I'd been so down on myself lately, that I felt I'd lost whatever peace of mind and equanimity I had found through meditation. In the middle of the night, I'd lie awake counting my sins, ruminating on them obsessively.
"I feel bad that I can't help you," Adrian said as we sat across from each other in the kitchen at 3 a.m.
"No one can," I said. "I just have to live through it."
He went back to bed and I continued to play solitaire--another one of my obsessions. Why, I thought, am I throwing my life away like this?
And then yesterday morning, I was reading Pema Chodron:
" . . . our true nature is not some ideal that we have to live up to. It's who we are right now, and that's what we can make friends with and celebrate." (p. 12, The Wisdom of No Escape)
I suddenly had the feeling that I should and could love myself unconditionally. Yes! I will love myself with all my warts and obsessions. I will not worry about becoming a better person. I will make peace with the one I am.
That's how I feel right now. I don't know why I'm so low, but it's very hard to pull myself up and out.
In some ways, it's making me a better caregiver, because I'm more sympathetic to Adrian's struggles. Recently we received the gift of a "sodamaker" machine that makes seltzer from water by pumping in CO2. I learned how to use it quickly, but Adrian has been complaining that he wants to be able to use it also.
"You don't need to know how to do it unless I die before you," I told him. But then I relented and offered to show him.
Unfortunately, with his bad eyesight and bad shoulders and arm, he couldn't do it very easily.
"This really boosts my self-confidence," he said sadly, as I took over the job.
We are old, we are old, we shall wear the bottoms of our trousers rolled. (Taken from Prufrock.)
A friend called to tell me his father died.
This morning I was reading Pema Chodron, and it felt so true. My immediate emotional response was that I don't love myself. Fortunately, things change, and maybe tomorrow I will.
Adrian started a new medication (Strattera) a month ago, and today we had to see the doctor for a follow-up appointment. What was I going to tell him? Was Adrian experiencing any bad side effects? Were we seeing any positive results from the drug?
I felt bad because I didn't have any solid information on either question, and I considered it my job to know the answers.
As caregivers, we often feel that it all rests on our shoulders. If we don't take care of it, who will? But we are truly NOT responsible for everything and will NOT always know the answers.
I take a breath in, a breath out, soften, relax, and let go.
The doctor's visit went fine. It was too early for positive results from the Strattera, and Adrian reported no significant side effects.
I have to remember that I AM NOT IN CONTROL. LET IT GO.
We all know of, or have heard of, a person in their eighties and even nineties who is in good physical and mental health with lots of energy, sense of humor, and the joy of daily living. But for the most part, getting older means losing: strength, energy, movement, memory, looks, and hair. If you don't lose in one category, it will be another.
How do we gracefully deal with these losses? And do they mean we must live narrower, less interesting and joyless lives?
At the age of 83, Adrian has two bad shoulders, balance problems, poor vision and hearing, and the early stages of dementia (most likely Alzheimer's). These losses make it difficult for him to find joy in daily life, though he perseveres. Having been a jock all his life, he feels the physical losses greatly. But he continues to ride his bike, take our neighbor's dog for walks, and play ping-pong when his shoulder can bear it. He continues to read and learn new subjects, even if he can only concentrate for 20 minutes at a time, and keeps misplacing his reading glasses.
I am probably having a harder time with Adrian's losses than he is, in the sense that I feel my life has been constrained. We used to play tennis and go for long hikes together. Now, simply walking is hard for him and he walks so slowly it can drive me to distraction to hang back with him. Typically, I can't, and walk ahead of him. That is not kind.
I am fifteen years younger than Adrian, and feel younger than that. So how do I reconcile the differences in our abilities, and his increased need for more attention from me?
Adrian and I are in California visiting two of his sons and their families. The reason I even have time to post this entry is that I am stuck in the hotel room with a urinary tract infection. I am prone to getting these when under stress (or not drinking enough water), so I carry antibiotics with me and took one right away. Tomorrow we are supposed to fly home, and I don't want to miss that!
As caregivers, we are responsible for two people when we travel together, and that increases our stress. To help with the organization, I use a checklist reminding me of everything we need to bring. But each time we go to someone's house, or to an event, I have to make sure we have everything Adrian might need: two pair of glasses, container for hearing aids, extra batteries, suitable clothing, and so forth.
To make things easier when traveling, it's most important to leave plenty of time, to be patient, and not worry about minor issues. But we have had a full schedule of social activities, and being the loner that I am, I missed the down time. Maybe my body was simply providing it for me today by getting sick.
The first sign that I was in a crabby mood today came when Adrian walked into my studio and started to talk to me about the painting I was working on.
"Is this your most popular size painting?" he asked.
"Does it look like it?" I said. "I paint square paintings. This one is rectangular."
It went downhill from there, and he finally asked, "Are you upset with me?"
"No, I'm upset with myself. But I need to be alone."
He left, and I felt bad that I'd acted so bitchy.
Next, when I tried to make BLTs at lunch, we were out of mayonnaise. Then later, when I said I didn't want to go on a "slow walk" with him, Adrian said, "I feel totally rejected."
OK, so now I've made him feel as bad as I do. That was helpful. He went off by himself, and now I'm alone in the house. Am I happy about that?
I have to remind myself that a) I'm not a saint; b) I'm bipolar and prone to mood swings; and c) it's OK not to be perfect.
As caregivers, we need to give ourselves a break.
This morning I went to meditation at the Foundation of Light, where we meditate, read, and talk about what we read. I brought in a book by Pema Chodron, and we read about pausing before reacting: just stopping and taking three breaths. Aaah, like that.
We were sitting outside in the sunlight, mesmerized by this bright warm day in Ithaca in the middle of November!
Pausing before we self-destruct or react with irritation and anger--how I need to do this!
I notice that I am programmed to react to anything new negatively. On a walk today with Adrian, he suggested a different way to go. "No," I said immediately. "That doesn't lead anywhere."
Then I paused and said, "Let's try it."
What was the big deal about walking on a path that ended at a fence and having to turn around? It was no less pleasant than going another way! We were out for a walk.
Pause. Breathe three breaths.
Soften, relax, and let go.
Today I took Adrian to see a new psychiatrist, and the doctor asked Adrian a few memory questions to check for Alzheimer's. Whenever that happens, I always try to answer the questions silently, and get anxious when I have trouble. I think, for example, that the one about drawing a clock showing the time of ten minutes to two is not that easy in these days of digital clocks and watches. How often do we actually look at clocks to tell the time? By the time my grand-kids take these tests, the clock question will be totally obsolete.
When the doctor heard that Adrian watches tennis, he asked who won the US Open this year. Well, I watched those matches with Adrian, and I knew it was Federer who won the mens, but I couldn't think of his name! As for the womens, I couldn't be sure if Serena did it or not. Adrian said confidently, "I know it wasn't the Williams sisters."
Now I have to go look it up because it's driving me crazy!
Well, I was wrong on both counts. Del Potro won the mens, beating Federer. And Clijsters won the womens.
Even the questions about past presidents were a little scary. I'm glad we didn't have to go back before Bush Senior.
Whew!
I didn't have much time for Adrian recently, because two of my brothers were in town for 3 days. Bob stayed with us, and Don and his partner stayed at my sister's house. We all played games, took walks, and ate together for 2 1/2 days. Games: ping-pong, bridge, Oh Hell (card game), Shanghai Rummy (card game in which Don made up the rules as we played); chess (Bob and Adrian only).
The Good: Adrian got along fabulously with Bob, which was great because they spent a lot of time together, and it would have been awful if they didn't get along, since Bob was staying at our house.
The Bad: Bob has always been a talker, but as he's aged, he's gotten worse. He could not even play ping-pong without stopping every two points to talk. It took him 4 times as long as the rest of us to eat because he talked through every meal until we got up and left him at the table.
The Ugly: Bob was especially irritable and cranky on the last day, picking fights with everyone. The final fight ended up with my sister and her husband leaving our house just before dinner.
Aah, I thought, maybe a two-night stay would have been better.
I confess that while I attempted to practice peace and patience with Bob, he always drove me to the point where I lost it. The house feels wonderful now with just me and Adrian in it.