So life is a lot different now. In so many many ways. Some of which I discussed in my last post. Many of which I haven't yet even identified, Dad was such an integral part of who I am, and certainly who I became in the last two years.
We had a terrible thing happen to one of our children three weeks after Dad's death. That taught me the humility of being in shock, and the formidable-ness of being a parent, protecting and empowering my child whilst falling apart myself. It also gave me reason to be grateful for the kind souls who have helped me through those weeks since.
people who help
In this instance, as with other moments of extreme need, it has been a few reliable dear friends, and some very considerate far-away friends, and even near-strangers who have made an effort to reach out to me in my need. Thank you, beautiful women.
giving the problem to a higher power
I've also had opportunity to really consider what it means to give away the problems to a higher power. I never considered that 'higher power' could be metaphorically simply 'giving away' the problem to my GP for instance. However on Sunday, that is exactly what happened. I informed my GP that since my child's traumatic event I was not coping so well, and no sooner had that problem been passed to him, and I felt better. I don't think this would be everyone's recipe for 'higher power' as not everyone has a GP they've known since they were 12, with the integrity and practicality of mine! However on the subject of higher powers, I realise too, that in a sense, I would actually take my life and its problems to my Dad on a regular basis. I never troubled Dad with commentary on my challenges, but rather in our quiet silences, or in our contemplation of the deep red Azaleas in the garden I believe I was in the habit of quietly unpacking and dumping my problems out, in some of of ritual of my own, involving an appreciation of the perspective that if Dad could cope under the terrible conditions of a nursing home and be pleased about anything at all, then my whole life and its problems couldn't possibly be insurmountable. (even if they were!)
savouring the positive moments
Today I was really struggling at one point. Then I really looked at what I had. My two happy children frolicking in the pool in dappled sunlight, a perfect summer's day. And I thought on that and felt grateful for that until I truly did feel blessed to witness such calm, unfettered peace. I need to continue to take the time to appreciate everything I can.
routines are my friend
I am sticking with existing routines and making new ones! I'm still doing Tai Chi and now I've discovered that a weekly trip to the movies does wonders that I can't live without at the moment.
feeling the 'Dadness'
One of the things that really helped me to feel that blessed sense of happiness was that I made myself see the picture with Dad's eyes. He would have laughed and been delighted at the kids playing, and he would have said to me "Don't worry about all that other nonsense, you'll be all right" I'm blessed to have the opportunity to learn from him, even after he has passed.
feeling the pain
It is easy to try to 'cope' to push aside indignity and pain. Sometimes it is necessary for getting by. But feeling the pain and hurt and sorrow is also vital to being a whole person. Today after an extremely confronting correspondence from my child's school I was brought to tears during a business phone call. And I owned it, that was my pain and sorrow and it wasn't going to be held in at that point, because it was part of who I am. There are some times when crying might not be a great idea, but also sometimes when it is ok to cry regardless of the circumstances.
change my thinking not solving the problem
I read this in a meme today. It absolutely sums up all of the above and more. It is only by perceiving things differently that I will get through this period in my life in a way that leaves me healthier than coming into it.
Be kind and loving. (a reminder for myself and an idea to contemplate)
Showing posts with label acceptance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label acceptance. Show all posts
Thursday, December 11, 2014
Monday, November 17, 2014
7 of the Ways my Dad improved my life
As usual, I have only a limited amount of time to write this blog. Today I have been particularly mindful of the many myriad of ways that through his illness and final years, my father had an incredible influence on my life.
I have been really struggling since his death and needed to write this list in order to begin a journey of regrouping my strengths. At the moment I'm suffering a loss that belies the frail old man who was dependent on others. These are seven of the reasons why my loss is so great, just some of the ways he improved my life:
1. Gratitude - witnessing Dad living in a nursing home, reliant on the courtesy (or lack of it) from other people, relying on their gentleness (or lack thereof), and dependent on them wholly due to his dementia in ways that we can only be horrified at was exhausting emotionally. In order to cope with the sadness of bearing witness to the circumstances it was absolutely necessary to become grateful. Grateful every day that I could help him, give him dignity or something to look forward to; grateful for every day that a 'good' carer was on that he was receiving better treatment that day; grateful that the 'bad' staff were only on for a shift and then would be gone again. Gratitude improves longevity, so learning the lesson of daily gratitude through Dad was incredible.
2. Acceptance - As Dad declined in health both mentally and physically, he never ever lost his will to live or his enjoyment of what life he had left in him. As each new indignity of ageing took over his daily life, he accepted it with grace (mostly) and continued to turn instead towards that which made him happy. He lived for his grandchildren's visits, for my visits, to see the sunshine and flowers, and to kiss the hand of his caring staff. He lived for sausages, and other enjoyed foods, and for the smile of a warm person. He taught me that life is about flowers and family and if you can't have either, just find something and enjoy whatever you can. Bless him for that incredible lifelong lesson I hope to pass along to my children.
3. Strength of mind - nothing creates a need for strength of mind like having to find a way to overcome the gulf between wishing to provide total assistance and dignified care to your loved one, and the reality of there being very little you can actually control. Dad's situation taught me to create my own boundaries around my expectations and actions. He taught me that if I could only help him once a week, that was better than not helping. Acceptance is a key part of having the strength of mind to decisively think positive instead of despairing, I had to learn to accept that what I did had to be enough simply by telling myself that it was.
4. Boundaries - When someone is in a nursing home or hospital, they are in 'their' world, swallowed up within the systems and rules created by those large institutions. Learning to navigate the systems first step was to follow the unwritten rules and boundaries. I now know how to look for these in so many areas of life.
5. Communication - Dad's illness taught me so much about humanity. How to get onto his level and communicate with him, as well as how to negotiate and advocate for him. I had plenty of help from some of the kind people in the system, but without Dad I would never have persevered with learning so much about communication, how to find one key point and focus on that, how to not bombard people with everything you want to say, so many things.
6. Patience - waiting for a doctor for 3 hours is a very effective way to build up a head of steam, however it doesn't help anything. Likewise if a nurse isn't coming to a buzzer call fast enough. It helps to simply apply patience to them and get on with something else while you wait. In the case of more than one buzzer call I simply got on with fixing the problem as best I could myself, knowing they'd turn up eventually.
7. Determination - of the quiet kind. Dad simply didn't give up on walking, regardless of who gave up on him. If people unthinkingly were stupid enough to place him in a position from where walking proved impossible, he would simply get around by any other means he could muster, most of which were so ingenious that carers simply didn't believe his determination or intention. Many people under estimated my father, sadly to his detriment, however the determination he showed, right up until the end of his days will stay with me forever.
Thank you Dad for all you did for me, perhaps without knowing it. I believe though that you did know, and I hope you know how grateful I am for your amazing gifts. Without a father like you, determined and unwavering in your last years I would be poorer for the lack of experience. Love you Dad.
I have been really struggling since his death and needed to write this list in order to begin a journey of regrouping my strengths. At the moment I'm suffering a loss that belies the frail old man who was dependent on others. These are seven of the reasons why my loss is so great, just some of the ways he improved my life:
1. Gratitude - witnessing Dad living in a nursing home, reliant on the courtesy (or lack of it) from other people, relying on their gentleness (or lack thereof), and dependent on them wholly due to his dementia in ways that we can only be horrified at was exhausting emotionally. In order to cope with the sadness of bearing witness to the circumstances it was absolutely necessary to become grateful. Grateful every day that I could help him, give him dignity or something to look forward to; grateful for every day that a 'good' carer was on that he was receiving better treatment that day; grateful that the 'bad' staff were only on for a shift and then would be gone again. Gratitude improves longevity, so learning the lesson of daily gratitude through Dad was incredible.
2. Acceptance - As Dad declined in health both mentally and physically, he never ever lost his will to live or his enjoyment of what life he had left in him. As each new indignity of ageing took over his daily life, he accepted it with grace (mostly) and continued to turn instead towards that which made him happy. He lived for his grandchildren's visits, for my visits, to see the sunshine and flowers, and to kiss the hand of his caring staff. He lived for sausages, and other enjoyed foods, and for the smile of a warm person. He taught me that life is about flowers and family and if you can't have either, just find something and enjoy whatever you can. Bless him for that incredible lifelong lesson I hope to pass along to my children.
3. Strength of mind - nothing creates a need for strength of mind like having to find a way to overcome the gulf between wishing to provide total assistance and dignified care to your loved one, and the reality of there being very little you can actually control. Dad's situation taught me to create my own boundaries around my expectations and actions. He taught me that if I could only help him once a week, that was better than not helping. Acceptance is a key part of having the strength of mind to decisively think positive instead of despairing, I had to learn to accept that what I did had to be enough simply by telling myself that it was.
4. Boundaries - When someone is in a nursing home or hospital, they are in 'their' world, swallowed up within the systems and rules created by those large institutions. Learning to navigate the systems first step was to follow the unwritten rules and boundaries. I now know how to look for these in so many areas of life.
5. Communication - Dad's illness taught me so much about humanity. How to get onto his level and communicate with him, as well as how to negotiate and advocate for him. I had plenty of help from some of the kind people in the system, but without Dad I would never have persevered with learning so much about communication, how to find one key point and focus on that, how to not bombard people with everything you want to say, so many things.
6. Patience - waiting for a doctor for 3 hours is a very effective way to build up a head of steam, however it doesn't help anything. Likewise if a nurse isn't coming to a buzzer call fast enough. It helps to simply apply patience to them and get on with something else while you wait. In the case of more than one buzzer call I simply got on with fixing the problem as best I could myself, knowing they'd turn up eventually.
7. Determination - of the quiet kind. Dad simply didn't give up on walking, regardless of who gave up on him. If people unthinkingly were stupid enough to place him in a position from where walking proved impossible, he would simply get around by any other means he could muster, most of which were so ingenious that carers simply didn't believe his determination or intention. Many people under estimated my father, sadly to his detriment, however the determination he showed, right up until the end of his days will stay with me forever.
Thank you Dad for all you did for me, perhaps without knowing it. I believe though that you did know, and I hope you know how grateful I am for your amazing gifts. Without a father like you, determined and unwavering in your last years I would be poorer for the lack of experience. Love you Dad.
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