As a writer/editor/blogger, words mean everything to yours truly. Sometimes I can spend a short lifetime finding just the right one to represent just the right mood, emotion, sentiment trait, characteristic, and/or detail.
This post revolves around one word—no more need be provided. It’s the “d” word, which I will get to shortly.
Every now and again I like to get “personal” . . . share a little about my life as opposed to focusing on the world of writing/editing and blogging . . . to be transparent.
As you know, my writing/editing/blogging is rather limited due to two full-time jobs: the 9-5 work world (which is more like 5 a.m. to 6 p.m. nowadays) and mom-care. Both can prove challenging, but the latter has become increasingly more demanding.
Folks keep saying, take each day as it comes, don’t think of the future, or you’ll burn out. News flash: this caregiver is burned out. Majorly. With no support in place, I’m on overload 24/7. Now, it’s not just administering many meds, making meals, helping with chronic pains and aches, tucking Mom in at night, and seeing all is good/comfortable . . . it’s dealing with that frightful, fearsome “d” word . . .
My mother has officially embraced it. And I’m more sad/depressed/weary than ever. She has had short-term memory issues for some time but, other than having to repeat things 3-5 times (which can be annoying but is certainly manageable), the confusion factor has entered the equation. Big time. In the span of a blink.
Dementia has always terrified me. Maybe it’s an irrational fear, but it’s also a very real one. In terms of my mom, long-term care is the eventual option . . . eventual because the virus has made it impossible for LTC establishments to take in any new residents. Given what is transpiring with the vaccine, it may be some time before they open their doors again and, when they do, it will be to those many people already on the long, long lists.
I’ve done all I can . . . given 15+ years of my own life to support a woman who has pretty much always been centered on herself. But that’s okay; she is who she is, as I am who I am. And it doesn’t change what is transpiring . . . and what must, in due course, come about.
There’s something cathartic about sharing this openly, to purge; unlike complaining, it’s constructive. For those of you in similar situations, hang in. Find organizations that can assist or provide guidance. Locate support groups. Vent to a friend, in the mirror, in a notebook or on the laptop when it’s proving too much. Release the anguish, resentment, woe. For the interim, yes, it may seem [very] overwhelming, but things do—in time—change. And for the better. Keep the faith, always.
There’ll always be another challenge, another test. Believe in yourself and know that you are capable of enduring anything and everything that comes your way. Share (unburden) when you feel the need, and [always] stand tall.
The last two paragraphs were for you as much as me . . . I was reminding myself, and advising you, of “to-dos” and “remembers”.
So here’s one more “d” word . . . d-r-e-a-m.
Dream of all the good things that are to come. They’re there, in the distance, bright as the light at the end of that proverbial tunnel.
Take care, stay well, and God bless.