I suppose that I lived in a bubble of delight before my father died so suddenly. As one would expect his death cast a shadow on my life from the time that I woke up at the age of eight to find out that he was gone forever. From that point forward I have responded to the world in a pattern that repeats itself over and over again.
I am mostly a strong survivor but from time to time my facade of strength begins to crumble a bit. For many reasons I have never been able to simply fall apart so I devised a method for getting through difficult situations. I tend to muscle through but often feel weakness creeping into my soul that I know I must nurture a bit before I am able to move on. It is in those times that I withdraw from the world for a bit, sitting at home in my pajamas and talking long naps and sleeps. Somehow the respite brings my energy and optimism back to life and I am able to soldier on just as I have so many times.
The death of my father is truly the worst of my troubles but the mental illness of my mother is a very close second. It felt as though insult was added to injury when she became ill around twelve years after my father died. I had never before encountered anyone with severe depression, mania and paranoia. I had no idea how to react other than to be incredibly frightened by her behavior. Little did I know that I would spend the next forty odd years coping with her illness and attempting to find her the care that she needed. Each time that her illness returned I somehow found the fortitude and energy to help her become well again. Each time she was better I had to sit in my home vegetating for a few days to refuel my determination to carry on.
And so it has been year after year with other incidents and tragedies that entered my life. In my late twenties I found myself going back and forth to the hospital where my husband was being treated for a rare disease that required months of chemotherapy with no assurance that he would ultimately be well again. All the while I had to remain strong for my two little girls who were already sensing that something was amiss. My need to comfort them kept me going for a very long time before I finally had one of my lockdowns while they were at school.
A three month bout of hepatitis brought the fear that my condition was chronic but ironically the imposed resting helped me to feel invincible once again. For the most part I encountered a long stretch of time in which things were going so well that I rarely felt the need to take a mental health day at home. I rocked along enjoying the fact that most of my irritations were minor and feeling thankful that the big challenges were few and far between.
Eventually my mother grew older and less able to care for herself. She came to live with me and I found that having her in close proximity seemed to help both of us. Her last years on this earth were mostly pleasant because me and my brothers had learned how to navigate her mental illness with relative ease. What was shocking was to learn that she had advanced lung cancer and might have a limited time to live.
After my mother’s death I retired from my work as a full time educator. Life became rather fun for me and my husband and I seemed to no longer have a need to take a break from reality. And so it was until my husband had a mini stroke followed by five days of relentless rain created by hurricane Harvey. I hardly slept during that frightening time as I watched one friend or relative after another having to escape flood waters entering their homes. I relocated to the upstairs and brought my most precious books and belongings to the safety of greater heights. Fortunately we were spared the horror of a flooded home and for a time life rocked along once again.
Just as I was feeling quite sturdy and unburdened by worries the Covid pandemic happened and I silently wondered if my elderly father-in-law and his wife would lose their lives to the virus. While also shielding my husband from the illness I figured out ways to get my in-laws the food and other items that they needed so that they would not have to leave their home. The two years that I spent navigating past the potential of coming down with the virus worked out well but by then my mother-in-law was very ill with congestive heart failure. Sadly my father-in-law was in the hospital having emergency surgery on the same night that she died. My world turned upside down once again.
After many weeks with ups and downs and time spent in rehab we brought my father-in-law home to our house where he lived for the next four years. Over time it became apparent that my husband and I were also growing older and becoming less capable of being responsible for an elderly man. When Mike was diagnosed with cancer and I was told that I would need two total knee replacements we understood that we were living in a precarious situation and so my father-in-law decided to move to an apartment in a senior living community where he would be enjoying life independently.
Somehow things began to fall apart once again when he fell in the middle of the night and his health waned rather quickly from that time forward. While I was scheduled for surgery he was enduring one emergency hospital visit after another. There was a time when Mike was spreading himself thin caring for me and his father at the same time.
Now I am walking better, sleeping better and feeling better but my father-in-law who is now ninety seven years old is under hospice care. His days and nights are spent on an oxygen machine while he lies in bed unable to eat more than broth and Boost. Just at the time when I should have been celebrating my recovery from the knee surgery I found myself falling apart much as I had done many times in the past when the pressure had become overbearing.
I saw my optimism dwindling even as it was taxed by a president who seems to be insanely driving us to unnecessary wars. The fact that there were still people defending his craziness sent me into a spiral of sadness that I had to nurse once again. Because I understood how to heal myself I simply stayed at home doing little or nothing including spending time playing word games, watching television and sleeping much of the time.
My self care has worked once again. My energy is stabilized and I know that I am going to be fine until the next terrible challenge comes my way. I learned long ago that it is not just okay to take a break when I need one but that it is absolutely necessary.
We always have to recognize when life is too much with us. It is always okay to take a break from life and even to tell people how we are doing. I suppose that I am lucky in knowing what to do but I suspect that some people like my mother all too often pretend that nothing is wrong when their worlds are falling apart. I would urge everyone to stop the world and get off on a regular basis. It is the least we can do for ourselves.
All It Takes Is A Little Love 