Category: acceptance

Posted on

How To Settle In

Have you ever heard the expression, ‘getting up on the wrong side of the bed’?

In case you haven’t, it is commonly understood to be the cause for waking up in a bad mood. You can’t think of any particular reason, but you know you’re sad, angry, testy, or otherwise unhappy.

I wondered about the origin of the saying. A little research produced a popular explanation based on superstitions that getting out of bed on the left side is bad luck. I presume that it originates from a time when beds were narrow and you had a choice of getting out on the right or left, without having to crawl over someone. It made me wonder, what if you always sleep on the left side of the bed…would you always start your day in a grumpy mood? Hopefully not.

Recently I woke up and felt as if I’d ‘gotten out on the wrong side of the bed’. For no reasons that I could think of, nothing felt right to me. My body ached and was uncomfortable, my mind was disjointed and there were lurking tasks to be completed, which I had no energy or ambition to accomplish.

Ordinarily I love getting up and doing my exercises, then journaling, before I come downstairs for breakfast.

But not that day.

So, what was I going to do about it?

If you’ve been with me on this journey for a while, you can probably guess. I opened up a conversation with god, in this case, Lia, a clear, beautiful feminine voice of grace and love who is always with me.

She explained, “There is an ebb and flow to life and your energy level, as there is for everyone. Accepting this reality fully will ease your mind and you can allow it to settle into you. Once you do this, your feelings will pass. If instead you decide to offer some resistance, like saying to yourself, ‘that it shouldn’t be this way’, your feelings are likely to persist. They can in fact pick up steam every time you invoke the word ‘should’. Trying to tell yourself you are some sort of victim, decreases your energy and power. So, if you’d like to do yourself a favor, allow whatever comes to you, to pass through you.”

This sounded like extremely good advice and yet I had a question about how I could ‘settle in’ to feelings I did not want to feel. I did know that resisting would be counterproductive, but what I needed to know was what alternative(s) were open to me.

So, I asked for more guidance and receive this, “You tell yourself it is okay to experience whatever you are experiencing and encourage yourself to accept whatever comes your way, knowing that once you do, the feelings will begin to recede and light will begin to enter you.”

Lia went on to say that each and every thing I encounter in my life is there to ‘serve’ me.

I balked a little at this. “Really?” I could hear myself say and then wondered if my constant questioning ever ‘bothered’ her.

“No,” was her reply, “never. I love you no matter what you choose and nothing you ever say to me will change that. Please remember that my love for you is eternal.”

I was reassured, but I still had a nagging question. I understood that by feeling my feelings, then releasing them, rather than holding on to them or resisting them, I could contribute to my own peace of mind and heart. What I could not understand was how she could say that everything I experienced in my life was there to ‘serve me’.

Lia explained that this is how our lives are structured, but that we often do not understand this because we don’t see it from a distance. We are too close to observe the whole picture, but that once we do, we can find the clarity we desire.

Lia told me we could have as many conversations about this as I needed…and so, I’d like to invite you to join me for my next post to discover more about how my/our experiences always ‘serve’ me/us.

Posted on

Choosing Your Memories

If someone asked you to share one of your memories, what would you choose to tell them?

Now imagine the same person asked you to share five or ten or fifty, how many of them would be ‘good’ memories?

If you were given a day or two to conjure up as many memories as you possibly could, how long would it take before you mentioned a ‘bad’ memory?

It fascinates me to consider what my answers to these questions would be. It feels like some sort of subtle test, a way to measure my satisfaction with my life.

I had an occasion recently to investigate this idea up close and personal. As my mom’s power of attorney, it was up to me to sign all the mortgage closing documents on her recent house sale.

I’d promised myself that I would walk through the house before the closing. I wanted a chance to capture the living memories I felt were stored there. I wanted to sweep them up and bring them with me. To store them somewhere safe inside me so that I could hold them, perhaps forever.

As I walked in the front door, the floodgates opened. I can’t recall the very first time I entered the home I grew up in and I that I have been a part of for over sixty years, but so many things stood there in front of me.

The house has so many interesting features and every inch of space is utilized. There is a shelf inset into the wall in the foyer. One of the shelves used to hold a small wooden ship I carved for my father. It had toothpick masts and thread rigging and it took me a long time to build. It’s not there anymore. I have no idea where it went.

I walked into the living room. A place where so many joyous family gatherings were held. A place where a mounted deer head rested above the fireplace. I’d bought it at a garage sale for 25 cents. I thought it was a great deal. I’m willing to bet the seller and his wife thought they’d made a profit. The deer head is gone now. I have no idea where it went.

On into the dining room, where all our family dinners happened. My mom was an excellent cook and I remembered many of the meals we ate there. If I stretched a bit, I could almost taste them. It became my mom’s reluctant bedroom, when it wasn’t safe for her to go up and down the stairs any longer.

Going from room to room brought more and more sweet memories. Words, sounds, feelings. The comings and goings of six decades. All the games, conversations, fears, hopes, and dreams. All the wonderful cookies after school, fresh out of my mom’s oven. The mad crazy ping pong games with my father in the basement, which was too short for our smashing forehands. All the imaginative games with my sister, one of which was pretending to be radio disc jockeys under the dining room table. Don’t ask me why that was our station headquarters. It just was.

Upstairs I walked down the hall to my bedroom. I could still see it as it was when I was a child, the placement of my desk and chair and bed, the Hopi Indian wall hanging, even the closet that had a sort of secret compartment where I stored my prized possessions.

My memory lane is long. The savoring, both touching and sweet.

Perhaps you’ve lived and lost some parts of you, a house, a family member, friend, favored pet or a lessening of your skills and senses. It happens.

What I think matters most to me is what I do with my memories.

Do I let the ‘bad’ ones overtake me, bringing me down and crushing me into silence and grief?

Or do I sift through them until all that are left are the golden, glowing, shiny memories. The ones I wish to keep and hold near to me.

The beautiful thing is, we each get to choose.

Posted on

Dementia’s Song

I’d like to share a very personal story with you, one that may resonate with your life experiences if you know someone with dementia.

No doubt this condition takes many routes. Some happen quite quickly. Others occur in a slow ebbing spiral, descending almost without notice, until one day the stark differences become painfully obvious.

It demands a very high emotional price, certainly from the one personally experiencing it, but also from those surrounding them. Watching the progression can be numbing, knowing there is so little that can be done.

Each person living through the changes must face their own emotional challenges, which of course are impacted by physical, mental, financial, and spiritual concerns.

I’m guessing that no two experiences are alike, but that there can be help and healing through sharing. That’s why I’m writing this post. I cannot know what assistance it may provide, but saying it here helps me and I hope it opens some doors for you.

Recently I awoke at 4:30 in the morning with a poem inside my mind, waiting for release, asking to be written. I hadn’t been expecting it, and yet it was there. So, I rose and wrote it down and felt a strong urge to put it into the world.

Here it is.

Dementia’s Song

I hope she knows me today.

My mother sits in her chair.

More than half faded from this life.

I cannot tell if she knows me.

And her stare gives nothing away.

I am left to wonder.

Is any part of her still here with me?

Once so sharp.

Now

With so few words.

Is there any promise for tomorrow

Or is that hope gone,

Like the sun winking out

At the end of the day

On the far horizon?

I wonder

Can I surrender

This fantasy inside of me

That I have any control

Over her staying?

I wonder too

Will her love remain

Here with me

When she finally leaves?

Perhaps that is for my heart to decide.

I want it to be so.

I hope she knows me today.

This was written after I’d visited my mom only to discover she didn’t seem to know me anymore. It left me fully disoriented, my world upside down. How could we have had such a good interactive conversation just the day before? Hours ago, that’s all, just a few hours.

I watch her trying to assemble words into sentences. The words will not come. They are like a skittish kitten hiding under a bed. The more you try to coax them to come out, the further they retreat from you.

Something obvious occurs to me.

I have no control. I cannot do anything to change this. I feel helpless.

And another thing occurs to me. Perhaps she feels the exact same way.

I wonder, how am I to deal with this?

A word shines brightly inside of me, grabbing my attention.

Acceptance.

It doesn’t mean I don’t try to help or be supportive, but it does mean I accept the reality we are experiencing. The wisdom inside this teaches me to accept all outcomes. It alerts me that my suffering is caused by my resistance to accept what is.

It is important for me to feel my feelings, to dive headlong into them, rather than trying to avoid them, even though I know it will be painful. By now, I know that it is far less painful to acknowledge my feelings, rather than a prolonged avoidance or resistance to letting them come into the light.

So, I will try to sit with no expectations and just be with her, accepting what each of us is experiencing and centering in love, as best as I can.