What Dementia Taught Me: Part 1

If I’m really honest, I was afraid of my Mom. I talk a lot about how angry she made me, how we fought and how she could push my buttons, but underneath all of that, I was afraid of her. I was afraid of her yelling at me, how she could trigger painful feelings in me, her opinion and her judgment. I spent a lot of years in therapy, even getting a degree in psychology to figure out how I could heal and adjust my behavior and attitude in our relationship.

I had made a lot of progress but she still had the ability to set me off and get me to engage in a snarky, mean back and forth that I hated and could ruin me for days. I knew she loved me and knew I loved her, but finding that reality in the midst of a catfight was so difficult.

Imagine, then, my absolute terror when I committed to caring for her. Even though I acknowledged that I was scared out of my mind, the terror manifested in anger, bad temper, night sweats, insomnia, and anxiety. I was trapped, lost, freaked out and had no patience whatsoever.

Something had to give because I was losing my mind and was highly stressed constantly. I was going through the motions of caring for my parents but it felt awful. I was nervous all the time and dreaded waking up in the morning.

My prayers were answered one a day when I caught my Mom in the throes of her Dementia. The poor thing was trying to interpret the information on a big calendar I had on the refrigerator. She was pointing to a doctors appointment on a date and looked so confused and frightened. I could see she had no idea how to understand what it meant. My heart sank and I was flooded with grief, sadness, and empathy. If she were a stranger I would be bursting into tears at this sad, devastating moment and want to run and help them. This wasn’t a stranger but my Mom. My strong, proud Mom who always had an answer for everything. Now she was lost at sea in a terrible storm. I had to save her and I had to make her feel loved and safe. I never looked at her the same again. Empathy had come to visit me and decided to stay. I can’t honestly say I was consistent or that it was easy to let the anger and resentment go and  I never did it perfectly but something changed that day. I became softer, more gentle, and somehow able to show the love I had deep inside to her more often than not.

Dementia put things into perspective for me. This disease and all the damage and suffering it caused made me realize that so much that had bothered me in my relationship with my Mom was petty, inconsequential and not at all important. Here was someone I loved who had done the very best she could to care for me and she was devastated and permanently scarred. She was simply asking to feel safe, calm and protected. It would be cruel for me to offer her anything less. Even her anger, frustration and anxiety should be handled with grace and compassion, without being taken personally. I had committed to caring for her and dementia was teaching me to care for her with respect, kindness and unconditional love.

I was still frightened but of something else rather than my Mom. I became uneasy and scared I couldn’t help her, that I couldn’t make her despair go away fast enough or even go away at all. I became scared that my time with her was disappearing in front of eyes. I was frightened she was hurt, or fearful or unreachable. I was afraid of the heartache we were all suffering. I slowly learned to accept these fears. Dementia was teaching me that, too. I learned to cope with heartache and worry, fear of the future and the feeling of helplessness. By sitting in the moment and in all of these emotions, I was in the middle of a master class with Dementia as the teacher.

I would give my right arm not to have lost my Mom to this disease or even to have some of the suffering taken away. What I would never want to be changed, are the lessons I  learned at the hands of such a mighty teacher. I am better for them. I was given a chance to heal my relationship with my Mom and consider that a gift I will cherish forever. I no longer remember being frightened by her, now I just remember being frightened for her.