Pivots.
2019 - we haven’t always been this happy.
Right after we moved into our new home in 1997, we planned a big party to celebrate our trifecta of milestones: the birth of our daughter, Hollis, moving into our new home, Kroft Castle, and our 1st wedding anniversary. Ahhh, we haven’t always been this happy.
As I obsessed over every little detail, (because I was a psycho planner back in those days) we were bickering ~ like we usually did. But for people who didn’t know us, {like the new neighbors who were helping us set up} they were surprised and definitely a little taken aback as I snipped at him and he snapped back at me. Hey. It was our early years… we haven’t always been this happy.
My husband uttered that one line (that has saved us multiple times over the past 30 years, I might add). He didn’t miss a beat. We just glanced at our neighbors, made no apology as he put it out there, and we all burst into laughter.
That one line was going to be the title of the book he was planning to write about our blended lives. The highs and lows of raising 5 children, with the hope that other fathers might avoid the missteps and mistakes he made along the way with his ex, me and the kids, but that book is lost now.
“We haven’t always been this happy.” ~ Michael Kroft, via Jimmy Buffett, circa 1997
And so, the pivots began.
Pivot.
What is a pivot? To me, it’s when I’m cruising along and trying to make some progress, only to take a step, have your foot ‘stick’ and realize you have to make a turn or a change and go a different direction. Whether you want to or not.
Despite the challenges, losses, frustrations, aggravations, and changes of heart, (wondering what comes next?) that has culminated over the past 25+ years, when we entered our “golden years”, our “empty nest” years, circa 2019, I really did think we had made it, survived it.
The kids were grown, self sufficient, traveling down their own paths. I was deep in the trenches down at Hedges, my yoga was strong and the studio was growing! And in true ‘Heidi form’, I simply kept moving and grooving, changing and growing along the way, content as I could be, with how our lives were unfolding.
That was 2019. Already six years ago. Unfortunately, something was changing or shifting in Michael, which in turn means life was about to change for me.
Pivot.
Today, I’m no longer working at Hedges ~ or anywhere else for that matter~ the yoga studio became a casualty of the pandemic and closed in July 2021. And my once busy, active, crazy world has been reduced to quiet moments, simpler routines, lessons in patience, and more bouts of frustration, tears, anger, resentment and stress than I care to admit. I have become a caregiver.
Definition: a caregiver is a person who tends to the needs or concerns of a person with short- or long-term limitations due to illness, injury or disability. caregiver. care giving. care taker. baby sitter. maid, servant.
Sometimes I’m surprised we are where we are. Sometimes I’m so gobsmacked and overwhelmed I feel like my life is over. Truly. I just turned 60 and my living has been placed indefinitely on hold. That may sound overly dramatic, but it’s not. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I get there, because getting there isn’t happening any time soon. Yet sometimes, I think we’re doing better than most and at the end of the day, we are okay.
Forever a Planner.
No one plans to be a caregiver. No one plans for illness to turn your life around 180 degrees, or God forbid 360 degrees. Although it may not be that uncommon for a parent, (I was a caregiver to my dad who had dementia), but for a spouse? Definitely not part of anyone’s plan. This is a soul crushing endeavor and can turn the best of us, our lives, into a living hell. How do you plan for hell?
The Reality.
When all of this began, it felt surreal. Like, one minute everything is okay, one minute it’s not. The next minute I’m scared, but then the next, I think I can handle it…. And I told myself that over and over, hoping it would stick. Oh how I hoped.
The reality is ~ ready or not ~ I was thrust into some major life lessons in patience, acceptance, kindness, forgiveness and hopefully self-care. The other side of the coin is this reality also brings feelings of guilt, shame, fear, anger, frustration, resentment and anxiety. It’s a rollercoaster.
This is now your life.
It feels like a test. You go from actively living & planning together as a couple to feeling overwhelmed and isolated because your partner can no longer contribute, thus leaving you paralyzed and terrified you’ll make a mistake.
One moment, life is normal. Then the next, it’s foreign. Abnormal. Surreal. Now, no one really notices in the beginning. We caregivers can cover up a lot! And people who suffer from dementia or Alzheimers develop their own coping mechanisms. Plus, it’s easier if we keep it to ourselves because it’s too scary to actually discuss with others. It might make it real. Or maybe they will think I’m crazy. Then I wonder if I’m doing something wrong. Maybe I’m overreacting? It’s a wild ride of emotions. A rollercoaster.
Eventually you have to talk to someone. And when you start to share the stories, they sound so exaggerated and ridiculous. However, without the stories, how can anyone understand? I have learned that most people are empathetic. But at the end of the day, they cannot put themselves in my shoes. I have learned if you are not a caregiver yourself, how could you ever get it? I don’t want to tell these stories . I want to move forward and I want to forget. ~ haha ~ how ironic is that?
Pivot.
So about 6 years ago, (2019) the world was about to shut down thanks to Covid-19. Michael was fully enmeshed in his retirement and I was thriving at Hedges. Life was clicking along. Then it shifted direction. Honestly? It literally skidded sideways.
In March, Covid officially shut the world down. By April we were trying to restart it. May was crazy, trying to navigate the new normals at the restaurant and everyone was exhausted and running on fumes.
Then in June, it was time for Michael’s birthday. So we went to Avvino and sat outside. I still remember every part of that night. Where we sat, the menu, our conversations. I remember asking Michael - (forgetting simple things had already started) - to play the game of remembrance. What did you order? Why did you order it? Was it good? Would you order it again? Cool.
At the end of the dinner - before dessert - I asked: What would make you happiest for your bithday?
He said: I would like you to stay home with me.
Pivot.
Once I got over the shock of what he was asking, I sat with his request, this idea, and the answer was clear. How could I say no to his request? Michael has never asked anything of me. He gives me whatever I want - whether he wants to or not. He goes with my flow - always has. And I’ve had a beautiful life because of him.
So I made the decision to take a leave of absence, retire, resign - whatever we were going to call it - and I would stay at Hedges through the end of summer, but it was time to take care of my husband. Sure sure. No problem. Whatever you need. The king comes first. It was all lies. My last day at Hedges was almost exactly 15 years to the day I started. Fifteen years + my lifetime (thanks to my mom) gone in a blink of an eye. No fanfare. No thank you. No formal goodbye. I just disappeared like I had never been a part. So much for family.
The diagnosis.
MCI. (Mild Cognitive Impairment). Then Dementia. Finally Alzheimer’s. (early on-set due to a diagnosis before the age of 65, but not early on-set in the sense of a quick decline.)
For the last 6 years, I’ve read, researched, reviewed, counseled and learned as much as I possible could about Alzheimer’s. (Yes, Dad had dementia, and probably Alzheimer’s, but because he never forgot me/the kids, i don’t think it was full blown Alzheimer’s)
This is a slippery slope if you’re living with the patient. I continually view him as Michael. Not a patient. Not a victim. Not someone that requires coddling, hand holding, extra patience, redirection, forgiveness, etc. Sometimes, it’s difficult to see, difficult to acknowledge, difficult to know what should happen next…..
