I am a fixer. A problem solver. A recovering type-A personality. I like to make things better, organize and tidy. But during the stressful months surrounding my father’s illness and death and my mother’s decline from cancer, I grappled with the realization that some things — like the poor health and life-altering illness of our loved ones — cannot be fixed, no matter how hard we try.
Yes, we can organize care and meals, make the house easier to navigate and keep it clean, but then what do we do with all the feelings these emotional turbulent times churn up? We have a few choices. We can choose to acknowledge the circumstances and yield to what is beyond our control, be consumed by anger and sadness or turn away in denial. Letting go of expectations and accepting the situation can lead to a deep awareness of feelings and a bearing witness to the current situation out of respect and support for our loved one without trying to control the outcome.
But letting go is not an easy endeavor. There is no one-size-fits-all. For me, it helped to allow myself to be aware and then acknowledge all my feelings, including sadness, anger, grief, helplessness, fear and jealousy (of those not experiencing this) as well as some of the happiness that bloomed in other parts of my life. I tried to accept and understand these vacillating emotions as I would if a friend was sharing their story with me.
Some days, after returning home from my parents’ home where there had been an emergency health crisis, the dull ache of fatigue radiated down my legs so I could barely stand, my stomach swirled from nerves, my brain felt numb. Lying down did not help. Sleep would not come. What was left for me to do? I sat in the middle of my bed, closed my eyes and focused only on the intake and exhale of my breath. In the space between the breaths, I noticed what feelings rose up. I didn’t have to act or change anything. Those moments of breathing and resetting helped me slow down my racing mind and process all the emotions and events that had transpired in the previous hours.
Letting go is not an easy endeavor. There is no one-size-fits-all. For me, it helped to allow myself to be aware and then acknowledge all my feelings.
Being single, I had no spouse or partner to vent to, and I did not want to have this burden rain down on my teenage sons. Instead, I spoke to close friends and worked to give myself comfort in some small ways throughout the day. I leaned on my sisters, who were also providing care for our parents, as well as hospice and other care workers who reminded me that I wasn’t alone.
Mental health support from a counselor is often a lifesaver as well. Having previously done therapy for my divorce and grief counseling for another loss, I used some of the strategies that had been helpful to me in the past. For example, I used positive self-talk to “talk myself down” when my anxiety or negativity spiked.
And as I proceeded through my to-dos, I would intentionally slow down, stopping to sit for a few minutes and doing some conscious breathing or just drinking water. I took a hot shower or drank warm tea before bed. I reminded myself I was doing my very best with all the new and vexing situations that arose.
As my mother received hospice care, my oldest son, a senior in high school, moved through many milestones. The year was filled with future life decisions — job or trade school, college applications and admittance — and many academic and athletic activities: championships, banquets, the prom and graduation ceremony. Much excitement surrounded those activities amidst the grief of my mother’s declining health.
I teetered to balance the despair and the joy, frustration and elation.
It didn’t feel right to be happy. Yet my high-achieving son had worked hard and deserved to celebrate. As I rushed from event to event and back to the quietness of my mother’s home, I teetered to balance the despair and the joy, frustration and elation.
During each activity, whether it was a banquet or a sendoff to the prom, if I caught my mind wandering to my mental to-do list or felt myself zoning out, I refocused my attention on my son and the right of passage he was cresting. To stay in the moment and enjoy it, I practiced mindfulness. This meant taking a few slow, quiet breaths in and out through the nose and then observing the setting, such as the weather, the decorations at the event and the people around me. I soaked in the atmosphere and zeroed in on his presence and accomplishments and of how I had supported him along the way.
To keep myself grounded, I started taking a selfie with my oldest son at each of the senior events from college naming day and sport signing day to honor society ceremonies and end-of-the-year banquets. For one moment we stopped, squeezed together and snapped the picture. These snapshots helped me stay present and capture the moment. Even if I was having a bad hair day or didn’t have time to fix my makeup, we took a picture.
Amidst the sadness of my mother’s poor health, my son was moving on to the next exciting chapter of his life, and we were smiling and hugging even if it was just for a second. Now, when I scroll through the pictures on my phone I am always met with our joyous faces.
Later, back in the driveway of Mom’s home, I gave myself another moment to just sit there and breathe in the silence. I reminded myself that nothing needed fixing or tidying, all of me was there, fully present and walking through the door showing up for Mom and myself.
