I didn't make any plans at all. I just wanted to have a quiet, reflective day. I wasn't sure what to expect so I just left myself open. I figured if it was a hard day and I needed to melt down a little then so be it. I earned it and he was so worth it! I was very aware of the entire day as the hours progressed. It was not as hard as I thought it might be. It seems like the most difficult times just kinda sneak up on me when I least expect them. Since I left myself open to whatever that day...it wasn't terrible. More of honoring the memories of him that last day...not avoiding them.
Happy Easter to all if you celebrate it. I went to my son's house and ate breakfast and we went to Mass. Got home and was invited to go to my daughter in law's parents' house for dinner but declined. Just needed quiet time. I chatted with my friend on Face time for a bit and am just chilling. I went for a walk. The temperature is in the 70s and lovely. Still trying to figure out my new identify other than wife and caregiver. A fellow dementia wife (husband has not passed yet) met me at church and wants to see a show. It is the one that is the reprise of the Big Fat Greek Wedding with all the same characters. The first one was really funny so think this one will be also. Need some funny in my life. I told her to call me when she wants to go. Small steps for me. I still find that I seem to need a LOT of alone and quiet time.
My best friend is quite a bright person. We've known each other since our early twenties. He became the VP of sales and marketing for a company in Cleveland and after being there just 18 months and doing great things - he was passed over for a position he wanted and in an outrage literally blew himself up. He left business because "they weren't going to hurt him like that again". When word got out he was available, he got five unsolicited offers. I know that because I went through them with him. Instead he started a business of his own which was never going to work because he was a mover and shaker - not a chief, cook, and bottle washer. That was 23 years ago.
He's on his fifth psychiatrist and I know there is no belief in therapy - rather they are his pharmacist. He struggles to feel alright and for months at a time seems to find a neutral or even workable modality. It always comes back and dominates him though. I told him a year ago I was concerned because I was going to get better now - and then what? We have been able to share our long-term, nightmarish experiences together, you see. But mine ended and I don't expect to be dominated by it a few years from now.
In simple terms in my opinion, he can't accept what happened. I don't even care who did what. He can't accept what happened and so he is stopped. I find this fascinating because I told him he was helping me to not be like him. I told him you can't get away from yourself. I told him to throw the rearview mirror away because nobody cares except him. But I know he folds all that away because all such thoughts would remind him of what he does not want to accept.
And right there I told the real truth for the first time. He doesn't want to accept and he can't accept that he doesn't want to either - so he is well and truly stuck hoisted on his own petard as Shakespeare said in Hamlet.
...
The truth is also that I can slice up anybody through the use of sound examples from Obama through Gandhi. It doesn't mean anything and it almost never teaches anyone. While I'm rummaging through every last thing they ever did or said, I come across good things too. So it's really just me targeting someone or something by selectively choosing facts I want.
A perfect example is my nephew who turned on me. We were so close and will likely never speak again. He's gone back to Victoria now, but that whole area is peaceful and quiet now even when I go and try and shake it up. He visited Dianne in the nursing home more than everyone else combined except me. It took me until some months ago to put those facts together because I was fairly preoccupied with sticking pins in him when I had the time (there was a lineup once). The truth is he supported us more than anyone even though something set him off against me. I accept these facts together as reason to let this be.
There is also one group where I do not accept. Instead I hope to live long enough to hear when the next one dies. My sister was shocked to hear me say how glad I was that they never got their cozy little foursome once they dumped us in unison because one of them died shortly afterwards. I have no idea why humans think if you don't say the thing then it's like there is no thing even when it's obvious the elephant is in the room. Only determined people can't see through transparent walls. They get away with it because most people will avoid conflict outside their normal parameters even when it makes them partially complicit. Those previous friends are shallow and they will forget and when the next one dies they will call me because it will be important where 'we' are not - and so it will come well served and I am in no hurry.
"No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity. But I know none, and therefore am no beast." - William again, Richard III this time.
It would be lovely to say that I'm getting better because I believe again, or I love again, or that I want again. But the truth is that it is cold resolve because I had few feelings to build with when I started. I doubt I had much feeling at all. Life had spent many years teaching me that every hope I dared to want would be crushed cruelly before my eyes. The feelings I had were dominated by the truths of my life. I was a victim and little more when the disease spat the two of us out because it was done with us. My beautiful meanderings about hunting Al Zheimer in the valley of death with my plasma rifle aren't the truth. The truth is that a kind of rust of the brain got Dianne, hurt me, changed my life, and then left me shaking and quivering as any victim of long term, harsh abuse would be.
It doesn't matter how I see the nobility or the necessity of what I went through. It only matters that I absorb it and make it my past. This is a dreary thing we have much experience with and rarely speak about. A child, a teenager, high school, a first love, a job, a relationship, a union, a parent, the loss of our own parents, the loss of our youth, of our working years, we are pros at transitioning by accepting the past whether it's hard or not. We just don't speak of it much.
My easter dinner memories I posted elsewhere are the first time I went deeply into good memories about the very people I am waiting to hear from. Part of that is healing. part is letting go, part is remembering Dianne, and part is reclaiming the dark years by integrating them into my thoughts. They are integrated when I can run through them without reactions. I have numerous types of memories that cause reactions. For example some are sexual. I like some, I leave some, I allow some, and I mark some as targets I want to deal with. I do that with things I don't want to have a reaction to anymore.
I think it's right here that it all ties in. I don't avoid the conflicts with myself or the reactions they cause just as the plumber doesn't worry about the squirting pipes while the focus is on shutting off this valve. I believe I can find that valve and shut it off even when I'm getting sprayed by the fallout of remaining there. The alternative is to explain to myself that this valve now leaks because I don't like being sprayed while I fix it.
"The most fortunate people in the world are not the rich. The most fortunate people in the world are those that have someone stand by them even when it is hopeless." - me
The Alzheimer's spouse that sees the movie of everything that really happened will break down and weep Niagara Falls overcome with gratitude. Bank on it, no matter how shitty some of our days might have been. They are jettisoned away as the flotsom they are in the roaring river of that truth.
It is the victimhood's effects and the reticence of humanity that the caregiver hears silence and does not access that important fact. That would be selfish. At some point I have to shut up about this and accept the ughs sacrificing the virgin to the volcano gods as valid faith.
I gave the most meaningful sacrifice one human being can give to another. I'm not looking for medals here. I want my life. I want all of it. The years I was young, the years we were together, the dark years, and the years ahead. I don't just want it. I'm taking it.
Look into your darkest fear, in the deepest recesses, in the most horrible place and open that creaking door. And you will find me, smiling back, saying "Hi. Want a sandwich?" There is nothing to fear except fear itself and I looked for it, but it wasn't here. Perhaps because I was here. Want that sandwich?
I made it for a friend but he doesn't come here. Instead he wanders hoping to find the place he studiously avoids. It causes him pain, you see. And the thing about pain, you see, is that it was two girlfriends of Dianne who suffered the most. They didn't know each other even though they were twins because every single time they were overcome by how painful this was for them that Dianne had Alzheimer's.
I've learned a ton from Alzheimer's both bad and good. I'm strong and what looks like the easy way out has rarely been so in life. I wanted so badly to crawl into my mother's womb but she was gone too and so before Dianne died I resolved to fight to the death. Break me if you can I have no fear (or any other feelings). I hoisted grief on a petard and when I pass by, I spin it Bob, because that was one of the smartest things I did. It's my grief and I can cry if I want to.
My job is to grow new crops. Not easy because I know squat about farming. It's time to start learning how to do that instead of talking about it.
Wolf, I also have a dear friend who is "stuck". She is stuck by a cheating husband that walked away from her and their 2 children 35 years . 35 YEARS ago! And she never recovered. She raised her boys on her own...he never had contact with them again...and it was tough. It was terrible! I was there for her, I know how difficult it was. Then approx. 2 years later my first husband walked away. He was a very involved dad and stayed in town, but that too, was very hard. I was a homemaker. I had never worked. The same situation yet I resolved to not only recover but excel! I was determined to make it on my own and show that SOB just what he was missing out on. I went to nursing school and gained employment. I became a highly respected critical care nurse in our Medical center...not bragging...just speaking the truth. And, besides, it's my story....I can brag if I want to! About 3 years later my ex wanted to know if we could maybe see each other again. I literally laughed in his face! Polite? No...but I felt so validated! We maintained a cordial friendship for the sake of our children. I had become this valiant, mother tiger type person through the circumstance. Was it easy??? NO!!! It was very hard to raise 2 kiddos on my own. Did it break me? NO! It would be another 5-6 years before I met the man that rocked my world with love, respect and admiration. I am still very close to my friend to this day. It is so sad how differently we turned out. She made it too. But she remains stuck in the bitterness and loneliness that "he caused her". She will NEVER get over it or get on with it! She blames him for every negative thing in her life. I love her deeply! But, honestly, I get tired of her wallowing in the past. She can be a real downer if I allow her to be. I have so much pity in my heart for her as I know the freedom and liberation of moving on!
Wolf and Aunt B-Again thank you for your deep insights and experiences on life and grief. I think you said somewhere Wolf where Alz is harder on the caregiver than the patient. I totally agree. The disease forced me to face fears that I never knew I had and I actually survived. Now that I am single I am still plagued with a lot of fears that surface from time to time. I know the only way to handle them is to face them head on. That is difficult for me. I think when someone passes, we all look back on our lives and try to find some meaning. Tonight I have my last bereavement group and we have to share if we could say one more thing to our spouse, what would it be? I believe all things in life happen for a reason and that even tho things seem horrible like a death of a spouse or a husband that leaves a wife and children, it can be a tremendous opportunity for growth as you Aunt B have done. We always have a choice whether to embrace the change and grow to be a better person or not It is truly very sad to meet elderly people who have remained in the past with resentments and bitterness. My marriage was not made in heaven. We had a lot of problems--mostly his drinking and by the time we could have had a better relationship his health declined and 12 years of dealing with his health just about did me in. But he did give me my children and worked very hard to support us and did the best he could. He was not perfect and I certainly am not perfect but we did the best we could. I also did the best I could dealing with his illness. I look back and wonder how on earth I ever got through it and I know my situation was not nearly as bad as some. I am grateful I survived and yes I am grateful that his journey is over and he is in a better place. I am grateful for today and especially my health. I am very blessed.
Another first for me today. I actually went out and bought a new car today. It's the first major purchase I have made since Ron died. In fact , the first since several years before he died. It felt strange that this big decision was all on me. We always decided the big stuff together.
Aunt B, you lived it your way and looking back every road block was a challenge to grow. That may sound corny to some but is it ever real and listen to your will. I like how CO2 said it:
"...embrace the change and grow to be a better person..." That in a nutshell is what I want to do. Read Shelley or Kafka in the sunny window seat eating an apple maybe. Except I don't have a Shelley, a Kafka, a window seat, or an apple - otherwise, I'm all set.
Mary, what did you buy? If you don't mind my asking. Just curious. My Honda Civic is 9 years old in May, but it only has 40,000 miles/67,000 km on it. I just started getting out last summer and the truth is one of the things I'm hoping to enjoy more this summer is driving around in it. I looked at new cars as something to do because I've never given cars that much thought.
I'll tell you one thing I find. I talked about older age/the golden years being an elephant in the room. Part of what is hard for me is that I'm getting older and I'm facing it alone. Others don't want to talk about that, but they're not facing a new life right now - they're trying to keep their current one going. Part of my job I think is to learn that I need some courage for facing up to my changes and I need some courage for facing my time in life. I was never going to be very good about this because it rips the top of my skull off the way scary movies do to some people. I think it's very sensible to run away screaming.
It's at times like these where I want to keep it simple and have one great big sign on the lawn that reminds me how to approach everything. I use the sign that was in the lobby of the nursing home Dianne spent her last years in. "Plan like you're going to live forever. Live like it's your last day." Hard to argue with.
I just saw this on Facebook and thought it was appropriate for us here...
"I stopped telling myself that I am lost. I'm not. I'm on a road with no destination, I'm just driving with hope that I'll find a place that I like and I'll stay there. I'm not lost, I'm on my way."
And MaryinPa has a brand new car to drive there in...good for you!
MaryinPA, I bought a new car too. I was not really wanting or planning to but a friend of mine found a dealer who gave me a great deal and I actually did it. I was very nervous as it was the first new car I have ever bought. My other one was costing me a lot of money in repairs and I plan on this being the last new car I will buy. If I out live this one I will lease a car. Aunt B, I love the quote you found on Facebook. None of us is lost. We are all on the way and I like to add what a friend of mine shared with me. "We are all walking each other home." My last bereavement group was last night. So much pain and sadness with so many people. It gives me hope as I see people who have lost children, parents, as well as spouses. The ones who have lost spouses are experiencing much the same type of grief as I am. One girl has a child in college and is trying to run the business by herself that her and her husband had. Lots of people in a lot more stressful situations that me.
I bought a new 2015 "leftover" Ford Focus, bright red! My old one is a 2003 (16 years old) Ford Taurus with 103,000 miles. It really hasn't given me any trouble but gave me a scare a couple weeks ago. A tube from the transmission to the radiator popped off and I lost all the fluid out on the road and there I am sitting at a stop sign and couldn't move the car. Called AAA and waited an hour for someone to come. My mechanic put the tube back on and filled up the fluid and it runs fine. I decided its time. I plan to drive to NH next month and want something reliable. At the age of 79 I figure it will be the last car I will ever buy.
Nice to hear some nice news. Good luck with your new car Mary.
CO2 like your encouraging quotes.
10 months since I lost my husband. I still miss him and he is always on my mind. But, I am trying to honor him by living as he would want me to.. Finding hope and gratitude for all my blessings. So many, have more difficult circumstances.
So grateful I have children, grandchildren and friends. I still see my therapist where I can say whatever I don't want to say to others. I try to speak of my husband and enjoy the memories with others. I save my crying for my pillow or car.
A grief counselor said to those bitter that others didn't want to hear all their sad talk, "Grief is very heavy, not all can carry it."
Don't misunderstand me... Right now it's bedtime and this is one of my loneliest times.
But, tomorrow the sun will still shine and I will try to be grateful for the gift of life.
So very hard to do Elizabeth ! Must have been Soo emotionally draining. We can only do it when we are ready.
I just spent days gathering all medical bills for my taxes. Mixed in was the "his last year's story." Each medical paper brought back a heartbreaking decline. Found myself physically reacting with tension headache and stomach distress. So very glad when I finished and handed tax papers over to the accountant.
So many steps we must still take afterwards. All are painful. All remind us we have lost our love forever.
I hear you, Lorrie. Tax year 2015 was the first year without all that adding up and sorting out of medical expenses. Taxes seemed like a breeze compared to the old days. Like you, I just gather it all up and send it to the accountant in NY. It's probably his easiest file... I should be doing my own taxes, I suppose. But hey. We used him for years, and I'd just as soon have a tax professional in my corner in case anything ever does come up...like an audit.
I bought some new college notebooks (yeah...my sophisticated writing process) and put them in "his" nightstand top drawer. I keep edging around the memento box--it's like I think it's going to bite me or something. Stupid really. I know I need to sort through it one more time. There are things in there that I think I can toss--some of the funeral home propaganda, and a binder from the church about bereavement that was OK, but not helpful in the way this website is. I don't know if there's much point in keeping the funeral bills...I mean...what for? I know what it cost. And the 2014 calendars that I'm saving...again...why? Maybe I will just cut out the calendar pages where I recorded the day-to-day for the last four months...and particularly that last week. I saved copies of the blanket letters I sent to friends and family for Christmas 2013 and for July, 2014, when I updated everybody. And I printed my thread from here titled "End of the Trolley Line" where I chronicled his last days and the day he died. I just need to look at that once in a while and think about him.
Another change: I got rid of the big recliner that was his most recent "lazy chair" before he couldn't get in and out of it anymore. The problem was that the grandchildren were using it like it was playground equipment despite my dire warnings of severe consequences if they didn't stop. Slamming down the footrest was sooner or later going to injure the puppy--and that chair wasn't real comfortable for me anyway--just too big --I am five or six inches shorter than Larry was. So I had the Salvation Army truck pick it up yesterday. The guys said it was the best piece of furniture they picked up all day. So now I'm looking for a cosy, stationary chair--something that doesn't recline, swivel, rock, or anything else that could hurt the dog. I'm going to get something with an ottoman so I can put my feet up. And probably a new end table. I'm trying to buy stuff that is super-comfortable for me and Bandit (Lazy-boy makes something called a "Chair and a Half"--plenty of room for me and my dog, or for more than one kid--I would get the matching ottoman. I saw one in the store today that I liked, but they wouldn't sell me the marked down floor model...said I would have to order another one. I'm not sure I want to do that...how do you know it's going to be comfortable unless you sit in it? They were like, "Well, it would be the same chair, and you would get the mark-down." Yeah, whatever. I like to see what I'm buying.
I know exactly what you mean about changes. Your stories are similar to mine. I, too, recently gave away my husband's recliner. I couldn't sit in it and looking at it just bothered me.
I bought myself a real comfy oversized chair and matching large ottoman. I got a new round multi use table for me.
It's my comfy corner. I sit here to watch tv., eat my meals when I'm alone, read, use my iPad and more.
Funny..some things I feel I really want to change and others I can't bear to even move.
Dianne and I had a family motto. Growth and fear. I had forgotten that. They come together often was what we noticed. When we grew it never felt like that at the beginning. It was more facing the unknowns that were going to test you, not knowing what would happen. Risk taken without fear of failure is recklessness.
It feels like there may be a middle stage here for me. I feel more ready to let go of the past because I can feel and believe more that that's what it is; but, I am also only beginning to see and believe that my life must necessarily be my own to be real. That's kindergarten stuff conceptually. Everybody knows that and can say those words. Living them is what's rarer.
I believe this middle stage creeps up on people who are making their way through their own memories and thoughts about serious life events that dominated everything for a long time. In me the feelings about that are the difference between boiling water and warm water. I can't remember reacting to a memory for a long time now, but then I've actively sought them out.
Instead I feel like much of the quilt patch stitching is done and now it's more that it's becoming the comforter which all of everyone's memories are. Absolutely everyone is the director of their own movies. Part of my re-casting of myself as not a victim is taking ownership of the inescapable fact that it's me that dwells on something, it's me that blocks things off, it's me that resolves things within myself, and it's me that chooses revenge - all based on my own memories of the events I choose.
All we have to do to prove that immediately is to ring up someone we have an issue with right now and, preferably calmly, charge them with it. They won't agree. Isn't that infuriating???
The middle stage I'm talking about includes seeing things like that as a waste of time because it doesn't seem important so much as annoying anymore. For me it also includes a reluctant acceptance that those around me are not my future. That's partly because I have no children and my parents have passed. My sister and I talk regularly but we do live in different worlds and always have. I still have friends but they can never be the central part of my life.
Today, I called this middle part a cocoon stage. I'm not wrestling with what I went through anymore but I'm not discovering much new country yet. I don't feel dominated by what I've been through so much as that it's present with me. I wouldn't call it a comfortable balance but I would call it a largely accepting balance. I don't think like I used to because I don't feel like I used to and only part of that is because the nightmare actually did end.
All that is directed to the past - where I've come from. Where I'm going to, I'm not sure about anything. It's all up in the air as far as I'm concerned. I'm fine with this because I've always said I'm not doing anything while I need to heal. The difference is that I still have fears about my unkown future, but now I can also feel that I want to grow through them. I feel that I want my life and I feel that I'm free of much of what I bore.
Wolf: "You know, Dianne, you could help once in a while." Imaginary Dianne: "I'm in an urn here."
It turns out kicking your way through grief is as good a way as any. It's also great training for what's going to happen to trolls who in my movie must become informed.
Friend: "I don't think you're getting out enough." Wolf: "I think you're fat."
Bring it. You'll find me in the meadow under the tree.
I read through this twice, yesterday and today. Yes, the middle stage. I don't feel like I just want to go and eat worms anymore, and I'm in the same situation where the people around me are not my future. I don't mind this stage that much--am working on training the dog, making the house into a peaceful, uncluttered, attractive environment for myself, figuring out how to write a screenplay (good luck with that, ha-ha), and how to string together some evocative songs on the harp that I like "just because"...but there's no denying that there are huge gaps. After years of being in and out of homes and businesses on both sides of the Hudson, I miss my favorite diners, bakeries, groceries, libraries. I miss my dentist, my doctor...just being able to drive all over two counties and know millions of people, and all the short cuts to get to places...oh my goodness, the list goes on and on. And my church, of course. Just being able to pull into the parking lot at Vanderbilt Mansion and sit there looking at Hudson River views and eating a sandwich. Hopping the bus to Manhattan to see a show or a museum...or hopping on the Thruway and heading for good old Plattsburgh and Montreal. I like it here--I swear to God I do--and I'm trying. But boy, do I miss NY. And I miss my "tribe"--people who knew me for years at work, or me and Larry for years at home--where if you wanted to go for coffee or dinner or whatever, there was always somebody. It's true that we became very isolated as Larry went downhill, but I worked until the day before we drove to Ohio--so there was always somebody to have lunch with. Here, even with the neighbors very chatty and friendly these days (thank you, cute puppy), there is just no history with anybody. So my plan has to be twofold: 1) Let Bandit grow up a little so he can be boarded, allowing me to get back up to NY and have some freedom when I'm there...or take him with me and board him in NY, where I know people who can give me good recommendations; and 2) Make more of an effort to connect with new people here in OH. There is a dance April 24--maybe I should buy a new outfit and go. Maybe I should at least try golf,instead of just talking about it. The people in my writer's group mostly eat together before the meetings--maybe I should plan on going early to join in, instead of just showing up for the meeting. Well, some ideas to maybe try, anyway.
So bring it on. You'll find me in the park watching birds and squirrels while Bandit sniffs around a garbage can.
Elizabeth, I was kind of shocked by the depth of your feelings about New York. It sounds as though NY is really home to you - the old tribe, your church, your favorite diners, bakeries, groceries, libraries, your dentist, your doctor, being able to drive all over two counties and know millions of people, knowing all the short cuts, looking at Hudson river views while eating a sandwich in a parking lot, taking the bus to Manhattan or a train to Montreal.
You nursed your ailing, and much older, husband for many years and finally gave up your home in NY and your profession to move to Ohio because your daughter lived there and had promised to help with this care. Now that you are free to live wherever you want, your plan is (1) to board your dog so you can visit people and places back in NY; and (2) make more of an effort to meet people in Ohio. Maybe you are exaggerating your feelings about New York but if they are genuine, you might want to consider reassessing your situation.
Yes, I know, Myrtle. I almost edited that post and took some of that stuff off...probably would have if you had not already seen it and commented. There is nothing stopping me from getting back up to NY. quite a bit..and I will...just for now I'm getting through the "baby" stage with Puppinski here. And I am genuinely trying to think of ways to make friends in OH. I am not normally isolated like this. It does feel strange. I will definitely be going back and forth, and if Ohio still feels like the Planet Neptune and NY still feels like home...and if I don't feel like the grandchildren really need me that much (and I'm just not sure about that--stay tuned)...I can always move back. I wasn't exaggerating my feelings about the mid-Hudson valley, but it isn't an either/or situation. It's genuinely nice here, too...in a different way.
Forgive me in advance for playing devil's advocate: Is your daughter still interested in taking the better job out-of-state? What would you do if she did? What would you do if she took the job out-of-state and left the children with you?
DD seems to have dropped the idea of applying to transfer to the out-of-state job. If she did take a job in another location, I would not move there--I would either stay here or return to NY...probably NY. She would never leave the children with me. For one thing, their dad would have something to say about that--he is a very concerned and involved parent, albeit an hour and 10 minutes away...and for another thing, those kids are her life.
I am here for the kids, but do not plan to put my own life on hold for them. Even here in Ohio, I try really hard every day to make something of myself and of this still-unfamiliar new life without Larry. And there is no question that this low cost-of-living area will help me be able to afford the things I want to do a little further down the line. As long as I don't get stupid, I should be able to afford to live the way I want (simple, minimalist), with some carefully-planned travel and a pleasant day-to-day life, whether it be here or in NY.
I have no doubt that the part of Ohio where you live is genuinely nice. Most places in this country are. The problem is that it does not feel like home to you. "Home" in the sense of, “the place where, when you have to go there, They have to take you in.” (Robert Frost, The Death of the Hired Man") It sounds like you are trying your best to make it feel like home and that you're doing this for the sake of your grandchildren. Not having any grandchildren, I'm not sure how I would react in this situation.
P.S. If you're going to give Ohio a try, you should definitely go to the writers' group meeting early and join them for the meal before the meeting starts.
Forum friends, be sure to pin my ears back if I am venting, dumping, whining, and generally being a pain in the toe on this thread. My goal by coming on is to see how others are doing and try to be helpful, but on W/W I just seem to be like Moaning Myrtle in the Harry Potter movies.
After a good night's sleep, a run-around out in the cold, snowy morning with Bandit, and a cup of piping hot coffee, life does not seem so worrisome.
Elizabeth*, you are doing what all good writers do: putting our thoughts, worries, anxieties, and dreams to word. Even though I am not a W/W, I read this thread because of contributors like you. Your words help me find myself and my way on this journey.
On the subject of children, isn't it amazing how differently children turn out who are reared in the same family and environment? The DD who would boss you around a bit - you probably raised her to be strong (like the heroines in the stories you write?) - and never thought it would come back to you. I think in today's world women need to be assertive in order to be successful and it sounds like she is a modern women. But so are you. You figured this all out and how to manage it.
Finally, on the subject of moving. I yearned for years of moving back to the city where we lived for ten years. Several years ago I realized that it was an escape fantasy and I could never go back now and be happy. The world and I had moved on too much and too far. There is a quote "You can never go home again" that seemed to sum it up. Our DD just took a job here in flyover Midwest but the working conditions, lower taxes and the salary are so much better than they were on the East Coast. Because the cost of living is lower here in the corn belt, she can afford really nice vacations. It made me think of you conserving expenses for daily living so you can afford to visit your old stomping ground a couple of times a years. What is life but a series of compromises that we hope are made to the best of our advantage?
Well, I've always liked that old Jennifer Nettles song, "Who Says You Can't Go Home?"
Who says you can't go home? Who says you can't go back? I been all around the world and as a matter of fact, There's only one place left I wanna go. Who says you can't go home?
There is a good Youtube video that she does with Jon Bon Jovi--a nice, bouncy, happy song. And I really believe in two old sayings: "Home is where you hang your hat." and the other one is, "Bloom where you're planted."
Yes, I think it's been mentioned before, but the low cost of living in the Midwest can be leveraged into some really nice travel, or perhaps part-time residence in a higher cost of living area--or a nicer senior complex, or whatever.
We moved to Southeastern PA in 2007 when Ron was just showing symptoms of dementia. He couldn't find his way around the new area. I never wanted to move here anyway but now that I am here I wouldn't want to move again. He retired in 1993 and we moved to northwestern CT in '94 because his mother was getting so she needed help. After she died in 2001 we went back to NJ. After 6 years there he decided we have to move again. I didn't recognize the dementia until after we were here. I certainly can't go home! Where would home be?
I have no real friends here. I have people that I see at exercise classes, at bowling, and even at the AZ support group which I still attend. I have 1 neighbor who visits occasionally and I visit her once in a while, but it's hard to make real friends when you have nothing in common with the people around you.
Forget desperate. It's one of the four horsemen that come with this experience. It's sane and normal to feel desperate in desperate times. Start connecting.
We are here, Katherine. I don't always post, but I check the W/W thread every day. There's a lot on here about getting through the grief and re-building ourselves and our lives. It seems like things should get easier after our spouses pass away, but I think many of us find we are just dealing with a new kind of nightmare. No matter how sick they were, they were still here with us...and now they are not. Maybe while we fought tooth and nail with Al Z. Heimer, we thought there would be some relief when our spouse died--and we find it isn't a relief at all--it is more horrible than words can say to be without them.And it isn't just the loss of the person, as devastating as that is. It is also the loss of the life that we had together--all the little day to day things that are just disappearing into the past. And the scariness of facing the future alone. Someone said, and I agree, that it raises big frightening questions of who will love us, who will take care of us, who will be there for us. The scary answer seems to be that we have to take care of ourselves, with no partner, comrade, team mate...we are alone. No matter how gutsy we are, how independent, sensible, well-set-up with a dollar in our pockets (maybe)...it is super-scary. So on top of being miserably bereaved, we face a frightening future alone. This stuff is not for wimps.
But there is hope, and there is light as you go through the tunnel.
It is a gradual process of re-awakening and re-discovery, or at least, it's been that way for me. It's just going to take the time it takes...but time--Time--really does help, as the loss is more and more in the rear-view mirror, and new, nurturing, fulfilling things come into your life to help fill it up. There will be flashes of such joy and happiness, and I think you'll find that as time goes by you will look back with more smiles and fewer tears. It starts to feel so good that you had that person in your life, that you had that special relationship. I think you'll find that eventually, and after you've gone straight through the misery and not tried to evade it, that peace and joy will come back into your life.
Just relax and rest as much as possible. It might just be me, but I seemed to need to vegetate a lot. (Still do.) I spent many a weekend in leggings and Uggs, cruising the Internet or sitting on the porch and accomplishing absolutely nothing. There is no agenda--no time frame--you must just do whatever it is that nourishes and nurtures yourself. Do whatever it is that restores you...and many times I think that is just doing nothing. Don't make big changes right away, just let things settle down first. I just recently emptied his nightstand drawer to make it my own, and just recently emptied the dresser drawer that was completely filled with funeral paperwork and cards from people. So all that stuff had sat untouched for 19 months before I felt it was the right time to deal with it. (Made a memory box with the most special things in it.)
I think it's good to try new things, or try to get back to old things as you feel able, but I wouldn't push too hard. I wouldn't force anything. If you don't feel like the singles group, the bereavement support group, or whatever, I would just not bother. I know you are a nurse, as I am, but for me, the last couple of years caring for Larry at home after leaving the workforce...especially those killer last four months...were the capstone of my career as far as I'm concerned. I have no wish to go back to work, and at this point in my life am filling it with other things. I don't know if going back to work would be something you would want to do or not...but I would make sure you make yourself and your healing process the priority.
Yeah, desperation is normal, under the circumstances. I'm throwing you the knotted rope, Katherine. Here it is ------#------#------#------#------# Grab the end and hang on!
Katherinecs, Elizabeth has said it so very well. I can add nothing. I am finding the recovery comes little by little. My first 3 months I was numb, felt like a ship at sea in the dark with no sight of land. Very painful. I had left my full time job when he was diagnosed but have maintained a little part time computer job from home. It has helped me as it provides a little income and has the flexibility that I need now. I can work as much or as little as I want. I had hospice and the social worker came to my home twice in the first 6 months or so. That was very helpful because she could put words to what I was feeling.
I am in the process of transferring my nursing license to my current state. I kept it active all these years. I am considering possibly a PRN position. Maybe only 3-4 shifts/month to test the waters to see if I really want to practice again. I just feel like I am too young to not be contributing somewhere/somehow. I was always in critical care...I will not go that route again! I am thinking much less stressful. I am leaning towards Hospice or some kind of end of life care. I would have never considered that in the past but with my latest experience on my resume....I just feel drawn to help restore a little peace and dignity to the terminally ill patient population. We'll see... gotta get the license first.
I keep my NY license active, but have never bothered to get an OH license. I feel that my nursing days are done (at least in terms of a professional, paying position)--but I would feel too nervous not to be licensed somewhere. You never know. (I am 66 and 7 months.)
I've been thinking about MaryinPA's post upthread somewhere about having lived two or three places before the move to PA, and not knowing which one could be called home. After being a military member and a military spouse, and having hauled all over the place for a number of years, I truly do believe that "home" is wherever you are...wherever you hang your hat, as the saying goes. If you're in temporary quarters in the back of beyond for six weeks, you put a potted plant in the window and a flameless candle on the table, and maybe hang a cheap, cheerful poster on the wall. You make it "home." But having said that, I still think we all have our personal preferences about areas where we want to live. It isn't necessarily that we can't make a home anywhere we have to, but let's be honest...some people like Florida, some people hate Florida, some of us like the Northeast...some of us like Washington or Oregon. (I've actually done a long, temporary duty in Spokane, and travelled extensively through northern California, Oregon, and Washington State...wonderful out there...but not where I want to live permanently. But I can see why Charlotte and Art live out there.) Anyway, those are just some of my thoughts, as Alzheimers can spark some big geographical changes.
AuntB* and bluedaze*, I think your ability and willingness to nurse dying people at this point in your lives shows that you not only survived the Alz spouse experience but that you also emerged from that dark tunnel with a good part of your former selves intact. I find this quite encouraging.
Myrtle, I think we have experienced death without a lot of dignity/respect in dealing with this savage disease. I just keep wondering if I could somehow make a difference for someone else. I am still in my 50's...can't say that too much longer...so I think that is why I feel the need to get out and do something productive. With Tim's passing and also my father 3 months ago, I am of financially but just feel restless at home. I really think it would benefit me to get out and contribute in some way. I at this time I am considering a per diem position so that I could still travel when I want to. If I were in my 60's...after 50 years of nursing as some of you have done...I too would hang it up. You have done your part!
If I had cared for my husband at home I think there would have been nothing left of me. FTD is like dementia on steroids. My husband was still fairly young, strong and intelligent. Very manipulative and angry. If I had put locks on the doors he would have thrown a chair through a window. I kept my car keys with me at all times. He raged at people for hours. Our insurance agent of years dropped us as did our bank. They would no longer put up with him. It's all over now but I am still picking up the pieces.
bluedaze, FTD is the worst! So sorry to hear anyone is dealing with that! My daughter-in-law just lost her dad to that dreaded form a couple of months ago. It was just awful. I cannot even imagine having to deal with the fear for your very life. As bad as any of the dementias are....FTD is a reminder of just how much worse it could have been. Bless you!
I officially became a widow on March 24th, although in truth I have felt like a widow for the past 2 years when my DH no longer knew who I was. I am glad he is now at peace. I am now trying to figure out how I want to live this new life. having been married for 57 years since I was 21 years old. It feels quite strange.
My sincere condolences on your loss. Yes, at last they are at peace. I wish for all of us some measure of peace for having gone the course with them. We truly deserve it.
Just take your time, katlady. There is no agenda, no rules, no "shoulds" or "musts." It may be wiser not to make any sudden, big decisions for a while--everybody says that, and I think it's sensible. Focus on doing whatever is peaceful, restful,and restorative for yourself Grieving seems to soak up a lot of energy, so you may find yourself dragging around more tired than it seems you should be. At least, that was my experience. Just go with the flow.
katlady37, What I feel bad about is that you don't have a cat to help you through this sad time. Sometimes shelters need foster parents for cats - I wonder if you could foster a cat? That way you would not have permanent responsibility for it but you would still have its company for a while.