Hello and thank you for joining me today.
My name is Barbara and I wanted to have an open and honest discussion about Alzheimer's disease.
I lost my mother two months ago to a 10-year battle with Alzheimer's.
It was certainly difficult to everyone around her,
But as a daughter,
The expectations are different.
The personal care that rests on you is exhausting.
It is difficult for others who love her greatly to understand the physical and mental toll that being in the trenches,
So to speak,
Can do to you.
This is a different kind of grief.
And if you are in this situation,
Maybe listening to this can give you the recognition and the validation that you haven't gotten.
Maybe it can give voice to the unspoken horrors you've experienced and are still experiencing during her decline.
Of course,
This insight can be helpful for any kind of illness,
But the focus and intention for this discussion is for those who have had to endure the pain of losing their mother to Alzheimer's disease and the daughters who cared for them.
For those who witnessed and experienced firsthand the pain right alongside of her.
I'm just letting you know that I understand and I know how hard it is.
Losing any loved one under any circumstance is certainly devastating.
Losing your mother is different.
Losing your mother to Alzheimer's is even worse.
Losing her again and again and again bit by bit by bit over years time is excruciating.
It's a life-altering experience.
At least it is for me.
I will never be the same again.
I will never look at things through the same lens either.
My perspective is different.
This experience has truly taught me to surrender and to know without a doubt that we cannot control other people's journeys.
I'm sure I'm not alone.
If you're listening to this,
Know that you are not alone either.
Maybe you can take a little comfort in that.
I also lost my father five years ago,
Very suddenly with no notice.
I felt like I was being cut off at the knees.
I couldn't breathe.
It's like a sucker punch.
I didn't know what I was going to do without my dad.
And I used to wonder which way is harder,
The sudden or the slow,
The sudden or the slow,
Long,
Death.
And as sudden as my father's loss was and as shocking as it was,
I didn't get to say goodbye.
I'm grateful that it was not a long,
Drawn-out suffering process like my mother had to endure,
Like those that loved her had to endure.
Alzheimer's,
I think,
Is especially difficult because there's no treatment,
No cure,
No hope,
No chemo.
Just the waiting process and the excruciating witnessing of the one who birthed you slowly slipping away.
And it's the type of disease,
Because it's cognitive,
That it makes people uncomfortable.
So they stay away.
It's undignified.
And yeah,
It's tough.
It's hard to watch.
But when it's your mother,
You show up and you stay,
No matter how hard or how ugly it gets.
At least that's what I did.
And it took me a long time to realize that this was her journey,
Not mine.
No matter how many positive affirmations I did,
Distant reiki healings,
Meditations,
Or positive thinking,
It wasn't going to take it away.
My spiritual awakening was useless for her.
But what did help her was my love,
My presence.
My frustration,
Anger,
And resistance did not.
I finally had to release the anger I had towards those who had abandoned her in her time of need.
Maybe that's why I refused to do so.
My mother was the type of woman who had always been there for everyone,
Holding their hand during their chemo treatments.
So the least I could do was be there for her.
And I was.
I would like to say I have no regrets,
But I do have some,
And I'm sharing them with you in the hopes that if you are in any stage of this process,
It can help you cope.
I wish I had stopped being angry sooner.
I wish I had stopped resisting sooner.
I wish I had accepted it sooner and spent my time simply loving her.
I wish I had stopped asking her why she put her slippers in the freezer and why she refused to drink water.
I wish I had stopped trying to convince her that the people in the living room weren't really there.
I wish I hadn't lost my temper in times of frustration when I was just trying to dress her.
I wish I hadn't rushed her when she was trying to get her words out.
I wish I had recorded more moments of joy instead of documenting all the time she was babbling that shit crazy garble.
I wish I had understood and accepted sooner that all the worry and all the frustration and all the anger in the world was not going to take it away.
It wasn't going to bring her memory back,
Bring her body functions back,
Bring her back to me.
But maybe that was the lesson I needed to learn.
Radical acceptance.
Complete surrender.
This was her journey.
I do take comfort in that she didn't know who I was until the very end and I was with her until her last breath and she passed poetically and peacefully in my arms and that I do not regret for one moment.
I hope that in sharing a small piece of my journey can be helpful to anyone going through this cruel disease.
Please know you're not alone.
Please forgive yourself for being human,
For having big emotions and big reactions.
You are doing the best you can in an impossible situation.
And once she does pass,
And I'm sorry for your loss ahead of time,
I also have a meditation published regarding navigating the loss of your mother.
But in the meantime,
I am sending you so much peace and love and ease and grace and acceptance and surrender and surrender to you,
To your family,
To your mom.
Just know she loves you even if she isn't capable of telling you anymore.
She does.
Namaste,
My friends.
Namaste.
