Aah, thank you for that, I cried whilst writing it, all the memories flooding back in. I loved morning pages just to write everything done and get it off my chest and then rip them up to banish those thoughts. Thank you again for your lovely comment and taking the time to read it 💜
Thank you for your vulnerability here. I know this will help other caregivers, especially as we don't talk about dementia enough. I cried as I read this, in the best way, reflecting on your gentlenrss to your former self. Also, I love morning pages and how powerful they are!
Kat, that art class detail. The one hand making something. I keep coming back to it.
That moment didn't happen because the family came around. It happened because you stopped running things by them.
What they did the night before the appointment wasn't panic and it wasn't ignorance. They knew exactly what a memory clinic does. Once something gets written in a chart it stops being a family matter, and that's the part they couldn't have. So they picked the one word your mum was most afraid of and dropped it on her head. Then called it concern.
What you call sneaky, I don't know, sneaky isn't the word. You were the only grown up in that room. Everyone else was still hiding behind a word they wouldn't say out loud.
Thirteen years is a long time to carry that room.
Also the morning pages you tear up. Same shape as the art classes nobody knew about. Done where no one could vote on it. Anyway.
Thank you Vance, yeah, it was amazing what mum could produce with just one working hand. Your words made me reflect on that experience, you're right it wasn't ignorance, but it was particularly cruel on mum.
Thank you for your kind words and the morning pages exactly that no one would ever read my deepest thoughts at that time as I destroyed them and let them. Thank you again for taking the time to read it 💜
"He's so lucky to have you." That's the response I received when I told my husband's family of his Alzheimer's diagnosis. That's it. Never another word, visit, offer of a respite visit. After so many years of going it alone - and the raw fear of what it was doing to him, to me - I finally accepted that it's easier to offer "thoughts and prayers" and feel like that is support.
For as long as he could, my husband I spent each day doing something that was "out of the safe zone". It was up to me to provide his care and support, and I was terrified most of the time. It felt like I was making life and death decisions every day. I'd do it again, in a heartbeat. You did the right thing Khadra, and thank you for sharing this, Victoria.
Thank you Vicki, I did the same, seeing family vanish from your life is really hard to deal with, but you're so be right letting it go, accepting that it's easier to offer thoughts and prayers was definitely the best option for your own sanity. I'm so glad you were so brave to go out and do things that feel scary. You sound amazing, I'm sending you much love 💜
I hear you, Vicki. I feel the same. We do what we can. In these moments, we're the only ones there to make a decision, scary and daunting. You did the right thing too, Vicki. xo
Caregiving taught me that not everyone will give up time or money or personal wishes to help. It's a hard lesson that you are truly alone in wanting to give those glimpses of happiness and normality to the person you are taking care of. My siblings wanted to keep my father at home and "safe" instead of allowing him to keep experiencing all that he could. He was mentally sharp and only had a few physical limitations but they thought he needed to stop going to see friends and family. My daughter and I took him on a wonderful week long trip to visit family, see childhood places, visit family graves, revisit favorite activities and explore new ones. It was a marvelous time. Each weekend we tried to go somewhere even if it was just a drive. At his funeral several of his friends told me that I had made his last three years after my Mother died worthwhile and happy. Others saw what I knew. He needed to keep living, not just exist. I have never regretted those three years.
Edie, I'm so glad you gave your father that life of experience not existing, and your daughter was part of it makes it even more memorable. Being the person to step up takes courage and strength, what an example to your daughter and what a gift for your father to not only expect but get the things he needed to love fully. Thank you for reading my post, I do really appreciate it 💜
That's beautiful, Edie. I hear you, "safe" can mean "easier and more comfortable for others". Love and care can't be about wrapping them up in cotton wool and preventing them from doing anything; it can even be counterproductive to their health.
Enabling your father's wishes, in the same way as Kat described, despite others', can be difficult. You and your daughter gave him the quality time he wanted, and in turn, you curated beautiful memories together. Bravo! ❤️ Thank you for reading and sharing. xo
Thank you. I needed this tonight "You’re wondering whether you pushed too hard, whether you should have handled it differently, and whether being right was worth what it cost. You’re replaying it, trying to work out if there was a way to protect her from the fear she felt that day."
The rapid-fire questions and answers are so helpful. Well done, women.
Aah, thank you for that, I cried whilst writing it, all the memories flooding back in. I loved morning pages just to write everything done and get it off my chest and then rip them up to banish those thoughts. Thank you again for your lovely comment and taking the time to read it 💜
Thank you for your vulnerability here. I know this will help other caregivers, especially as we don't talk about dementia enough. I cried as I read this, in the best way, reflecting on your gentlenrss to your former self. Also, I love morning pages and how powerful they are!
Kat, that art class detail. The one hand making something. I keep coming back to it.
That moment didn't happen because the family came around. It happened because you stopped running things by them.
What they did the night before the appointment wasn't panic and it wasn't ignorance. They knew exactly what a memory clinic does. Once something gets written in a chart it stops being a family matter, and that's the part they couldn't have. So they picked the one word your mum was most afraid of and dropped it on her head. Then called it concern.
What you call sneaky, I don't know, sneaky isn't the word. You were the only grown up in that room. Everyone else was still hiding behind a word they wouldn't say out loud.
Thirteen years is a long time to carry that room.
Also the morning pages you tear up. Same shape as the art classes nobody knew about. Done where no one could vote on it. Anyway.
Thank you Vance, yeah, it was amazing what mum could produce with just one working hand. Your words made me reflect on that experience, you're right it wasn't ignorance, but it was particularly cruel on mum.
Thank you for your kind words and the morning pages exactly that no one would ever read my deepest thoughts at that time as I destroyed them and let them. Thank you again for taking the time to read it 💜
"He's so lucky to have you." That's the response I received when I told my husband's family of his Alzheimer's diagnosis. That's it. Never another word, visit, offer of a respite visit. After so many years of going it alone - and the raw fear of what it was doing to him, to me - I finally accepted that it's easier to offer "thoughts and prayers" and feel like that is support.
For as long as he could, my husband I spent each day doing something that was "out of the safe zone". It was up to me to provide his care and support, and I was terrified most of the time. It felt like I was making life and death decisions every day. I'd do it again, in a heartbeat. You did the right thing Khadra, and thank you for sharing this, Victoria.
Thank you Vicki, I did the same, seeing family vanish from your life is really hard to deal with, but you're so be right letting it go, accepting that it's easier to offer thoughts and prayers was definitely the best option for your own sanity. I'm so glad you were so brave to go out and do things that feel scary. You sound amazing, I'm sending you much love 💜
I hear you, Vicki. I feel the same. We do what we can. In these moments, we're the only ones there to make a decision, scary and daunting. You did the right thing too, Vicki. xo
Finding this out in real time!
That was the moment you realised that family support was conditional. That when it came down to doing the hard stuff, you’d be alone.
Thank you Brittany, it's awful how some family members reacted, but on the other side there were 2 who my stalwarts against that pressure 💜
Caregiving taught me that not everyone will give up time or money or personal wishes to help. It's a hard lesson that you are truly alone in wanting to give those glimpses of happiness and normality to the person you are taking care of. My siblings wanted to keep my father at home and "safe" instead of allowing him to keep experiencing all that he could. He was mentally sharp and only had a few physical limitations but they thought he needed to stop going to see friends and family. My daughter and I took him on a wonderful week long trip to visit family, see childhood places, visit family graves, revisit favorite activities and explore new ones. It was a marvelous time. Each weekend we tried to go somewhere even if it was just a drive. At his funeral several of his friends told me that I had made his last three years after my Mother died worthwhile and happy. Others saw what I knew. He needed to keep living, not just exist. I have never regretted those three years.
Edie, I'm so glad you gave your father that life of experience not existing, and your daughter was part of it makes it even more memorable. Being the person to step up takes courage and strength, what an example to your daughter and what a gift for your father to not only expect but get the things he needed to love fully. Thank you for reading my post, I do really appreciate it 💜
That's beautiful, Edie. I hear you, "safe" can mean "easier and more comfortable for others". Love and care can't be about wrapping them up in cotton wool and preventing them from doing anything; it can even be counterproductive to their health.
Enabling your father's wishes, in the same way as Kat described, despite others', can be difficult. You and your daughter gave him the quality time he wanted, and in turn, you curated beautiful memories together. Bravo! ❤️ Thank you for reading and sharing. xo
Thank you. I needed this tonight "You’re wondering whether you pushed too hard, whether you should have handled it differently, and whether being right was worth what it cost. You’re replaying it, trying to work out if there was a way to protect her from the fear she felt that day."
The rapid-fire questions and answers are so helpful. Well done, women.
It's hard isn't it, being put you in that position, not having that support you'd assume to be there ☹️
Thank you, dear Prajna.