children’s Museum. Nothing came of it and as I became more involved with the care of my mother the idea was swept from my mind. When my life slowed somewhat from the attention I needed to give to Mom, completely out of nowhere I received a phone call from the Museum. Now my friend was in the position to hire and she had found my long ago resume buried under stacks of the previous administrators papers. “Was I still interested in the job?” I laughed, “Of course.” Because I had waited and not pushed to reach a goal when the goal was unachievable my reward was great. I love my job and now have the time to commit to it.
I certainly don’t want to lead you to believe I think life comes to those who wait. No, in my interpretation of Joseph Campbell’s thought I don’t believe he meant for us to do nothing and expect our lives to materialize in front of us. I do think his intention was to allow yourself to open up to opportunities that come your way. Even if those possibilities have nothing to do with the course you have chosen to walk down.
As a planner I have struggled to let go of my big ideas for my future. Now, it seems I don’t even remember exactly what they were. I do know because I allowed myself to find the life that was waiting for me instead of the one I planned, I am happy and look forward to allowing more doors to open.
Recently, I went on a road trip with two lady friends. A long weekend spent being a groupie for the band, Trial By Fire. My friend’s son, and a young man I have known since he was a baby, is a member. We had a great time, but quickly realized staying up until the early hours of the morningwas tough work. We were no longer the college students partying away our stress over upcoming finals. Instead, we were three older woman escaping the confines of our daily lives. Our getaway was a needed escape from being the caregiver for a very ill spouse and the sudden, unexpected, responsibility of a mother and nephew. I was the one that had no true commitments. In February I had passed the one year anniversary of my dementia bound mother’s death, and with that, a release to determine what I want to do with the rest of my life.
We three adventurers set out on a journey deemed, Moms Gone Wild. But, how wild can you get in a mini-van? The first night earplugs were distributed so that we could all attempt a good night’s sleep. On Friday we awoke and piled back into our vehicle for a six hour drive. We arrived in Greensboro, North Carolina in time to have a beer while the band set up and did a sound check. I got a thrill of boastful pride when we told the bartender we were related to one of the musicians. That night at the show, with the music thrumming in our chests and the crowd clapping and screaming encouragement to the rock group, we decided to celebrate with a jello-shot. We couldn’t resist as the somewhat solidified alcohol came in a huge syringe. I’ve been in bars before where a band was playing. But, this was different. I delighted in watching the crowd watch our favorite band member. I pondered on how it must feel to be on stage and realize I was bringing such fun to the crowd. What a rush it must be. The night finally ended, for us at least, as we made our way to our beds around 2 a.m. On Saturday afternoon, after two more hours of driving we landed in Charlotte, North Carolina and began the whole process again.
Along the journey, of our weekend away, the three of us shared many thoughts. We reflected on the circumstances of our lives. It never occurred to any of us to complain about what life had thrown our way. Instead, we accepted the obligations and knew we would not do anything differently. Still, that does not mean we did not question what the future would hold and how that now would be so different from what we had envisioned. Yet, we understood we are not unlike so many of our generation, taking on the care of aging parents just when we were ready to enjoy empty nest adventures with our spouse. Or perhaps, as my one friend, realizing those golden years will never come for her and her husband.
That is why this weekend away was just what the doctor would have ordered if prescriptions can be written for such an excursion. A few days in which we came close to reliving our youth; the one that seemed so burdened at the time and, as we have come to understand, no where near that complicated. During the weekend the three of us spent the days enjoying the warmth of the southern sun and hanging in bars with the band at night.
But real life rushed in and on Monday we made the grueling 15 hour endurance test back to our homes. I awoke Tuesday feeling disoriented and exhausted, only to look out the window to an inch of snow on the ground. Welcome back to reality.
I have been working on editing my upcoming book, A Slow Slide into Nothing. Below is an excerpt about an experience Mom and I had together.
Finally, the day arrived for Mom and me to sit before a judge and for her to explain her concerns. The small judge’s chamber was filled with lawyers. There was my lawyer, Mom’s lawyer, the lawyer appointed as her guardian by the courts, the judge and the court recorder. I was nervous because Mom had been running late when I arrived to pick her up and then was too tired to dress herself. I ended up having to put her socks and shoes on her. I had felt rushed, knowing it was my responsibility to get us both before the judge on time. We sat down; the judge looked at both of us solemnly.
In a few short hours, it became apparent that Mom was far worse than I had thought. When she had mentioned on the phone she couldn’t pack her suitcase I assumed, it was not that she couldn’t but that she didn’t want to. I quickly realized she didn’t have the stamina, or the power to decide what to pack. Our past phone conversations raced through my mind, and I concluded she must have been lying to me about her lifestyle. I attributed her condition to depression about my father’s death and her forced retirement after losing her re-election as city court judge. Instead of haunting familiar places and reminiscing, I spent four days visiting Mom’s doctors, getting her car in working order, throwing out rancid food and packing. Mom sat on her bed and weakly told me which clothing she might want to pack. Most of her clothes were not clean, so I stuffed them in a suitcase knowing I would need to do laundry once we returned to my house. Just going through her medication was over-whelming. There were many duplicate prescriptions, some unopened bottles; others were empty with no replacement for them. I was frustrated trying to decide what prescriptions Mom actually needed to take and why.
It seems lately that everyone who twitters has their own nation of followers. Ryan Lochte, the USA Olympic swimmer calls his followers, the Lochte Nation. Appropriate. I follow several Purdue affiliates, and I suppose I am a member of the Purdue Nation. In fact I like that idea.
Recently, it occurred to me we need the Caregivers Nation. If you are a parent then you are a Caregiver. But, talking with woman my age, those of us with aging parents, I find we are more than just caregivers to our children. We have become the caregivers for our parents. It seems almost daily someone I know brings up the fact that they are finding themselves having to do more for their parents.
I can certainly relate to this dilemma. I recently lost my mother to dementia. But I spent six years prior to that taking on increasing responsibilities for her as her condition declined. When I hear someone talking about their parents, with that desperate tone to their voice, I feel compelled to help. Perhaps it is just to listen to them vent their frustrations. Maybe I can give some advice based on my past experience. Mostly, I want to tell them, this frustrating time will pass. Take the time now to enjoy what you can about your parent. Find things you can do together. Share their laughter. You will find it difficult to step up to the parental role for your parent and they will struggle to let you become their caregiver. Consequently, bring in as much help as you can. Be patient, your parent is frustrated and scared, just like you. Some days will seem to stretch on forever. Some days you will think, I can’t sit with my parent one more day and struggle to find something to discuss. On those days just be there, hold their hand. You can not be all things, but you can be their companion, their rock to hold on to as they flounder into the sea of dementia.
My mother gave many gifts as she fell to dementia. One was to look me directly in the eye and tell me she loved me. Something she had not really done before. It happened on one of those frustrating days when no matter what I said she just looked at me blankly. Then from nowhere, as if she had been struggling to say this for sometime but could not figure how to do it, she turned to me and said, “I love you, Posey.” I melted.
But, before she reached the point of only sitting in her room and staring into space, I tried to find something positive for us to concentrate on, through each of Mom’s stages. In the beginning, Mom and I went to lunch. I took her to get her hair and nails done. It was difficult getting Mom out of her home and to these places. She struggled to remember how to get in and out of the car. She didn’t recall how to put on her seat belt. I found it was like trying to move around with an infant, but more difficult because I couldn’t just pick her up and carry her. Besides, I wanted to leave Mom with some dignity. When she no longer felt comfortable leaving her home, we did puzzles, and watched day time TV. With each step down in Mom’s cognitive skills she and I adjusted to what we did for enjoyment. And, in the end, when Mom sometimes did not recognize me, we sat and held hands and watched the other residents move through her home.
Consequently, yes, I feel I have a kinship with the Caregiver Nation. We know who we are and we know that it is not an easy life. And, it is a life that many of us have no choice in whether we will join. Together we will get through this stage of life and, with any luck, move into the next. Whatever that may be.
Lately, I’ve seen the number 5 everywhere. I see it in doubles or triplicate. I take this as a sign from angels. It means, according to Doreen Virtue, that the angels are signally, “A major life change is upon you.” Of course what that change is, I don’t know. But, I heed the warning It has only been in the past few years that I have begun to see and acknowledge signs given to me, from angels. Even as I put this in print, I acknowledge to myself, that sounds crazy.
But spiritually I have changed. Gradually, I have stopped attending any kind of formalized religion. An idea that was brewing inside of me for many years, until finally, I allowed myself to go through with the act. Even as I made the move, I found myself more connected with my spirituality. Yet, it wasn’t until recently that I began to notice numbers. It seemed they demanded my attention. I’m not sure how I finally came to the realization that these numbers were signs to me and not coincidence. Perhaps in a conversation with my sister, who believes in all kinds of signals. Or perhaps in the fact I kept seeing the same numbers everywhere; car license plates, the clock, billboards, receipts. It all began to be very strange. It was unnerving to wake and look at the clock and see the same numbers repeated night after night. During the day I would see those same numbers displayed on just about everything. I went to websites that explained these occurrences to me. According to the information, angels try to convey messages to us. They can do this in many ways, I just happen to see numbers. I find this ironic, since I have always struggled with math. However, perhaps angels do have a sense of humor. Eventually, I began to look up what the number combinations were supposed to mean. Each time I did this, the message seemed very relevent to what was taking place in my life. My eyebrows would raise in curiosity. The hairs on the back of my neck would stand at attention, and send a shiver down my spine.
In November of the year 2011, I began to frequently see the number combination of 555. Warning of a major life change. I wondered what this transformation would be, but I took comfort in the fact that this new direction, according to the angel message, “should not be viewed as either positive or negative, since all life change is but a natural part of life’s flow.” (Doreen Virtue) Consequently, when I received the call on January 1, 2012 that Mom was very ill, I was not shocked. I had been given the warnings. And, I felt in my soul that this was the beginning of the end. I knew Mom was ready to leave this world, though scared. And, I knew that I could no longer bear to watch her lose anymore of her dignity and mind. She literally was a shell encasing a soul that needed to escape the confines of earth. I felt she yearned to once again be the young carefree woman who laughed, danced, sang and loved. Mom somehow fought her way back through that first bout of pneumonia. Even with dementia she was a fighter. But, when she became ill again in February, it was her time. She died within 48 hours.
I cried for myself, that Mom and I had lost so many years that should have been enjoyed together. I cried for her grandchildren, they too had lost their grandmother as she slid into dementia. But, I did not cry that my mother had lost any of the life she had left on this earth, that life was nothing more than a struggle for her. She wanted to leave behind her dementia. I felt it each time she held my hand and her grip, over the years, became less. As if that represented her grip on reality and life.
Yesterday, as my youngest daughter enjoyed her last full day of freedom, before she joined the workforce, I reflected back to the signs of 5 I have been receiving again. I wondered, Is this the change that I have been warned is coming? Or is it a life change for me?
Maybe it is both. Perhaps, we both need to change and start our new lives. We laughed during the day, my husband, Kristen and I that none of us knew what we wanted to do when we grew up. I know, I am still trying to figure that out. But, I think I learned from the best, my mother. As long as her mind allowed, she never stopped learning, changing and growing. At the end of her life, the fact she could no longer learn, was her sign to leave the confines of this world.
After two days of adult beverages, rest, relaxation and laughter while we sat on a screened in porch that overlooked a lake in the Blue Ridge Mountains my sisters and I were ready to fly the nest. The three of us are doing some much-needed bonding and healing at my sister’s new vacation home. This morning we planned to take a tour of the beautiful lake. I’ve ridden on wave runners, jet skis, whatever you like to call them. But I have always been the passenger. I hesitated as my sister handed me the keys to one.
“Don’t worry, I will walk you through it. Driving is actually very easy.”
My confidence returned and to my surprise I was excited about the whole adventure. I boldly grabbed the keys, listened to the instructions and hoped on board. My sister pushed me and the wave runner into the water, I hit the start button and realized I thrilled to feel the power of the engine that was now in my control. I gave the throttle some gas, but not enough and everything rumbled to a stop. Undaunted, I pushed the start button again, felt the hum and this time gave the throttle much
more gas. The wave runner leapt from its resting spot like a deer suddenly startled and I’m sure my eyes reflected the same look. I calmed myself with the thought. Ok, you can do this, this is easy. Slowly at first, as I got to know my new mode of transportation, I began to cruise gently around. Then, as I gained more confidence, more quickly. My sisters joined me on their wave runner and we began our tour. I enjoyed the view of the different houses and the landscape but since I could not hear the explanation of what was pointed out, I grew bored. And so, I began to play. Let’s see what this baby can do and more importantly how far I want to take it. I gunned the engine and began to fly across the water, I skimmed just the surface, and suddenly knew what a Swallow must feel like as it flies over the water in search of bugs. After the tour we re-grouped. We left the confines of the quiet cove my sister’s house is on, the one we had just disrupted with noise and waves and headed into the much bigger portion of the lake. I was mesmerized by the beauty. The color of the lake on this morning was a beautiful teal. As we toured around I admired the summer green of the deciduous trees that surrounded the lake as the pranced down to the red Georgia clay of the shoreline. Further up on the hills and mountains the blue-green of the pine trees demonstrated why these mountains are called Blue Ridge. Breath taking. I looked around at the expanse of the lake, surprisingly, the lake was ours. I did not see any other boats. I gave the throttle some more gas and once again began to fly. A huge grin spread across my face, I could not contain it, even if I wanted to. Without warning a yell of “Yahoo” escaped from my lips. I sped away from my sisters to do more playing. I felt free. Then my eyes began to tear up. Was I going to cry? I let my emotions go and I listened to what they were telling me.
Think about it, it has been six years of worry. For six years every time I went away I worried about the phone call I would get saying something had happened to Mom. I worried that she would need me, and I would not be there. For six years I never went anywhere without making prior arrangements for her care. I left phone numbers and lined up help. Since our mother’s death, this was the first time in six years I had just packed my suitcase and walked out the door. I’m not saying I did not enjoy myself during those years. But, there was always that nagging responsibility and the question of the unexpected phone call. I worried when doing activities, about injury to myself. I needed to be in one piece to care for Mom.
My eyes cleared and my grin returned. Gratitude for this day and this vacation filled my spirit. I pulled on the throttle and continued gaining speed until I hit the speed of 53 miles per hour. I felt this was an appropriate speed as it is also my age on the day I realized I am in control, and no longer a passenger.
Rosemary Christle-Renaud 