Ninevah

 I was asked to do something this upcoming weekend--something I really do not want to do. Something I am outright dreading with all of my being as I type this.

I am going on a Women's Retreat with my mom.

I agreed to do it because my mom really has enjoyed it in years past, and although she signed up this year--none of her friends signed up as well. I figured it would be fun at the time when I agreed to do this, but as the days loom closer, my spirit is filled with complete and absolute dread.

I originally planned to use my period as an excuse to not participate and spend the weekend in the room, but then my period came early and it's wholly unlikely that it will still be around come retreat time. So that was a bust.

Then I started hearing some things my mom has said that have been hurtful, and I think that I am going to be completely alone in being subjected to it.

And I worry after having heard reports of years past, the content of this retreat fostering discussions that I plain do not want to have with my mom as an audience...and I absolutely don't want to go.

I told my mom's bible study tonight--this feels like Jonah. I am being told to go, and I am emphatically NOT wanting to go, to which someone stated, "You know what happened to Jonah, right? He ended up going."

And my response was, "And he still ended up bitter." (Read the last chapter of Jonah if you haven't. It's a hilarious end to the story).

I begged the mom's group to not pray for my heart to change, because I want to keep my heart guarded in this experience. I don't want to have any vulnerability to be received poorly, so I would rather just stay quiet and exist.

And then another mom prayed out loud for a heart change.

I was told by another mom as I left tonight, "God is going to do something beautiful with this. You'll see."

I hope she's right.

"I'm in F"

There are a lot of words that start with the letter F. Before you think I'm heading down to Sesame Street status with this post, think again.

This is a phrase that my dad told me was a conversation topic today between him and my mom. She told him that they were in F. No context. Just that.

My dad, being the good husband, asked her for some context. She simply repeated what she had already stated--they were in F.

I know that dementia can be this way, where it's often an intense form of a guessing game.

After some digging, my dad found out she had meant to say that today was Friday.

Yes, yesterday was Friday. And in the spirit of that, I'm going to list some other F words that I'm in right now. 

Feeble--My brain, and my heart are basically maxed out with this whole situation. I can only take so much. While I used to go spend hours with my parents ten years ago, I am having a much harder time bringing myself to do so. Yes, I see them every week for Knott's Berry Farm, but I used to visit with them sometimes multiple times a week--any time I was in the area...and I'm having a hard time doing that.

Fantastic--My daughter is growing up. She's only three and a half, but we've had some leaps and bounds break throughs in the last week, and I am finally starting to see a window into more joy being her mother can be. Today, for example, we spent the time before her nap playing tickle monster where I chased her in her room and tickled her. This is a small thing, but it's actually a big thing for me because a year ago, I could not see this sort of thing happening.

Frightened--The world has me frightened right now--separate of my small network and corner. I am not trying to fill myself with worry over things I don't have power to change, but it's hard to not get spun up when the data is bombarding you day and night.

Faithful--I attended a women's fellowship on Friday evening--I actually had to say a quick goodbye to my parents who were visiting so I could get to it. And we spent the whole hour and a half praying. I spent probably a half hour crying. I'm not one who likes to cry in public, but I felt safe enough to cry and not feel forced to explain what was bothering me. I exchanged a few words with people, but I didn't go there to really socialize so much. I just basically wrestled with everything I've swallowed and buried over the last year...and there has been a lot.

I have been listening to the song "Thy Will" by Ashley Diaz quite a bit this week. That, and my favorite hymn of all time--"It is Well with My Soul". These two songs have become a quiet reminder that whatever I am aching over is worth the toil and hardship. I'm not in control. I don't want to be.

I just want to have comfort that I'm not going to be stuck in this eternal feedback loop forever, because every lap I take is harder.

It's Been Almost a Year

 It's been almost a year that my family has been grieving dementia diagnosis. I know there are five stages of grief, but it feels like dealing with dementia doesn't ever allow one to move into a level of acceptance.

You start with the initial denial--there is no way that my loved one has this. I actually was in denial as far back as last summer. My sister mentioned some things she was noticing. She was first to sound an alarm.

Next is anger--how can someone like this be in this state? My loved one in question is young--not an age where one would expect a dementia diagnosis.

Followed by depression--I have a unquantifiable loss in this diagnosis. This loved one isn't invincible, and I know that, but I still and mourn what I will "never get back".

Bargaining has played a big big part of my journey in navigating this season. I want this loved one to be around for my daughter, who is very young. They have a very special relationship, and I cannot imagine discussing loss with my daughter. I want this person around for my siblings, who also have special relationships with them.

And then finally, acceptance. This diagnosis is my family member's fate, and there is nothing I can conceivably do to change that course.

Most days I can just swallow the pain and move on throughout my day, but little hair triggers will smack me down and force me to have to move through the grief stages all over again--at a much faster pace--and each cycle becomes more painful than the last.

There are some positives, I guess. When I was not allowed to even dare mention this sort of thing online by my family, I am now able to at least write about it in some capacity. The reason being is I'm sure it's just become more apparent to others what is happening.

And yet, I still feel quite isolated. I have several friends who are at various stages with their loved ones, but I just feel like I don't quite know how to handle the gradual loss of their loved ones to this horrid disease. And perhaps these loved ones have some counsel they could offer, but the problem of pain is silence. No one wants to expose themselves at their most vulnerable state.

I hadn't really confronted my grief in a solid month because I had other stressors, but mentioning how far everything had come to my Bible study group tonight just gutted me. Last time I had gathered, things were "okay" with my loved one. They had a diagnosis, but there wasn't too many pronounced signs for an unscrutinizing eye. Things have become more pronounced, and it just hurts to have to confront and work through that.

Currently still working through it.

And working through it again and again and again and again until Jesus comes.