Lessons from a Workaholic
Why do I write so much about being in the moment, enjoying what's in front of me, blah, blah, blah? Well, Dad always taught me the importance of being in the present, relishing the moment at hand. I've read tons of books, practiced much meditation, been on yoga retreats, yada yada. I get it. At least I thought I did - I had the head knowledge, not the heart knowledge.
I finally get it. Witnessing dementia on a personal level moved the head knowledge to the heart in a blink of the eye. Watching my mom, once a financially savvy woman, now struggling to balance her checkbook; she is unable to follow complex conversations and is beginning to lose knowledge of familial relations, she is teaching me that I cannot live my life alone. The universe has always been telling me to treasure people in the moment, you never know what's going to happen.
5 of my high school classmates died within the 4 years of high school. In my 20s, I lost half a dozen friends and colleagues to AIDS. In my late 20s, a colleague and friend of mine had an aneurism at work and died a few days later. A dear family member had tongue cancer (never smoked) and died a couple years ago. My dad had throat cancer, was diagnosed beginning of May 2004, was dead 6 weeks later. And on and on.
You would think I would get it. Not just live in the moment, but be present for people. Really present. Listen, not always be the one talking. Find time to just be with someone else.
I'm actually a pretty good friend. Attentive, relatively good listener, usually give good advice, most of the time fun to hang with, sometimes self-absorbed (but who isn't? :). But I'm also a workaholic. All my friends will tell you that. I just thought I was passionate about my work. Sure, I find time to spend with folks, but I talk about work, or have to run off to work. I work 6, sometimes 7 days a week. 55-60 hours = normal work week.
And then I moved for my job, away from friends, family. And Mom got worse. Not alot, just gradual deterioration. And I worked more. And the lines on my face got deeper. And then one day, it hit me, like a ton of bricks. I'm not getting any younger, Mom's not getting any better and I walked away from my friends, my support. Yep, there's the phone and Skype, but there have become more and more times I need to be in the presence of my peeps. This Alzheimer's stuff is hard and I cannot handle it alone.
I did not expect the emotional roller coaster that accompanies Alzheimer's. What surprised me most about Mom is how her symptoms at times get dramatically worse, and then seem to taper off and then a big dip of worse. There is no rhyme nor reason for the amount of time for either worsening nor tapering off and as soon as I get comfortable with one, it changes, and fast. No amount of reading or talking with people who have experienced Alzheimer's could have prepared me for our journey. I learn by experience and I got a big dose of teaching. Life is short, love is long, live accordingly.
And as has been my experience in the past, the universe heard my need and responded - an opportunity opened up for me to be near close friends. Those who aren't afraid to sit with my pain; remind me of joy; poke fun at my seriousness; get my ass out of the house and into a long hike; have dinner, coffee and talk late into the night; and just plain love me.
Of course it's important to stay present in the moment, equally as important, if not more so, to be with those I love and love me back. Makes me a better caregiver, daughter and friend. Ready to kick some Alzheimer's butt.
Back to you Voyageur.