Mom

My mother has Alzheimer's. She started to repeat herself over and over, forget things and be disoriented ten years ago. As her symptoms progressed, Ifelt the mother that I knew as my mother fading out of the picture more and more. My mother and I were very close. She was someone I could talk to about anything. She was an avid skiier past the age of seventy and had many friends. She participated regularly in her synagogue activities and was very generous to many charities. She was a warm loving woman. She also had this edge to her. She wasn't a person to be messed with. She could be critical and mean. She was smart and could use that intelligence to know exactly what to say to me that I would feel flattened by. One of my greatest life challenges was to learn to set clear boundaries with her because she could also be interfering and controlling if I let her. When I was a child I had two mothers:
One was eager to listen to me and interested in my life. She could show up emotionally and physically. I felt loved by her. The other mother would appear unexpectedly. As I grew older I began to recognize a certain tightness in her jaw as a sign to look out. She would be nasty and critical and mean-spirited for no apparent reason. She would slap me across the face. In therapy in my middle twenties I first realized that her raging had nothing to do with anything I actually did. Until then I believed that I had caused her anger and if only I was good enough and tried hard enough she would be happy and my other mother would return.
It was always confusing to me because I didn't know which mother I would get. I remember coming home from school with my stomach tied up in knots. I learned to be hyper-vigalent about her slightest unhappiness and to work really hard to make her happy. I learned to follow my father's example and stuff my anxiety under food. I learned to manage my discomfort by picking my nails and judging myself harshly.
After years of therapy, I learned to separate from my mother and to understand I couldn't make her happy. I learned more about where I left off and she started and about setting healthy boundaries to take care of myself in our relationship. She mellowed with age and seemed to realize that she couldn't guilt me into being happy according to what her pictures were of what happiness would look like for me.
As she aged she seemed to mitigate whatever pain had caused her raging and although she could still be very critical it seemed we were respecting each other's differences. We could be playful and have fun together much more easily. She had a silly side which meshed with mine and our little girls inside could play together and be goofy. We shared similar political views and a committment to service. She was my assistance at theLaughter Yoga Club I led at her independant living facility in Colorado Springs. As her symptoms worsened she moved to assisted living and then three years ago to an alzheimer's facility in New Mexico where my sister lives.
In the past few weeks Mom has been anxious and miserable and combative and angry. She is hitting caretakers and spitting out her medication. It is as if as part of her disease process, whatever defenses she was using to keep the rage in check have dissolved. My sister is exhausted from all the energy it is taking to deal with my mother's condition. She took her to a new doctor yesterday to try and get her medication stabilized. I feel guilty and helpless being far away and so grateful to my sister for all she does to care for my Mom. It's hard to see my Mom like this. I feel so much love for her and so sad that she is in so much pain. I try hard to be there for my sister and sometimes I just wish the whole thing would go away and I don't call my sister back as soon as I could. I feel guilty that my sister has so much of the burden of caring for my Mom.
What is all of this about for me? It's easy to trust in the universe when things are going well. It's way more challenging when I'm dealing with something I don't understand. Maybe this is about being present with all I am feeling and letting myself feel compassion for myself. That's quite a stretch when I am thinking about wishing my mother was dead. Did I really say that? It's quite liberating to admit that is true sometimes. When I really let the pain of all of this in I feel overpowering grief about losing my Mom and having her still be alive. The challenge is to feel it all. As I breathe into my sadness and the tears flow I can feel my heart expanding to make room for this. There is room in my heart for all of this-even this. Letting myself grieve really helps. When I let myself continue to cry and be with myself and allow myself to feel what I am feeling instead of stuffing it all under food, it really helps. That is my intention. Thanks for listening. It really helps to be heard, too.
Is there something you need to feel to make more room in your heart? Something you need to grieve or to let go of? Would you be willing to be with yourself and breathe, or write about it or talk with someone who cares about you? It really helps.