Tag: recovery

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Spousal Support

I’ve been immersed in caring for my mother for the past four years, and with her recent move across country to a memory care home five minutes from my house, life  slowly comes back into focus. She’s safely nestled in her new place, and this brings me the peace to move forward.

I write daily now and bond with my dogs on morning runs. My schedule’s filled with volunteering and petsitting, trail runs and lunches with girlfriends.

And in the frenzy of resuscitating my life, I overlooked the most important relationship of all: my marriage.

“Hearing about your mother stresses me out,” he admitted last night, as I told him about my latest visit. “None of this has been easy for me.”

Hearing him vocalize his feelings, as rare as rain in our desert digs, hit me with the impact of a summer monsoon. He’s a no-nonsense, bottom-line guy, the kind who solves a problem and immediately moves on. The raw emotion in his voice was a wake-up call.

The mother-daughter bond is stronger than it’s ever been, and my marriage is solid. But some reassembly is required. So we’re planning a long-needed summer vacation. Booking movie dates and going out to dinner.

He was there for me in my early sobriety. He was there for me when I quit my job and moved to Maine with my mom. Now, it’s time for me to be there for him.

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Church Ladies

My childhood religion was faith-based. Church twice a week. Daily Bible study. A loving God.

Disease was denied. No medicine, hospitals, doctors. Alcohol and drugs were forbidden.

My world changed when my parents divorced.

Trading the blind faith of religion for first-hand life experiences with various substances was absolute freedom. I didn’t doubt God’s existence; I just forgot Him.

After a quarter-century, the experiment failed. Plunged into the darkness of addiction, I sought God again.

Something bigger than me has kept me sober for two decades. And until recently, my resentment toward religion had evaporated into the ether.

Respecting my mother’s denial of Alzheimer’s isn’t easy. She may forget people, or that she’s moved across country, but she hasn’t forgotten God.

The Universe has a sick sense of humor. We’re now attending her new church together and her joy slowly outweighs my antipathy.

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New Beginnings

This year, I’m taking my life back. Sounds selfish, doesn’t it?

In reality, I’m just one piece of the puzzle.

The other pieces? My husband. Our marriage. And my mother.

As primary caregiver to a mother with Alzheimer’s, I’ve given up a lot over the years. Career. Life with my husband. Friends. And I’ve given a lot. Time. Compassion. Love.

Now it’s time for a new beginning. The sensory overload of the holidays, combined with subzero temperatures and a marked decline in her abilities make it clear that mom needs more help than I can give.

I’ll move her out west, where I’ve lived for thirty-odd years. It won’t be easy, but we’ll get through it together.

Regaining my life isn’t a resolution, if I live a day at a time. Every day, I try to do a little better.

Every day, a new beginning.