Alzheimer Caregiver Survivor

 

I am an Alzheimer Caregiver Survivor.  

Today a praise song began playing on my phone and caught me by surprise. My playlist had somehow been activated.  

 

I like to be prepared for praise.  It’s as though I carefully tuck grief into a drawer and close it firmly ahead of praising God, because otherwise, in praise of our Lord, I break down into sobs so virulent that I feel in danger of losing myself, of falling to my knees, of falling apart.   

 

I know it is not healthy to suppress grief.  But how is one to function otherwise?  

 

Mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in the spring of 2004 and died in 2020.  I was her primary caregiver. She was helpless, sweet, angry, vindictive, faithful, inspiring, devastating, and hurtful. I did my prayerful best by her.  Of course, I was not perfect, but an Alzheimer patient who has lost every filter and has a demented perception of reality can, without compunction, inflict injuries that a Godly person who is in their right mind will not parry. I rarely went on the offensive or even defended myself from Mom’s bouts of virulent anger. 

 

As the grief came bubbling up in my heart today, I brought my heartache to the Lord. Maybe only now, over two years since Mom’s death, am I able to begin to bring the injuries I received in caregiving to Him.  I don’t want to hold onto the pain, I want to be healed of it. 

 

Dear Father, lift me from these torrents of grief, heal me of the injuries dealt me by Mom’s rejection and anger, and restore to me the blessings those years of intensive caregiving took from me.  I can’t heal myself but I can acknowledge my need for healing; Father heal my heart.  In Jesus’ name I pray, amen.