The battle against resentment toward my mom is ongoing. On the days when resentment suffuses my emotions, I have to choose to move forward through my day acting upon what I know to be true rather responding to the clamor of the enemy's cries.
Truth: I am fulfilling an anointed work in caring for my mother. Truth: God has ordained this time both for my mother's blessing AND for mine. Truth: God is being very gentle with me as He prepares me for my mother's leavetaking. Truth: God is with me always; I have not been abandoned.
The negative thoughts that come into my head remind me of the naysayers who sought to discourage and frighten Nehemiah's work crews as the wall of Jerusalem was being rebuilt. Nehemiah prayed against those who spoke slander against the Israelites, because they had "thrown insults in the faces of the builders" (Nehemiah 4:5).
When I went into my mother's room today "Oh Danny Boy" was playing on the easy listening music channel. Although no lyrics accompanied the orchestral rendition of the tune, a phrase from the song came into my head and tears formed in my eyes in response: "...you must go and I must stay..." This is the basis of my resentment toward Mom; she's leaving me. My mother's slow fading leaves a hole in my heart, and I must fill this emptiness with the Lord's love. Otherwise, I'm easy prey for negative thoughts that would slander my mother's character and tempt me to sin toward her by acting out resentment rather than love.
Scripture: "The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love..." (Zephaniah 3:17).
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Stress-o-meters
I remember when I was laboring to give birth to my daughter. A machine had somehow been wired to my body in order to measure the strength of my contractions, and the nurses would ooooh and aaaaah during a particularly intense contraction as the monitor displayed a kind of bar graph in motion with indicators shooting nearly off the display screen.
"You must have an extremely high pain tolerance," one said.
"Are you sure you don't want something for the pain?" queried another as she dabbed my brow with a cool, damp cloth.
My husband clutched my hand and stared into my eyes with an agonized expression that, on this occasion, had nothing to do with his football knee or his arthritic back. His compassion was all for me, and even in the midst of bringing forth a child I was gratified by the empathy.
I've always thought of that wondrous machine to which I was attached during labor as being a "pain-o-meter". Today it has occurred to me that we all ought to wear a portable version of that apparatus in our everyday lives. It could measure stress and exhaustion, assign a numerical value, and display it in graph form. We could all wear our stress-o-meters where everyone could plainly see our tension levels; perhaps as a kind of jumbo necklace with an electronic display.
I envision myself coming home from a full day's work that has followed a sleepless night, only to find that my mother's cat has eaten a plant and has then thrown up in three of the four rooms of her apartment. In my vision I drag myself into our part of the house as my husband walks in the back door, and he sees the reading on my stress-o-meter.
Deeply alarmed for my welfare, he exclaims, "Darling! You must sit down! Let me get you a cool drink! Don't even think about doing another thing tonight! You need sustenance, let me get your supper! I'll call my mother, maybe she'll make your favorite dessert! I'll call our children to come home and minister to your needs!!!!"
Well, I really didn't sleep last night, I had a professional development meeting today; the cat did throw up all over Mom's apartment, our respite care lady is out of town, Son called to say he was bringing his friend-who-is-a-girl home for the weekend, and Daughter needs us to keep our 14-month-old (adorable and full of energy) child on Sunday. Obviously, no one can see my stress-o-meter.
Trouble is, if they could see mine, I'd undoubtedly get a load of theirs. Son carries 17 hours of college courses, maintains a good GPA, recently endured a painful breakup with a girl who was perfect in every way (except for her desire to live and work in Africa), and carries an activities schedule that would drop a cart horse. Daughter chases aforementioned 14-month-old around her home with no break 7 days a week--and the child doesn't sleep very much at all. Thus, neither does Daughter. Husband is coping with a farm, a sewer leak, and two trucks that need repairs.
OK. I know what to do...
...Dear Lord, I am weary. Please strengthen me and help me. I lift my loved ones to You. Enable us to empathize with one another and to bear our loads together, in Jesus' Name I pray, Amen.
Scripture: "Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ" Galatians 6:2
"You must have an extremely high pain tolerance," one said.
"Are you sure you don't want something for the pain?" queried another as she dabbed my brow with a cool, damp cloth.
My husband clutched my hand and stared into my eyes with an agonized expression that, on this occasion, had nothing to do with his football knee or his arthritic back. His compassion was all for me, and even in the midst of bringing forth a child I was gratified by the empathy.
I've always thought of that wondrous machine to which I was attached during labor as being a "pain-o-meter". Today it has occurred to me that we all ought to wear a portable version of that apparatus in our everyday lives. It could measure stress and exhaustion, assign a numerical value, and display it in graph form. We could all wear our stress-o-meters where everyone could plainly see our tension levels; perhaps as a kind of jumbo necklace with an electronic display.
I envision myself coming home from a full day's work that has followed a sleepless night, only to find that my mother's cat has eaten a plant and has then thrown up in three of the four rooms of her apartment. In my vision I drag myself into our part of the house as my husband walks in the back door, and he sees the reading on my stress-o-meter.
Deeply alarmed for my welfare, he exclaims, "Darling! You must sit down! Let me get you a cool drink! Don't even think about doing another thing tonight! You need sustenance, let me get your supper! I'll call my mother, maybe she'll make your favorite dessert! I'll call our children to come home and minister to your needs!!!!"
Well, I really didn't sleep last night, I had a professional development meeting today; the cat did throw up all over Mom's apartment, our respite care lady is out of town, Son called to say he was bringing his friend-who-is-a-girl home for the weekend, and Daughter needs us to keep our 14-month-old (adorable and full of energy) child on Sunday. Obviously, no one can see my stress-o-meter.
Trouble is, if they could see mine, I'd undoubtedly get a load of theirs. Son carries 17 hours of college courses, maintains a good GPA, recently endured a painful breakup with a girl who was perfect in every way (except for her desire to live and work in Africa), and carries an activities schedule that would drop a cart horse. Daughter chases aforementioned 14-month-old around her home with no break 7 days a week--and the child doesn't sleep very much at all. Thus, neither does Daughter. Husband is coping with a farm, a sewer leak, and two trucks that need repairs.
OK. I know what to do...
...Dear Lord, I am weary. Please strengthen me and help me. I lift my loved ones to You. Enable us to empathize with one another and to bear our loads together, in Jesus' Name I pray, Amen.
Scripture: "Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ" Galatians 6:2
Friday, April 24, 2009
Comic Relief
Last evening my husband and I were having one of our periodic disagreements. I can't remember what started it but it ended with my comment that there were sure a lot of dandelions in the yard and his observation that I made mountains out of molehills. Both statements were true.
Things were not yet quite comfortable between us when my beloved spouse opened the phone/satellite dish bill. He came striding into the living room where I was seated on the couch, and waved the bill under my nose. "How do you explain THIS?" he demanded.
There were two separate eleven dollar charges for movies. One was entitled "Jugs of Joy." I've forgotten the title of the other--or have blocked it from my memory. Both movies were from the Playboy channel.
I said, "OK, do you REALLY think that while you are out working on the farm that I'm home watching "Jugs of Joy"??
He sheepishly admitted that no, he really didn't think that. We looked at each other and both of us started to giggle. The tension was broken between us and we began to problem solve, trying to think what might have happened. It is to our son's credit that neither of us suspected him--but at any rate he had been away at college on the date the movies were rented. The mystery had to remain unsolved until this morning. I called the DISH TV people and talked with a very nice young man who immediately removed the charges from our bill, no questions asked. He told me how to check the purchase history on our receivers, which I did. On the receiver in the main part of the house I was relieved to note that there was no record of a movie rental, unsavory or otherwise. I turned toward Mom's door in doubt, not seeing how she might have managed to select those movies and purchase them--but when I checked her receiver there they were. I locked the system, established a password, placed ratings blocks on the selections Mom could see (as I'd already done on the main receiver but hadn't thought to do in Mom's room) and made it out of her room before I began to laugh out loud. I'd known that Mom sometimes used the complicated DISH remote and that she has trouble navigating her way around the 100 channels in our basic package. But purchasing a movie requires several steps and I hadn't thought she would be able to accidentally complete the transaction.
Poor Mom. Maybe she thought "Jugs of Joy" was a Christian station. I just hope and pray she didn't actually begin to watch the movie. The shock wouldn't have been good for her.
Things were not yet quite comfortable between us when my beloved spouse opened the phone/satellite dish bill. He came striding into the living room where I was seated on the couch, and waved the bill under my nose. "How do you explain THIS?" he demanded.
There were two separate eleven dollar charges for movies. One was entitled "Jugs of Joy." I've forgotten the title of the other--or have blocked it from my memory. Both movies were from the Playboy channel.
I said, "OK, do you REALLY think that while you are out working on the farm that I'm home watching "Jugs of Joy"??
He sheepishly admitted that no, he really didn't think that. We looked at each other and both of us started to giggle. The tension was broken between us and we began to problem solve, trying to think what might have happened. It is to our son's credit that neither of us suspected him--but at any rate he had been away at college on the date the movies were rented. The mystery had to remain unsolved until this morning. I called the DISH TV people and talked with a very nice young man who immediately removed the charges from our bill, no questions asked. He told me how to check the purchase history on our receivers, which I did. On the receiver in the main part of the house I was relieved to note that there was no record of a movie rental, unsavory or otherwise. I turned toward Mom's door in doubt, not seeing how she might have managed to select those movies and purchase them--but when I checked her receiver there they were. I locked the system, established a password, placed ratings blocks on the selections Mom could see (as I'd already done on the main receiver but hadn't thought to do in Mom's room) and made it out of her room before I began to laugh out loud. I'd known that Mom sometimes used the complicated DISH remote and that she has trouble navigating her way around the 100 channels in our basic package. But purchasing a movie requires several steps and I hadn't thought she would be able to accidentally complete the transaction.
Poor Mom. Maybe she thought "Jugs of Joy" was a Christian station. I just hope and pray she didn't actually begin to watch the movie. The shock wouldn't have been good for her.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Uh Huh
A good part of my purpose in writing about my mother's Alzheimer's disease lies in my determination to help you, my fellow caregivers, to avoid the pitfalls into which I so nobly allow myself to plunge. Sure, I regularly respond to my mother as though she were the mom I once knew, the one who didn't have Alzheimer's. I do this so I can then write about the caregiving blunders I make. That way, I am able to protect many caregivers from making similar mistakes. I do it for you.
OK, not really. Bottom line is I'd like there to be some valid excuse for the way I keep making the same caregiving errors over and over again. My latest gaffe lies in the way I just can't seem to keep from responding in irritation to my mom even when I know she can't help the behavior that I find annoying.
You see, my mother can't remember what's happened five minutes ago, but she's a smart lady and has developed an effective coping mechanism. The strategy that enables her to cover her lack of knowledge about what has transpired in the immediate past is this: no matter what I say to Mom, she acts as though she already knows about it. She has a variety of ways of conveying this, but the most annoying response she makes to any piece of news I bring is a simple "Uh huh." It looks so innocuous in print, but Mom packs a lot into those two little syllables. There's a hint of exaggerated patience, a definite touch of long-suffering, and a superior little lifting of the voice at the end of the last syllable. She'll sometimes elaborate by saying, "You told me that earlier" (even if I haven't), but just on its own, the "uh huh" is enough to set my teeth on edge.
Another symptom of Mom's short term memory loss is that nothing is ever her fault. Because she does not remember that she is the one who spilled the coffee, clogged the sink, or stashed the coffee filters in the wrong drawer, she takes accountability for nothing. I know she often thinks that I am the one who committed these small domestic crimes, and even more humiliating I know that she must believe that I have an unfortunate tendency to blame her for wrongdoings I've committed. After all, since she doesn't remember she's made the error then someone else must have done it, and I'm the person who is most often in her line of vision.
The surface annoyance I feel over all of this masks deeper sorrows; I can no longer share news with my mom and expect the empathy and understanding she would have shown me in the past; and when my mother has committed some small wrong against me, she no longer says that she's sorry. On days when I'm feeling lonely and am missing the way I used to be able to talk with Mom, I am particularly in danger of responding to her in annoyance when she is only trying to cope with her environment in the best way she can. To state it baldly, it is when I am in a self-centered state of mind that I'm most likely prone to be cruel to Mom by punishing her through my display of irritation over the fact that she is unable to nurture me as she once did. This is sinful behavior on my part.
To be a good caregiver I must be able to empathize with my mother's inability to remember. I must do the heart work required to see things from her perspective. In order to manage this I have to find all of my fresh springs in the Lord, and thus relieve my Mom of demands for which she no longer has a supply.
Scripture: Then those who sing as well as those who play the flutes shall say, 'All my springs of joy are in you" (Psalm 87:7 NASB).
OK, not really. Bottom line is I'd like there to be some valid excuse for the way I keep making the same caregiving errors over and over again. My latest gaffe lies in the way I just can't seem to keep from responding in irritation to my mom even when I know she can't help the behavior that I find annoying.
You see, my mother can't remember what's happened five minutes ago, but she's a smart lady and has developed an effective coping mechanism. The strategy that enables her to cover her lack of knowledge about what has transpired in the immediate past is this: no matter what I say to Mom, she acts as though she already knows about it. She has a variety of ways of conveying this, but the most annoying response she makes to any piece of news I bring is a simple "Uh huh." It looks so innocuous in print, but Mom packs a lot into those two little syllables. There's a hint of exaggerated patience, a definite touch of long-suffering, and a superior little lifting of the voice at the end of the last syllable. She'll sometimes elaborate by saying, "You told me that earlier" (even if I haven't), but just on its own, the "uh huh" is enough to set my teeth on edge.
Another symptom of Mom's short term memory loss is that nothing is ever her fault. Because she does not remember that she is the one who spilled the coffee, clogged the sink, or stashed the coffee filters in the wrong drawer, she takes accountability for nothing. I know she often thinks that I am the one who committed these small domestic crimes, and even more humiliating I know that she must believe that I have an unfortunate tendency to blame her for wrongdoings I've committed. After all, since she doesn't remember she's made the error then someone else must have done it, and I'm the person who is most often in her line of vision.
The surface annoyance I feel over all of this masks deeper sorrows; I can no longer share news with my mom and expect the empathy and understanding she would have shown me in the past; and when my mother has committed some small wrong against me, she no longer says that she's sorry. On days when I'm feeling lonely and am missing the way I used to be able to talk with Mom, I am particularly in danger of responding to her in annoyance when she is only trying to cope with her environment in the best way she can. To state it baldly, it is when I am in a self-centered state of mind that I'm most likely prone to be cruel to Mom by punishing her through my display of irritation over the fact that she is unable to nurture me as she once did. This is sinful behavior on my part.
To be a good caregiver I must be able to empathize with my mother's inability to remember. I must do the heart work required to see things from her perspective. In order to manage this I have to find all of my fresh springs in the Lord, and thus relieve my Mom of demands for which she no longer has a supply.
Scripture: Then those who sing as well as those who play the flutes shall say, 'All my springs of joy are in you" (Psalm 87:7 NASB).
Thursday, March 5, 2009
A Word for the Spouses of Alzheimer's Caregivers
I have compassion for spouses of those who are taking care of an aging parent. You've most likely reached middle age, children have left the nest, and perhaps you were anticipating an opportunity to spend more time pursuing activities you enjoy. Then, just when your jet ski is set to launch, you receive a call. A parent-in-law needs help, your spouse is out the door to rush to the fallen one’s aid, your household is in turmoil, and meetings are being held to decide how to care for someone who in the past may or may not have cared much for you. An elderly in-law's infirmity may intrude on your home life and your freedom on an escalating scale ranging from inconvenience to hardship.
However, you must give careful thought to the ways in which you choose to respond to this situation, because your responses will lay the foundation for the relationship you will share with your spouse for the rest of your lives. If you are able to exhibit compassion and support for your spouse, and also for the patient who is receiving care, you will find that these positive behaviors will go a long way toward healing any rifts that existed in your marriage before this crisis occurred. A little kindness now, and you will be able to leave the lid off the toothpaste for the rest of your married life with no fear of retribution.
I'd been a farm wife for 30 years when my mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. My husband’s kindnesses to my mother and support of me as her caregiver have engendered a new level of admiration for him in my heart. I am grateful to him and I'm blessed to see his many acts of kindness toward my mother. Through his treatment of her I feel that I've gotten a window into how he would treat me if I should ever be hospitalized after, say, driving into a tree while attempting to answer a cell phone call. His attitude and behavior toward my mother assure me that he would also be adept at smiling into my eyes and spooning chicken soup into my mouth regardless of the state of my mental capacity. I feel a new level of trust toward him.
The laying aside one’s own desires for the welfare of another person allows the opportunity to follow Christ’s example of humility and service. My heart is with the spouses of caregivers today. You are caregivers too.
However, you must give careful thought to the ways in which you choose to respond to this situation, because your responses will lay the foundation for the relationship you will share with your spouse for the rest of your lives. If you are able to exhibit compassion and support for your spouse, and also for the patient who is receiving care, you will find that these positive behaviors will go a long way toward healing any rifts that existed in your marriage before this crisis occurred. A little kindness now, and you will be able to leave the lid off the toothpaste for the rest of your married life with no fear of retribution.
I'd been a farm wife for 30 years when my mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. My husband’s kindnesses to my mother and support of me as her caregiver have engendered a new level of admiration for him in my heart. I am grateful to him and I'm blessed to see his many acts of kindness toward my mother. Through his treatment of her I feel that I've gotten a window into how he would treat me if I should ever be hospitalized after, say, driving into a tree while attempting to answer a cell phone call. His attitude and behavior toward my mother assure me that he would also be adept at smiling into my eyes and spooning chicken soup into my mouth regardless of the state of my mental capacity. I feel a new level of trust toward him.
The laying aside one’s own desires for the welfare of another person allows the opportunity to follow Christ’s example of humility and service. My heart is with the spouses of caregivers today. You are caregivers too.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Sometimes I Forget
When a person has Alzheimer's, higher level thinking skills are compromised. This fact should be obvious, I suppose; but the difficulty is that Alzheimer's patients like my mother are still able to present a normal facade to the world.
For fifty years of my life, my mother was able to counsel me with understanding and compassion for whatever trial I was enduring. Now, she's unable to do that. You'd think I'd adapt. After all, I'm the one who still is ABLE to adapt.
Yesterday afternoon I was upset because someone had hurt my feelings. As I took Mother for her walk around the driveway I told her all about it as I would have in years past. Mom not only was unsympathetic, she was downright snippy toward me and took the other person's side.
You see, Mom is always annoyed when I make her go for a walk because she doesn't remember that she lives a completely sedentary life. It seems to her that I'm forcing her to do something that she doesn't want to do, something she feels to be unpleasant and unnecessary; and her conclusion is that I'm doing this for some diabolical purpose of my own. She goes along with me because it her policy to be agreeable, but she can't quite be cheerful about it. As I spilled my hurt to Mom I did not think about the fact that she is able to process only one emotion at a time, and that whatever she is feeling colors all of her perceptions.
All of us are affected by mood and emotion, but the dementia patient loses the ability to function cognitively on more than one level at a time; she has no memory of moments in the immediate past upon which she could build a logical perception of her present moment. When my mood causes me to be grouchy with my husband there is a part of me that knows I'm being unreasonable, the part that pushes me to apologize later. Mom has lost that ability to analyze herself; she has only the input from the moment she is in. If she is annoyed then I must have caused it. Case closed.
It isn't that I should stop confiding in my mother; one of the blessings of the long goodbye of Alzheimer's is that I am still able to laugh with Mom, confide in her, talk with her. But as Mom's caregiver, I need to think about how she is perceiving her environment and how she is feeling before I make myself vulnerable through a confession of my hurts or frustrations. As her daughter I must remember her love for me (past and present) and mine for her, and let all of my actions toward her be governed by that love. As a child of God I need to remember that the Lord is my Shepherd and is sufficient to meet all of my needs.
Sometimes I forget.
Scripture: "Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you" (Isaiah 49:15).
For fifty years of my life, my mother was able to counsel me with understanding and compassion for whatever trial I was enduring. Now, she's unable to do that. You'd think I'd adapt. After all, I'm the one who still is ABLE to adapt.
Yesterday afternoon I was upset because someone had hurt my feelings. As I took Mother for her walk around the driveway I told her all about it as I would have in years past. Mom not only was unsympathetic, she was downright snippy toward me and took the other person's side.
You see, Mom is always annoyed when I make her go for a walk because she doesn't remember that she lives a completely sedentary life. It seems to her that I'm forcing her to do something that she doesn't want to do, something she feels to be unpleasant and unnecessary; and her conclusion is that I'm doing this for some diabolical purpose of my own. She goes along with me because it her policy to be agreeable, but she can't quite be cheerful about it. As I spilled my hurt to Mom I did not think about the fact that she is able to process only one emotion at a time, and that whatever she is feeling colors all of her perceptions.
All of us are affected by mood and emotion, but the dementia patient loses the ability to function cognitively on more than one level at a time; she has no memory of moments in the immediate past upon which she could build a logical perception of her present moment. When my mood causes me to be grouchy with my husband there is a part of me that knows I'm being unreasonable, the part that pushes me to apologize later. Mom has lost that ability to analyze herself; she has only the input from the moment she is in. If she is annoyed then I must have caused it. Case closed.
It isn't that I should stop confiding in my mother; one of the blessings of the long goodbye of Alzheimer's is that I am still able to laugh with Mom, confide in her, talk with her. But as Mom's caregiver, I need to think about how she is perceiving her environment and how she is feeling before I make myself vulnerable through a confession of my hurts or frustrations. As her daughter I must remember her love for me (past and present) and mine for her, and let all of my actions toward her be governed by that love. As a child of God I need to remember that the Lord is my Shepherd and is sufficient to meet all of my needs.
Sometimes I forget.
Scripture: "Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you" (Isaiah 49:15).
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Wounds Not My Own
As my children were growing up, I learned that my prayers protected their hearts from hurtful words and actions launched toward them by others. Time and again I've felt amazed that my children could take painful situations in stride. It was as though arrows of hurt bounced off a strong shield of armor around them.
My own heart was a different story, however. I became aware of the need not so much to guard my heart--intercession precludes closing down spiritually--but rather, I learned to quickly take every heart hurt to the Lord. Otherwise, as I labored in prayer and cried out to the Lord on my children's behalf, I was crippled by the pain of those hurtful situations myself.
A similar phenomenon is occurring with my mother. Mom doesn't get many phone calls and has averaged no more than two or three visitors a year since she has lived with us. My children make it a point to stop by her room for five or ten minutes when they can, but this doesn't occur often. And yet, Mom is amazingly content. Although she loves visits and phone calls, she never complains when they are lacking, and will make excuse for those who fail to call or write to her. My heart is the one that withers with pangs of rejection!
I call it "projected rejection." I identify with my Mom and I think about how I would feel if I were in her place.
As a caregiver it is unexpectedly difficult to maintain a separate identity from the person who receives care--especially if that person is a loved one. Caring for Mom and working to understand her thinking patterns has led me to the point that I can very nearly see from her perspective, and sometimes the lines between my own experience and hers become blurred. My mom and I have always been so much alike. Now, that fact terrifies me. I fear becoming old and being forgotten. I suffer in advance the emotional pain of being rejected and feeling unloved--projected rejection indeed! It hasn't happened yet but I'm terrified that it might!
The Lord has not equipped me to handle a life with little interaction with friends because I am not the one who needs that particular armor--I am not my mother! I'm praying today to be able to separate my identity and where I am in my life's journey from that of my mother's, even as I care for her, anticipate her needs, and attempt to understand how she thinks.
It isn't easy! Lord protect me from projected rejection!!!
My own heart was a different story, however. I became aware of the need not so much to guard my heart--intercession precludes closing down spiritually--but rather, I learned to quickly take every heart hurt to the Lord. Otherwise, as I labored in prayer and cried out to the Lord on my children's behalf, I was crippled by the pain of those hurtful situations myself.
A similar phenomenon is occurring with my mother. Mom doesn't get many phone calls and has averaged no more than two or three visitors a year since she has lived with us. My children make it a point to stop by her room for five or ten minutes when they can, but this doesn't occur often. And yet, Mom is amazingly content. Although she loves visits and phone calls, she never complains when they are lacking, and will make excuse for those who fail to call or write to her. My heart is the one that withers with pangs of rejection!
I call it "projected rejection." I identify with my Mom and I think about how I would feel if I were in her place.
As a caregiver it is unexpectedly difficult to maintain a separate identity from the person who receives care--especially if that person is a loved one. Caring for Mom and working to understand her thinking patterns has led me to the point that I can very nearly see from her perspective, and sometimes the lines between my own experience and hers become blurred. My mom and I have always been so much alike. Now, that fact terrifies me. I fear becoming old and being forgotten. I suffer in advance the emotional pain of being rejected and feeling unloved--projected rejection indeed! It hasn't happened yet but I'm terrified that it might!
The Lord has not equipped me to handle a life with little interaction with friends because I am not the one who needs that particular armor--I am not my mother! I'm praying today to be able to separate my identity and where I am in my life's journey from that of my mother's, even as I care for her, anticipate her needs, and attempt to understand how she thinks.
It isn't easy! Lord protect me from projected rejection!!!
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