#difficult truth

[speedrasure]

But also, like, how is this man still alive?

[luna-shimizu]

Okay. Real, emotional talk here. ‘Cause I gotta get this out, and right now I don’t have anyone who’s not involved in this that I can talk to. And maybe getting this out will make it hurt a little less, make people understand why sometimes I’m just not, well, happy.

Okay, here goes . . .

My grandma has dementia.

She’s had dementia for a few years now, I think for pretty much most of my high school career. At first we were afraid she had Alzheimer’s, and we’d have to watch her lose not only her memories but control of her body. I don’t know if it was really a relief when we found out she has dementia. I mean, it’s still a big horrible thing, you know?

My grandma has been involved in my life basically since my birth. I mean, I remember her taking me shopping when I was really really little, spoiling me and just showering me in love. I remember hanging out at her house with my family, having family dinners, having to convince her to sit down and enjoy herself. She was always the last one to sit down, always making sure everyone else was taken care of before herself. I remember us all going out to our favorite buffet so many times over the years, and just being a family.

The thing about dementia is that it’s not something sudden. It’s not her going to sleep one night and waking up without any memory. I wonder if that would have been better, like ripping off the band-aid.

Instead it’s a slow process. It’s her losing herself slowly over time, and us losing her as well. It’s going to visit her and having a conversation four or five times.It’s trying to get her to take her medicine. It’s slowly being recognized less and less. It’s visiting her in the hospital after a stroke and seeing her break down because she just wants to leave and please why won’t we let her out. It’s distracting her, tiring her out until she falls asleep so we can finally get her taken care of and get her home. It’s watching my mom break down because her own mother doesn’t remember her, her own mother cried because she had to stop her from leaving, her own mother who has always been so strong is now so vulnerable.

It’s crying by myself because my own mom is so torn up already, she doesn’t need my own sadness added to hers.

It’s staying strong while my grandma looks at me and sees a stranger.

It’s staying strong while my grandma cries because she can’t remember me.

It’s staying strong while my grandma is accused of faking her illness.

It’s staying strong while my grandpa and aunt take advantage of her weakness.

It’s staying strong while hearing, “Remember, Grandma loves you.” in my memories.

It’s difficult. It’s depressing. It’s terrifying. It tears me up inside.

Sometimes I just want to run away, I just want to avoid her and avoid the horrible feelings that are dredged up, because she’s my grandma but I’m no longer her grandchild.

But how can I do that? I can’t do that. I can’t abandon her, abandon my mom, abandon my family. I love her, and I love all of them.

So I’ll hide my feelings. I’ll hide my fear. I’ll hide my tears. I’ll hide the anger I feel when I think of how my grandpa and aunt take advantage of everyone else.

Instead I’ll support my mom, support my family, support my grandma, and never abandon them. I’ll stay here, remember my grandma, love my family, and try not to let this keep me from being happy in my life.

[faith-taryn-davies]

3am

I wish I could explain better what it feels like, the euphoria of 3am as I bounce around a room unable to be bounced. Two feet here, two feet there, and you’ve gone the length of the space and yet I bounce.  (more…)

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[mellicose]

There comes a moment when you grow up when you realize what’s right isn’t always proper and what's proper isn’t always right.

The black and white moral ethic your parents lovingly taught you splinters into a thousand disconcerting shades of gray.

[martyschoenleber]

In 1991, My Heart Was Breaking

In 1991, My Heart Was Breaking

For all those who live “Beyond the Honeymoon”

Some friends, some of them for 40 years and some of them for two, have been having difficulty in their marriages. I have been exercised in prayer for them and concerned for the health of their families. With a few, I have shared this short article that I wrote in 1991 when I was dissatisfied with my own marriage.

My wife never knew.

We had been…

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