Create a list of 3 things in your life that makes you happy

Create a list of 3 things in your life that makes you happy

My list comes to mind almost simultaneously: 

Freedom from fear

       

                Freedom from anxiety

                     Breathing, listening, living

Freedom of fear

Freedom from anxiety

Breathing, listening, living

For the longest time (most of my married life, actually) I blamed myself for the shortcomings in our marriage. I tried to fix the relationship but I couldn't, of course.  And, of course now I know my husband was most likely already experiencing antecedents of onset of Alzheimer's. It was the beginning of a lengthy battle of hopelessness and helplessness and fear: fear of raising my son alone, fear of starting over. At times it was paralyzing.

Our war with Alzheimer's began eighteen years ago when Bill was 40. My God has lifted me up and carried me above and continues to do so thanks to my deep desire to believe in my Higher Power (I have faith in Jesus) and, thank God, am drawn towards wellness and peace and focus on spirituality and faith. I am surrounded by my family who know only how to love. I am embraced by my beautiful friends, old, new, and renewed. Despite what my eyes can see, despite what my ears can hear, I have found peace in my life.

Many years ago when I was but seven years in my marriage, I asked the Lord to heal my marriage, to give me strength to overlook the hurt and pain, and the ability to live "until death do you part." I believe God has shown me that I am much stronger than I feared I was.  I have found peace in my life. Oh, I face sadness when I visit my husband today and see a whisper of the man I married. Ironically, his demeanor is so very close to the man I fell in love with that I find myself almost forgetting our past. Maybe forgetting is another answer to prayer? All I know is that I am learning to let go of fear, let go of anxiety, and open myself up to happiness. Anyone else want to join me?

Speaking to my soul

Parable of Immortality 

by Henry Van Dyke: 

I am standing upon the seashore. 
A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. 
She is an object of beauty and strength, and I stand and watch until at last she hangs like a speck of white cloud 
just where the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other. 
Then someone at my side said "There she goes!" 
Gone where? 
Gone from my sight...that is all. 
She is just as large in mast and hull and spar 
as she was when she left my side 
and just as able to bear her load of living freight to the place of destination. 
Her diminished size is in me, not in her. 
And just at the moment when someone at my side says "There she goes!" 
there are other eyes watching her coming..... 
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout.... 
"Here she comes!"

She sits alone on the porch swing  Christmas present her son made for her an his woodworking class just last year.  Looking back over the past year she questions whether any of her memories were her own or if they belonged to someone else.  It all seemed so unreal.



It was one of his proudest moments. 

These Moments

These Moments

I am mesmerized by the beauty of the stars. I do not always, however, appreciate the opportunities available to take advantage of. 

Rushing to get into my house from my car last night, I happened to glance up. There it was: our Milky Way. The stars creating the beautiful Milky Way were a vivid, glowing entity;  a body of energy; another dimension in my world. The sky was so black, so contrary in comparison to the glowing clusters of stars. I could imagine myself diving into clouds, and being blanketed within the waves of stars which were flowing ribbons in my sky. It was a moment of grounding, a moment of peace. It was beautiful.  

Why hasn't anybody written a manual yet?

"I want to go the ocean. I want to drive a car. I want to be with my family. I am walking a fine line between being me and being lost; swept away. I want to go home. Why can't I go home? I will do the laundry and do the dishes and do the cleaning. Why won't you take me home? I can't stand this anymore." Your words were jumbled, your tears and sobs ripped through me, leaving me exposed with tears streaming down my cheeks.

We sit, side by side, shivering with tears and
distress. Confusion straps you in a roller coaster of delusions, magnificent and erratic. And all I can do is comfort you as coherent thoughts fade in and out and you try with all your might to remember, try to reshuffle the cards, spilling them like cards, falling flailing all over the floor; and one by one, your words are gone, your thought a fading memory. Rage follows, intruding in your attempts to remember, then anguish over broken brain circuits, broken dreams, and dead ends.


We have just attended Jack's high school graduation. The crowds made you feel unsafe, lost. You clung to your dad and to me, trying to remember why we were in the gymnasium with people, so many people. Trying to help you find your son, recognize your son, track as your son receives his diploma. You try, and the lights leave your eyes as the fog of this dementia once again forms a wall between you and your life.

You calm, and fall asleep. I continue to weep silently, thinking about the good times, all the dreams we hoped for.  Holding your hand, I watch you sleep, praying for peace but watching you struggle and cry out, "no, no." hands flying in the air as you attempt to fight the dragons in your dreams.

I pray for you. I choke on life cheating you as going on with life, enjoying our boy, laughing, playing, soaking in the warm sun and watching the milky way for hours in the deep of the night. I am so grateful for my life. I am so sorry I can not fix this for you. I hold back bursts of emotions, riding right there on my shirt sleeve because I am afraid of those emotions. They represent a lifetime with you of good and bad. Sometimes they hold me back from healing.

I wish there was a manual for this. I really do. But for now I do the best that I can.

A moment of truth. Beware. This may be too honest for you.

Sometimes knowing Bill is in a nursing home and I am out here in the world fills me with guilt and a sad affect. It can feel unbearable. I'm not sure if it is feeling guilty or feeling like I need to protect him. I've always done that. I've always been the fixer and I have always viewed marriage as a sacred vow to my Grandma Keller. She sat me down many times to tell me how special I was and to talk to me about picking my future husband. Choose a good man because forever is a long, long time was the message I heard from all my close family members. And I wanted that more than anything. We were a family of belly-wrenching laughter, of guitar sessions in the bedrooms, of entire groups of family singing around the piano. We were the Brady Bunch, the Partridge Family, and the Scooby Doo kids all in one. Thank God it was that way. Thank God. I would live happily ever after or die trying. I nearly have succeeded in the latter more than once, I am sorry to say. 

I realize now how difficult it must have been for Bill. I was all about family and he had very little to base his actions on. He had no siblings, he had lost his mom to cancer when he was in his senior year, ironically the same age Jack is now. I came with parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, a brother and his wife, and five nephews and nieces. He was a loner, estranged from his father since the painful death of his mama. When I look back, I think he actually began to change the moment we said "I do." I went from being his lover and adventurist to being the wife and one more responsibility in his never satisfied life. Bill always ached for more. It was medals in the service, recognition and a silver star award, education, a good job, more education, a better job, the raise, the promotion, the new shiny car, more education, a new career, more education.... Still we laughed, loved, and focused on our future. Still, there was always this aching need for Bill.... 

Our marriage wasn't a bad marriage. It was merely crowded, I believe is how Princess Diana put it when referring to Camilla. He had a lover for many years. Many years.  I don't know if there was anyone else before I had cancer, and I can honestly say our marriage ended, if somewhat briefly, right after our two year battle with chemo and radiation. It was an event that would have taken a champion boxer down in two rounds. He left after the doctors determined me in remission. He was gone for ten days. He came home and I took him back with open arms, so grateful for another chance. We healed; well, mostly healed, and we had Jack two years later. 

They met when our son was four, and were a couple until three years ago. I fought and actually left on four occasions. I loved Bill, and was easily swayed to try again, that things were over, and so forth. After so many years I guess I became numb to it. I confronted it when the evidence was blatant, knowing in my heart it would never be over. Still, I stuck to my vows, wearing them now like a ball and chain. Ahhh, hindsight.  I stuck with it, for better and for worse. Til Death Do You Part...I've heard it said that we can be our worst enemies. We, in essence as human beings make our own traps. My trap was I was being one of those girls that believed in happily ever after. 

I stuck with it and stuck with it until it was too late. He was diagnosed with Alzheimer's and now I am stuck in a sense. In another sense I am free. I am free of the  past couple of years and the domestic violence we experienced in our home. He has no memory that he divorced me to stay out of the nursing home. It has taken me over a year since Bill entered the nursing home, but I honestly feel I am healing from all of this past. I have been able to face and balance a hate and near bitterness with a peace that this part of my life is over. 

I have reached a level of forgiveness for Bill. It's helped me with my grief and in helping me be a better person. I can now look at the 15 year relationship with his mistress from a distance. I realize I had the power to stop all the pain many years ago. I just couldn't. I wanted my happily ever after and I loved my husband. 

This past has made my healing process both difficult and easier. I look at my husband today and almost forget all of the negative things we endured. He is fragile and sad and lonely. I sometimes feel an undying need to be at his side, to protect and heal as I have always done. 

Lately, Bill has forgotten it was me he was talking to many times. He started reminiscing about his times spent with Diana, talking about things they have done together, feelings unresolved, and. He asked me once if I "thought that was why Lyn put (me) in here (nursing home). It had almost killed her."  It did indeed. 

I decided to contact his lover about a month ago. It was time for me to put the past behind me, to relinquish control and the attempt to protect my own heart, and to allow him to resolve any lose ends or unresolved feelings in their life together. So I emailed, telling her where he is and why he dropped out of her life so suddenly. I knew they loved each other deeply to remain together after all these years. For the first time, it did not matter any more to me. It was behind me. 


And she did visit him, shortly after that. Staff said he didn't appear to have any acknowledgement or seem to remember her. He told them he thought she might have been an army buddy? Of course words are greatly jumbled when he speaks. I feel at peace because I gave him and her the opportunity to close any lose ends the may have in their relationship. I did it because I am free now and they can't hurt me any more. I'm by far not a hero. .... it seemed the humane thing to do. And I am free. Free to continue to love, to live, to look back without sadness. My freedom is not in terms of an ugly, angry divorce but in being healed. My heart sings again.

The Visit 4/2/12

 It's only been an hour since I called him but he's forgotten and all ready eating his lunch. The nursing home rushes to accommodate my change in plans. Bill looks at me, slow to react as if he were drifting out to sea all alone on a small vessel. His eyes are distant, cold, not recognizing me.

We eat lunch together and then move on to his room- room 405.  We start the video for memories. We talk about the weekend and the 4-wheeler ride I took him on over the weekend. It was quite the scene. My family sat back and laughed  because Bill was hell fire certain he was going to ride that bike by himself. Jack and I looked in horror and disbelief. We had gotten him on the bike. Would we ever get him off? Jack tried to squeeze in the front, but Bill held his grip on the handle bars firmly, chanting, "oh, no, Bill wants to ride. Bill wants to ride." I finally squeezed up front, and scootched his little ass back to the edge of the seat. I held his hands, and said, "You better hold on." I took off on the four wheeler, killing the engine twice. Bill did his best to say his hail Mary's and help me Jesus's. I revved that puppy up and off we went. I could hear Bill scream, "help me, help me..." then break out in thunderous laughter and then he whispers, thank you. This is nice."

I stay as long as I can, but the time to work is closing in. We talk about our next outing, as I try to offer him hope that I will return. I question am I hurting him or helping him? It feels harsh and heavy to leave, to go forward with freedom and a whole mind and a whole body. I know at home his determination to be free, to drive a vehicle, to come and go as he pleases is not safe for him or for us, as frustration in Bill can be violent and difficult to control. It is difficult to ignore the pain he is going through. 

I was robbed today

I was robbed today. I thought I protected myself. I thought I had covered all the bases. I'm stunned. I'm pissed. I feel like a victim. I feel like a fool. Humiliated,
humbled, shocked, embarrassed, stunned.... ok, how many adjectives can I possibly come up up? Oh, wait. Debased, disgraced... how do I tell my 75 year old mom that I was taken, robbed, that I owe another $5000 out there to my bank, now. Humiliation is a hard pill to swallow.



I was in my second week of training for my new job. I had posted my
resume/vitae on several business and academic type job search sites.  There was an interview. There was the offer. It was, in deed, a job too good to be true. It wasn't going to make me rich, but it had full benefits. It had insurance. And I would work from home.

I didn't answer right away. There were red flags. Was it legit? I read everything that was sent to me. I did internet searches. I talked to a couple of business friends. None of us could find anything on this company. It was out there, easy to find. It looked legitimate.

They needed to be able to transfer funds to me through my account. "Red flag" was my first thought. How much access would they have to my account?  They only needed to make deposits in my account. It was set up like a direct deposit, something I have done many many times. I know, I know. What were you thinking?

None of us considered the angle this company took.

For a full week, I trained: I read the site employee manual, learned about the steps in the process would complete. I talked to my bank to get information on guidelines for federal wires, limits on daily withdrawals, and so forth. Finally, this morning when I logged on, I found my first task assignment.

At 9 am promptly, I contacted my bank to learn my deposit was in my account and it was available for withdrawal. The bank initiated a 24 hour hold on the check, concerned with the authenticity of the source of the money. I waited patiently, feeling pretty confident that this was a legit company. After a few hours, the bank's main branch released the deposit, as they also could find no history of fraud or negative business.


I withdrew the deposit (not one penny of this withdrawal was mine. Feeling confident.)  I wired the money. I completed and closed the task. I felt good. I completed my first task successfully, earned a small commission, and earned a plus in the eyes of my new employer (I hoped). I got home, checked my Task Manager Office and learned I was awarded a $50 bonus. I was thrilled. I was seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. I had finally found a job that was going to provide my son and I with insurance and the chance to pay off the ongoing growing pile of bills accumulating since we first moved home when Bill was diagnosed with Alzheimer''s.

At four o'clock my bank called. The check used to make the deposit to my account had been found to be fraudulent. The funds would be withdrawn from my account. I was accountable for almost $5000.

All I wanted was a job. I moved here so I could take care of my family. Now that is what I want to do: I want to meet the needs of my family. I do not want to get rich. I do not want a free road. I want to earn an earnest living that pays the bills, provides the protection of health insurance.




I do not understand this evilness I have experienced today. Get behind me.

Tomorrow I work on applications again.