Both seem to be sending me in the same direction. I guess you could say I am struggling a bit with life right now. Russ Parkinson's, in and of itself, is huge. Being the caregiver is not always pretty; actually I often feel the nag. I parcel out directives... stand tall, heel toe, stabilize, we leave in 10 minutes, how can I help, shall I cue you...? It is all necessary, it is what we both must endure, but we each, in our own way, feel the pain of healthy time slipping away.
Honestly, it becomes so much more pleasant to 'remember'. Is this called aging? How many people in your life have aged and are in a state of remembering and not actual living? I believe we will all be there one day; Russ and I are on the balance beam of that notion right now.
Think of the phrases you hear... "I have my good days and my bad days", "Some days are better than others", "Fake it til you make it", and my personal favorite right now is, "Oh, I'm good-ish". Many older folks stop by my desk during the work week and I often ask "How are you today?". A common response is "Well, I'm on the right side of the ground!" Honestly, I find none of this depressing, just real. Life is not all happy and carefree. Each of us has 24 hours in our day and we each get to choose how we spend those hours. Will we be generally happy or somewhat miserable? Some unknown person said: "Being happy doesn't mean that everything is perfect. It means you've decided to look beyond the imperfections." And as I've said, 'I have my good days and my bad days.'
That is our balance beam struggle right now, as a couple and as individuals. How does one face illness with intention and integrity, allowing reality to be the daily guide in each 24 hours, day after day. How do we let a pity party in for a peek, but not make it a life? How do we live with that vulnerability? How do we embrace the fact that happiness is a moment-to-moment choice? It can be utterly exhausting trying to be happy or perfect or strong or healthy all the time. I just have to be real and know that day to day the outter wrapping of my reality may be different, but I get to choose how to interrupt it.
“If you hold back on the emotions--if you don't allow yourself to go all the way through them--you can never get to being detached, you're too busy being afraid. You're afraid of the pain, you're afraid of the grief. You're afraid of the vulnerability that loving entails. But by throwing yourself into these emotions, by allowing yourself to dive in, all the way, over your head even, you experience them fully and completely.”
"Tuesdays With Morrie" by Mitch Albom