Alzheimers and sleep deprivation

"I give you this to take with you: Nothing remains as it was. If you know this, you can begin again, with pure joy in the uprooting."

- Judith Minty, Letters to My Daughters

At about 5:30 this morning I was jarred awake by mom's call for the fourth time of the night. Feeling as if I had only just gotten back to sleep, I was very frustrated. Thankfully, I always shake it off before I reach her. I love her and am grateful to be here for her this way. When I was done tending to her and back on the couch, the frustration returned. I felt panicky like I was losing time that I needed to spend on some currently pressing needs in my life. I quickly felt bad about that because there's nothing more important in our lives than those we love. I knew the panic wasn't about time, so I looked deeper. It turns out the panic was about witnessing mom's demise. My inner brat was stomping his feet, turning red and screaming, "NO! I don't like this! I don't want to see this! La la la la la LA LA .....!"

Time was not what my gut was panicking about, painful change is the thing. As a caregiver trying to cope, I tend to overlook my emotions at times. The crushing frustration of witnessing this wretched disease slowly and steadily erode my mother. It is fucking uncomfortable and I don't want to see it. And because I know I will see it through, I've slipped a bit into some old denial traits as a means of coping. I'm grateful that my brat snapped me out of it this morning so the tears and anger could flow.

What it all comes down to, yet again, is change. Change is usually uncomfortable. Especially change you didn't initiate yourself.

I am distraught about the cruelty of Alzheimers that my mom is enduring. I love her and nothing is going to ease that pain until mom is finally free of this plane. The hardest emotions for me to allow are anger and frustration. I spent the majority of my life up until six years ago suppressing them. So, this situation is giving me a good spiritual workout as I allow them to rise freely. I know they have to. The change my mom, sister and I are enduring through this is phenomenal. The parameters are constantly shifting and often sliding sideways in mind-bending ways. Even in peaceful moments, the weight of what is happening rests on my shoulders like a giant wet dog. It's messy, heavy, and won't quit swinging it's big head around which constantly throws off my balance.

It's all yet another reminder that life is not fair. It never could be, and seeking fairness should not be the point of a life. Fairness as a priority is as ridiculous and crazy-making as the pursuit of perfection. Life is what it is. Yours is what it is. Whether the moment is joyful, mundane or excruciating, the moment is all we ever have. For me, allowing myself to feel the full spectrum of my emotions, without judging myself for them, is the key to spiritual health. I strive to be genuinely conscious of my feelings and deny nothing I feel. I let them rise, look into them and release them. To selectively suppress those I dislike would be a return to the dismal and powerless existence of grief and shame that I lived for the first 48 years of my life. And if there's one thing in my life that I can say with certainty, it's that I will never return to that wretched state of spirit.

I share all this to encourage you to listen to your heart. Your raw emotions, whether enjoyable or not, have important messages for you. Mind you, I said 'you'. I'm not condoning deflecting your feelings and uncorking on someone else when you are the one that needs to listen to what they are telling you. In all things, be brave and look at your reflection before anyone else. Process what you feel. Then, when you feel you fully understand, do with it what you decide to do. If you need to share how you're feeling, do so with someone you trust. That kind of vulnerability is a powerful means of affecting and coping with change.

Heed your gut, learn the lessons, and do your best as you keep walking.