Mess
Aug 9 2012 in Denise's Blog, Weekly Comforts by Denise
Well, you may think, this is just a mess.
It could be that literally you stare at a mess–a stack of laundry that dates back two weeks, a sink that hold days of dirty dishes, a closet that spills from too much.
Or, it could be that you feel the mess. The stress of a caree’s decline seems to tear into the relationships you have with family members. The constant demands in the day mean you and your caree share too many curt words. The worry about the future makes the easiest tasks, like walking the dog, seem almost impossible.
Or you could simply be the mess: Too quick to tears, too much in confusion, too often in pity. Your hair is suddenly and uncontrollably frizzy. Or gone.
How do you clean up the messes–outside, around and in?
Start by telling the truth about what messes you up. Say it to your support group, your closest friend, your journal, us. And, remove judgement about the messes. Your judgements (“This is the worst!” “I’m awful at this!” “I’m the only with such a horrible life!”) help start this mess.
Simply speak what’s difficult for you, what you dread, what you fear. Because this is difficult, dreadful and frightening. With the truth told, you can move into finding and implementing solutions.
Your truth is like a broom brushing your messes into the corner so you can gather them up and quietly take them to the garbage. With the mess behind you, you’ll find yourself again.
Resources
- Love our weekly comforts? You’ll find more in our books, Take Comfort and Take Comfort, Too. You can purchase the eBooks (only $1.99 and available immediately for download) and print versions in our store.
- Wish you could listen to comforting words? You can purchase the CD sets of Take Comfort and Take Comfort, Too, which feature my voice reading to you. Purchase the CDs in our store.
Related Articles
- Wing (caregiving.com)
- Bubble (caregiving.com)
- Telling Your Truth So You Can Find Your Team
ejourneys said on August 9, 2012
This really resonates with me, Denise!
I pour it all out into my journal when I have to, starting with my fears:
1. Given the longevity in my partner’s family (2 grandmothers lived into their upper 90s and her mother is in her 90s now) and the fact that my partner is only 15 months older than I am, I’m looking at a potential 40+ more years of caregiving. Who will bury whom? Also, given that potential longevity of care, how long before we become destitute/lose everything?
2. What happens if/when I become incapacitated? I’ve set some mechanisms into place, but will they be implemented in time, or at all? My most heartbreaking decision was taking my POA away from my partner and finding someone willing to fill that role. It’s someone I like and respect, but whom I really don’t know as well as I’d like. What if she is never contacted and my partner ends up making decisions that she believes are helpful but that can cause me/us irreparable damage? Or what if she shuts down entirely?
3. What if everything I’ve worked so hard to put in place just falls by the wayside?
I’ve had to come to the conclusion that if it happens, it happens, and I’ll do the best I can. I see what other people here are coping with and that gives me courage that I can cope, too. My big bugaboo from my childhood is that when bad things happen, it’s my fault, and I’ve somehow been careless and squandered everything and hurt people in the process. On an intellectual level I know that’s patently false and ridiculous. On an emotional level it’s why I needed therapy so badly
and it still has the potential to sneak up on me (in much reduced but still powerful form) when I’m worn down. At those times I feel utterly trapped, helpless, and hopeless, and my inner existentialist has a field day (or, um, week).
I then get to the point where I feel I’ve lost all hope — and paradoxically, that turns me around, because hey, if it’s all hopeless, then why not make the best of what’s left?
I’m also learning to treasure my temperament, which is another way of saying, “That’s Ms. Mess to you!”
Pegi said on August 9, 2012
Literal messes have always been a source of conflict in our home. My husband’s health put him out of work a decade ago. For years I came home from work and stood there complaining while I cleaned up my kitchen, made my bed and straightened up the house. Imagine the early months of my retirement; just two months before things started going terribly wrong with my husband.! The nearly seven weeks he spent from hospital to rehab my house was always clean and clutter free. There also was no love, no silly voices and jokes my husband tells to make me laugh, no one to chatter with. My clean house was very lonesome. Now that we’re dealing with recovery as an out patient; my house looks like and unlicensed medical facility. There is clutter everywhere. We have medical appointments nearly daily and I’m always exhausted. My house is messy., but my heart is full of hope, caring and love for the man I live with. I recently told a friend to just come when she could; I don’t care about the mess. She told me it was about time!
Figuratively, this recovery is getting messy. The spinal surgery was suppose to help my husband regain the mobility in his legs. Surgery was May 31. Rehab has been going on since June 4. He still can’t stand even with a walker. The Therapist finally said it out loud at a recent vist; “we’re going to change out goal to standing with a walker and taking a few steps”. It’s a far cry from what we expected by now. It’s a mess in my head to think this could be as good as it gets. I don’t cry. I don’t scream. I just worry and stay anxious. There have been so many close calls; so many times I had to be strong for him; I seem to have become incapable of negative emotions for fear I will further upset him. So we’ll get up tomorrow morning; I’ll get him dressed; pack up that obnoxious wheelchair that’s still a bit too much for me to handle and I’ll smile and say “ready to go, Hon.” It’s what I know, and I guess that makes me kind of emotionally messy.