Focal point

Truth can be very harsh.   Reality can be daunting.   Caregiving long-term brings these harsh, daunting truths to life whether you want to see them or not.

I have been a "muscle through" kind of person, a never-give-up kind of person, the glass-is-half-full kind of person, there is always a plan for the plan for the plan that might fail.  Backups for the backups, as my son talks about in the computer world.  

As I mentioned in my last post, this valley where we have been residing in the last year has been overcast, dark, and very dim.  The days pass by in a filter of hazy, structured darkness or fog; almost a negative smogginess.  It's hard to focus on anything else but trying to see clearly the next thing that crosses my path.

I know my role in this valley time:  to give loving care on any level needed, render aid and assistance at all times, think for, act for, protect, respond, adjust, be flexible, be proactive, advocate, remember everything...and the list goes on.  I'm never off "the clock."

Day after day -- the role never changes and that is where the weariness sets in and sucks the positivity and joy out of me.  Everything, every decision and action is filtered through the lens of what is best for the person dying.  One easily loses their own joy, zest for living, and life, as the memory of what life was like before becomes lost in the fog of what is and is to come.

Friends get tired of hearing of the darkness....and how small the world around me has become.  It almost seems like the mountains are moving closer together on some days:  and the valley gets narrower and narrower.  Life for others keeps moving forward....and here in the valley of the shadow of death -- time seems to slow down.  Every day is a "Groundhog Day" of taking vitals, talking with medical professionals, scheduling appointments, driving to appointments, trying to figure out if there is anything left in their magic bags of medicine to help.

A harsh reality exists when the magic bag of tricks is empty or doesn't exist anymore.

As a wife, I am torn inside my mind and heart with what I see:  the daily, excruciatingly slow, impending decline.  Life has changed for both of us.  Gone is the person that I married.  The disease robs me of that person.  He looks at me, and I am the same -- but different -- if he remembers anything about who I really am.  I look at him, and he is not the same in any way, except the color of his eyes.  

The knowledge there is nothing left to "fix" is the daily reality and what life is right now...

Each day reveals the struggle is that disease is winning....not just in him, but in me too.

I can't let it take me too.

Finding the strength to fight for my own survival when I'm already depleted is challenging, but I must fight because I know the length of the valley won't last forever.  Life will continue.  So searching for a glimmer of light each day is paramount, or I could get lost in the valley of the shadow.  

And that's what I fear the most.

The Valley

 Life doesn't always include mountain-top experiences for long.  Sometimes it seems like the valley is where you are meant to be.  

I literally have lived in a valley for the past ten years.  It's one of the most beautiful places I have lived in my life. 

I have learned that the valley can be a dry place, where the storms are buffeted by the mountains on each side and the rain doesn't reach the valley.  You can watch the storms on the other side of the mountains.

The valley can be like a long wind tunnel if the wind is coming from the right direction.

The valley can also be a fertile ground, where things grow in the low lands, green and lush, if there is a stream running through.

All my life I have heard the phrase "the valley of the shadow of death."  Being a younger version of myself with less life experiences, that phrase didn't have much impact on me.  I didn't even want to explore what that phrase might mean or look like in my life.  Who wants to think about shadows and death?

Being an older version of myself, well, now life is forcing me to explore this "valley of the shadow of death" even if I don't have my backpack, hiking shoes, and water bottle packed and ready for the journey.

The shadow of death.

As a kid, we would play with our shadows -- the afternoon sun casting our shadows on the ground; short shadows, long shadows, making shadow puppets or pretending to be the tallest when you are the shortest.  Fun shadow games.    

I've not been one to be afraid of shadows.  I'm not one to be afraid of the shadow of death, but I, myself, have not been considered to be actively dying -- other than understanding the reality that we all will leave this physical life one day.

What no one tells you is that living in this shadow of death with a loved one who has a chronic illness that is not able to be healed....is.... well, exhausting.  It takes over every thought, decision, plan, emotion.  It can numb the joy, happiness, or the good feelings in life, though it makes you grateful for those moments, however brief they are.  The reality that that shadow that reappears as soon as the sun rises again hits your awareness and wreaks havoc on your senses.

This shadow valley is one that feels impossible to escape even for a few moments, as if you were trying to climb a rocky mountain with bare feet.  Honestly, sleep is the only true escape.

It's easy to feel alone in this shadow.  It's not like the fun times of shadow puppets.  It's not like you say to your friends, Hey -- grab your backpack and let's go hiking in this dark shadow valley where there is no light at the end of the tunnel for a day.  Yeah, we might go spelunking for fun in caves, but we usually do not live in the depths of the cave.   And unless you have been in death's shadow valley yourself, it's hard to understand what it might feel like and be for another person.

It takes light to make shadows, right?  Sunlight, lamplight, whatever kind of light.  You cannot have a shadow without light.

I guess what is what I'm trying to do is live in the shadows that are covering the valley, but focus on the light as the storm is not ripping through the valley leaving rainbows behind, but hanging here.  Honestly, this is hard.  It's one of the hardest things I have done in my life.

The wind is blowing

I'm sitting in my office listening to the wind whistling and blowing through the trees outside.  Funny thing, you can only hear wind if there is resistance creating a sound:  trees, mountains, buildings, or anything standing.  We can feel the wind, but can't see it unless it has picked up particles and are blowing them around.

The winds of change are like that.  You don't see it coming.  But you sure can feel change coming or see new the new circumstance that it ushers into your life.

Today, I feel like the past couple of years has been one long windstorm.  Some days, I haven't had the energy to stand in the wind.  Some days, the wind knocked me down.  Some days I tried to stand and got buffeted and blown around like a grain of sand at the beach on windy day.  Some days, the wind's pace was a slower breeze and I could stand the pressure against me.  Rarely were there a string of peaceful, stillness.  

Ever try to fly a kite in a storm?  Kites need wind.  They need steady winds that are gentle enough to not tear the tail off the kite.  Kites don't fly in peaceful days with no breeze.

I need to remember on days that I want to soar above my circumstances, but long for days with no breeze, that kites don't fly when there is no wind.

The Surround

Saturday, October 21, 2017

3:42 PM

Today I witnessed a man surrounded by love.  There were loved ones at his head, by his side, and at his feet.  Within the warmth of those around him, he slipped from this life into the next.  There was no anger around him.  No guilt for words not said. There were no words of hurt or misunderstandings that hadn't been resolved.  There were warm memories.  There was love.  There was so much love you could feel it -- almost palpate it with your hands.  You could certainly see it in the eyes of those in The Surround.

Live life.  Live life so that you have people who surround you while you are full of life.  Live life so that there are no regrets, no words left unsaid, no anger or hurt or misunderstandings left unresolved.  Now is the time for that type of healing.  Now is the time to seize each moment with those in your tribe who will surround you some day when your time in this life is at its end.   Invite into your circle those people who will love you, hold you, challenge you, laugh with you, be with you, sing with you, walk with you, sit with you, and dance with you even though you might not dance well.    Embrace your Surround while you are able.  Be kind and gracious and loving.  Agree to disagree and love them anyway.  Get together while your dishes are undone, and your floors are unswept, and your projects are undone, and there is only PB&J in the cupboard. 

Love them.

Embrace them.

Look them in the eye and tell them how much you care and admire them and appreciate them for walking this path with you called Life.

While you have time.  While you have breath.  While you can open your eyes on this beautiful earth.  LOVE.

-in memoriam of my friend, Jim D. Pulliam

Help! I'm stuck!

All right.  You might not know this about me, but I tend to get stuck.

After living on the farm these past two years, I think I have now found every soft spot and underground spring -- and sometimes obvious marshy places -- on the farm.  And I have a propensity to get the tractor stuck as I am mowing.

I love to mow.  I have no idea why -- but I love mowing.  Hop on the tractor, rev up the engine, turn on the blades, and mindlessly go back and forth over grass that is higher than the "acceptable length" in my eyes and create the most wonderful fragrance in the outdoor world:  fresh cut grass.

Okay....as you are groaning and I am smiling, let me get to the point of my thoughts before you run out to the garage and try to start up your mower in February.

I also love to organize.  One of my winter projects was to clean out files in my file drawers.  I only have two -- so it shouldn't be a hard task, right?  I got together all my tools -- trash bag, new file folders, and organizing tabs and clips and brought out the first huge file of paper and stopped.

Viewing the contents of the file brought back old feelings, situations, and in my mind's eye, I was right back in the old place of my journey that this paper represented.  Let me tell you this:  I got stuck. 

As I was reflecting and reading the file the questions begin to roll:  To toss or not to toss?  THAT is the question!

If I hold onto something that doesn't bring joy, what good does it do me?  What good does it do my spirit and my psyche in this new part of my journey?  Let me tell you -- deciding whether or not to toss those memories was extremely hard!  I had things dating all the way back to foreverland in that file drawer!  All kinds of questions zipped through my brain.  Did tossing the negative things stored in that drawer mean they never happened?  If I kept only the good things and I died and someone else had to go through the drawer would they think I lived a "charmed" life and not get a realistic picture of my struggles?  (Yes, that was one of the things I really thought.)  What would my life look like without certain memories in that drawer? 

As hard as I could, I tried to equate cleaning out the drawer to mowing...and not getting stuck.  I didn't want to get stuck in the bad memories or things that represented mistakes or errors in my journey.  And I realized that if I learned my lesson well, I didn't need to keep a reminder of that time.  The lesson was learned.  I needed to move on and not focus back there on that time I got stuck in the spring that I KNEW was there because I had gotten stuck the last time I rounded that area of the fence line.  I just needed to remember that the underground spring was there -- and avoid getting stuck by rehashing the last time I got stuck.   I needed to recognize when the front wheels started getting wet and stop - and back up -- and go around that area.  Lesson learned.  No need to sink in that hole again. 

Did I need files of memories to not get stuck again?  Nah. 

Realizing that I could avoid getting stuck in that same old thought process, same actions, same rehashing of old times that didn't extend grace to myself or someone else was not helping me in my footing on THIS hill I am climbing; on THIS part of my journey.   So I finally did what I needed to do and cleaned it out.

I left room for new memories -- new files -- good and bad because the cleaning process is usually not a once and done project for me.  I am always finding things I should have "thrown out" but wasn't quite ready.  Now I am ready.  Ready to see the deep grooves in the mud and not go there anymore.  Ready to recognize the rut in my thinking and speech and actions.

Ready to mow, anyone?

"Raindrops keep falling on my head"......

It's raining today.  

Some days I feel like walking in the rain.  Walking in the rain can be like taking a look back at all that you have learned.  

This morning, I read through my blogs of the past three years and that's exactly what it felt like -- a walk in the rain, carrying no umbrella with raindrops "falling on my head".

My blog post on Humanness especially made me stop and ponder this morning.  This time it brought out a lesson is in a different context.  

At that time when I wrote on humanness, I was focusing on accepting my OWN humanness.  Being okay with myself as I walk along this bumpy, rocky, and sometimes hilly journey we call life.  Being okay with the fact that sometimes I don't walk "well".  Being okay with the fact that I stumble, choose the wrong footing, fall, and have to struggle to get back up again.  Being okay with the fact that I am not perfect.  It was about accepting myself and realizing that being human doesn't make me a bad person.  It helps me to accept myself as I learn and grow and make mistakes.  Accept MYSELF.

Today, as I was reading those words and walking in "the rain" of my thoughts, more realizations started forming, but this time it wasn't about my humanness.  It was about the humanness and acceptance of OTHERS.

Others = The people I love -- the ones in my tribe, my circle of acquaintances, and my family are all HUMAN!

In being human they are like me.  They stumble, and fall, and struggle, and choose words and actions unwisely, offend, and get stuck....just like me. 

They want to be accepted by their circle....just like me.

They want to be heard and loved....just like me.

They want to feel the sun on their face and feel free and at peace....just like me.

At times they might not be willing or ready to let certain things go yet....just like me.

They might need a friend to walk with....just like me.

Accepting those humans around me is just as important as accepting myself.  In fact, I found it to be harder because for some reason at times it is my nature to hold them to higher standards than I do myself.  For some reason, it's easy to believe that those humans around me should learn their lessons faster, be kinder,  struggle less, believe in themselves more, and  be this perfectly perfect person.... unlike me.  

Why should I believe that their journey of humanness is so different than mine?

It is wrong of me to think so, and when I can see my humans -- ALL humans with that frame of mind, then I believe it starts to set me free.  My spirit and mind become more open, and I start to feel more at peace within myself.  It's like giving them a "Get out of jail free" card from the Monopoly game I played long ago.  In my spirit and thoughts I extend grace to them as they live in their humanness. 

Extending grace and accepting people, however, doesn't mean the logical consequences of actions and words (positive or negative) go away.  

What it does mean is that my frame of mind in reference to them is different. 

It mean that at times it is easier to set down the "victim" hat and move forward in my own humanness.  It means that the old anxiety and strife when I think of a human that has wronged me doesn't bubble up as often...or to the same extent.  

It means that in my mind I can be healthy -- even if they are not.

No matter what

I've not written for a while.  Sometimes the scope of the path doesn't allow for times of quiet reflection.  Sometimes the rocky terrain of the journey forces you to pay attention to the path at hand and reflection is forced to wait.  My journey has been like that for me in the past few months.  When that happens, however, I long for times to sit and process.  My head is full of stories, and my heart is full of emotion.  The two don't always jive, honestly, my heart and my head.  It's on days like this, where I just HAVE to process, that I find a place to sit on the path no matter what is going on around me, and no matter where I am on the path.

I choose to sit and think and feel.

At times it is overwhelming all that comes to the surface.  It is almost as if I have my feelings chart in front of me, and the assignment is to circle what I am feeling at this moment.  As I contemplate the chart, I end up circling almost every feeling in every column!

So I sit and think and feel and try to sort those feelings into truths, and drown out the stories that my mind and heart tell me which aren't true.

Being honest with myself is a gift I give to myself -- No matter what.