Under The Umbrella of Dementia’s Grip

Whether death is sudden or lingering and expected, grief steals from us; it robs us of our joy and sends us down a turbulent river of emotions.

A dear friend was diagnosis with dementia a decade ago. At the onset of his prognosis, there was little change in character. But in the last five years, and especially in the last six months, his disease rapidly progressed, and sadly, he lost his battle last week.

Often when we hear the word dementia, we presume memory loss. But dementia is so much more than that. Memory loss does indeed create a profound anguish because memories are the foundation of who we are. But on the whole, dementia encompasses a vast range of loss and sorrow, filled with many outpouring of emotions, bringing grief and loss to the forefront of our daily lives.

Because I had witnessed my friend's dementia unfold, it made me more aware of how much grief and loss are combined and present for caregivers and family members dealing with this disease. Before seeing the disabling characteristics of dementia first-hand, I mostly considered the words grief and loss (when used in tandem) to be associated with death. But long before there is any closure with death, the people involved must move through the agony of the anticipated losses that gradually steal the personal bond they once shared with their loved one. And once death does finally come, it's usually accompanied by a mixture of sorrow and relief: sorrow because their loved one is no longer with them, and relief because suffering has ended.

Dementia, however, is not a one size fits all. It’s a unique set of experiences for the individual and their family.

In my friend's case, there were times when this disease caused his brain to misfire, leaving him lost and frustrated. But there were other times when moments of normalcy had crept back to the surface, bringing joy and laughter into our lives.  

It can be a long emotional journey watching the person we love slip away from us, the person that may now not even know us. So we must savor those moments of normalcy. Because even when they become a rarity, they are still a precious gift of hope for all who are fearful and struggling under the umbrella of dementia's grip.

Thirty-Five Years Married—Finding Love After Abuse

Derick and I met at a community college, located at a midway point between our hometowns. I was 19. And he was 18.

I had entered this college because it offered an upgrading program for me to complete my General Education Diploma (GED). Derick was there taking a Welding trade, which he has never used to gain employment. (But I am so thankful he decided to take it! I'll chalk it up to fate!)

I remember how our classrooms were around the corner from each other and how every morning Derick's whistles would echo behind me as I walked by him. I should have been flattered that this hot, blue-eyed guy was admiring me. In fact, one time I would have loved all the attention, and I probably would have even shaken my booty at him. But Derick's boldness left me uncomfortable.

At 19 years of age, I had already been in two abusive relationships. I escaped one only to fall into another, the last one ending six months before I entered college. So my emotional scars were still very much present. My self-esteem was damaged, and I had a negative mindset with regards to trust and dating and even love. In my young life, it had only shown itself to be abusive, untrustworthy, controlling, and manipulative. And besides, I had entered college for the sole purpose of obtaining my GED. I didn't need any distractions; I only wanted to achieve a better life.

It's not easy re-engaging in the dating scene after abuse. (In my case, abusers.) The question always at the forefront of my mind was, "Will he abuse me? " and it held me back from Derick's persistence of wanting to date me. It would be months before I said yes. And I am so glad I did. He mirrored love in my life in ways I had never experienced before. It was a love that would take us down the aisle two years later.

We by no means went on to have a fairytale marriage. It has been far from perfect. Through busy careers, parenthood, sickness, grief, lack of intimacy, it all, at times, left us wondering if our love would stand the test of time.

However, here we are today celebrating a marriage milestone of 35 years. Our love has not only evolved, but it has indeed stood the test of time, for better, for worse, in sickness and health, until death do us part...

Do you believe in fate? I sure do!

Navigating The Waters of Friendships

God has taught me so much about the value of healthy relationships, and the wisdom necessary to obtain them.

Many of us in today's world communicate through social media: It gives us avenues to connect with family and friends. It also provides a means for one's voice to be heard.

If given a choice, however, I would still prefer the physical realm of friendship. I find there's a more profound connection through the sharing of our stories face-to-face.   

Don't get me wrong. I write snippets about my life here on my blog, and I do hope it helps my readers navigate through similar situations. Furthermore, if I aspire to be a great writer/storyteller, I also know there's a certain amount of vulnerability that goes along with it. But not at the expense of having my life totally exposed. Seeing the political scene continue to play out on social media in the USA is a blunt reminder of the scrutiny created through its use. So for me, there are certain aspects of my life I would rather not share with the cyber world.

But whether it's in the cyber world or the physical world, some acquaintances and friends will come and go. It's a fact of life. Because life is a sequence of events, and sometimes these events not only alter us but they change the circle of people we associate with as well.

When Derick and I became a Christian, for example, our circle of friends changed. Some remained acquaintances but most drifted away. And our circle of friends changed (yet again) when our daughter came out gay.

During our daughter's coming out, we attended a church that was very conservative, and at times they exhibited a harmful stance toward homosexuality. Many felt our daughter needed fixing, and that our love for her should be conditional. Derick and I tried to conform to what they deemed acceptable, all the while our daughter's life hung in the balance. But thankfully, unconditional love did find a way to prevail. I shudder to think of the implications had we chosen a different path.

When facing life's storms, ask God to navigate you back to the friendlier waters of life. He created us not only to desire the bond of a family but of friendship as well. And sometimes He even blesses us with friends that become like family. These friends are, indeed, a rarity, and a true gift from above.

Mid-Life Funk

 I am turning 58. Oh my gosh! My best years are now over!

It sounds extreme, doesn't it? But it's how I have been feeling lately.

I have always been a firm believer that age is only a number; however, turning 58 has stirred something up inside me, leaving me in a bit of a funk.

Could it be that I am going through a late stage mid-life crisis?

Or is it just an awakening to the true meaning of midlife?

I believe it's the latter.

In our younger years, my husband and I shared the belief that working hard and earning a good living would enhance the pursuit of happiness, for our children as well as ourselves. And now that we are empty-nesters, nothing makes us happier than to see both of our kids self-reliant, with great careers. So, in a sense, our belief did our family well.

But our mindset has since changed, and even though middle age can still present its financial challenges for some, our priority inevitably shifted from money to health concerns.

Fortunately, I have been blessed with excellent health so far. And I have never been more grateful for how life has afforded me the means to retire early and pursue my dreams. But with age comes the wisdom of knowing that money doesn't mean much if our health becomes compromised.

Having seen many develop health problems in my age group does scare me, making me realize that so many didn't get to reach 58, and so many won't get to reach 58. My mother died at 56. My brother died at the age of nine. So, intellectually, I know that I am grateful for life as it is, but when your body is in a funk, your body is in a funk. And many times, it defies explanation.

So what helps me lift this dark cloud?

My faith in God and humanity play significant roles.

Writing helps to free its hold over me.

Having people come alongside in a supportive, nonjudgmental way, who listen with an understanding ear, is very significant to me as well.

Exercise, lots of rest, and a well-balanced diet are also key factors that help me to get through my funk.

What about you? Do you find yourself in a funk these days?

If so, don't hide it. Talk about it. Write about it. Being vulnerable will help others know that they are not alone. But above all else, find the means that works best for you.

On the upside, the clouds have already lifted for me, and my fears of turning 58 have already subsided. Besides, 60 is the new 50 today, right?

Reflections of Imperfections

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. It sees or observes a thing or a person and is subjective based on or influenced by personal feelings, taste, or opinions.

Wouldn't it be great if we could view our lives through the lens of nature? Because even with all its deformities, we still see nature's beauty; we are still captivated by the transformation the different seasons bring, looking beyond its imperfections and accepting the natural order of its creation.

But when we look through the lens of humanity, many of us tend to have a harder time accepting the fact that we are imperfect beings, yet still beautifully created.

Why is this?

Is it because the world's perception of beauty is ingrained by social media to be one of perfection; therefore, seen through the lens of a standardise physical beauty?

Does this idea of perfection eventually creep inward and mask our inner beauty as well?

I am not saying that fitting the mould of physical beauty is, in itself, a bad thing, or that we shouldn't care about our physical appearance. But if we look beyond our imperfections; if we learn to embrace and accept and unmasked them, we will find the true essence of beauty in its rarest form, a beauty that captures the glow of the soul.

I know this to be true in my life. Because while there are some physical features that I can't change about myself, the insecurities ingrained in me from my childhood was something that I could change. Ultimately, I was the one allowing them to gain power over the deception of my imperfections. I was the one choosing to live in the shadow of my past.

Accepting that I am an imperfect being residing in an imperfect world has not only been life-changing for me, but it has deepened my connection with others as well.

Turn your scars into beauty.

You are more than your imperfections.

You are a unique individual.

You are one of a kind, fearfully and wonderfully made by our Creator.

His power is made perfect in your imperfections.

Platitudes in Grief

Grief holds no boundaries. I am neither the exception from it nor am I an expert on it. My greatest teacher on this sensitive subject, however, has been my losses. 

To better understand grief's aftermath, I enrolled in a course that mainly focuses on Grief and Loss Counselling, with an emphasis on a counselor's role while assisting the bereaved. And it has opened my eyes to the wrongful use of platitudes in grief: 

" I know how you feel." 

" Your loved one is in a better place." 

" At least your loved one didn't suffer."

" Time heals all wounds."

" Everything happens for a reason."

" You should be over your grief by now."

" Your loved one would have wanted you to move on."

" Be strong." 

" Keep the faith."

Most of us (myself included) have used these platitudes with good intentions, though.

No doubt, for some, there is a certain level of discomfort and awkwardness when they are face-to-face with a bereaved person. They are fearful of saying the wrong thing but feel the need to, at least, say something, so they use platitudes in hopes of offering some support. But rarely do they have the outcome that one intended. If anything, it can minimize the bereaved person's pain. Saying I am sorry or simply being there with a reassuring hug or a listening ear is often enough. 

Grief, though universal to us all, is unique to the individual. 

Are You Ready for CHRISTmas?

Most of us who celebrate Christmas have asked (or been asked) the question: “Are you ready for Christmas?” What it usually implies is whether or not we are caught up on our Christmas shopping, or whether or not we have our Christmas tree and house decorations on display yet. The answer, however, really depends on the individual’s perspective of the season and the family traditions that they may follow.

In our home, Derick and I are creatures of habit. Each year we pull out the same old strings of multi-colored lights. And each year, it never fails, there’s bound to be one or two (sometimes more) burnt out bulbs on any given string. Derick is convinced that they add character to the illumination and reminds me that life isn’t perfect. From an analogy perspective, I tend to agree. Because these multi-colored lights that are randomly hanging in their imperfect splendor remind me of our wonderful Nation, Canada; a nation with a broad ancestral pool, diverse in many different cultures, and, for the most part, functioning as one race; the human race. We are not a perfect nation, per say. But we do tend to embrace each other’s differences and are known as a Nation that radiates kindness toward one another.  

These multi-colored lights that connect each other to a power source also remind me of a hopeful future, a reminder that as different as we are, we are all created equal under God. And if we work together, we can connect one another to the power source of His love. 

If you are fortunate enough to represent one of the brightly lit bulbs this year, feel blessed. And remember to be the light that illuminates the burnt out bulb beside you. Perhaps for them this year, they are mourning the loss of a loved one. Or perhaps it’s their first Christmas of being all alone. Or perhaps they have lost their job and are now struggling to get by. Whatever the reason, be open to reaching out. Let your light shine. In doing so, you will capture the beauty of the CHRISTmas light, the One who can illuminate us all.