The psychologist that sees Bob, tells me that I should get ACT counseling.

Acceptance & Commitment Therapy. “To help accept what is in the moment without feeling the need to change it.”

She says spouses of chronically ill patients do well with this therapy.
I’m sure they do, but I’m not a spouse of a chronically ill patient….am I? And I don’t accept what’s in the moment, do I have to?

I’d rather just get my faith back up to a place where I can believe for Bob to be renewed and made whole again. I don’t accept where he is. I don’t want him to accept it either. I want to ACT on my faith.

spent yesterday in the clinic and hospital.  Bob dehydrated again, needed IV fluids and went for swallowing test.  doc called this morning to say he has an esophageal stricture.  will be setting up a scope and more testing to try and fix.
will also be seeing an ENT doc.
I pray we get to the end of these complications soon. Bob is so frustrated, and sick of being sick. I concur.
must admit that I’m not a good as I used to be at this.  worn down.

Bob has been approved for disability.  Something in me wanted him to NOT be approved.  As if the Social Security Administration’s determination would actually declare him NOT DISABLED, and therefore he’d just have to be …NOT disabled.

Unfortunately, Bob’s cognitive testing has shown a deficit worthy of a neuro-psychologist’s intervention, and worthy of the designation of temporarily disabled.  He’ll start neuro rehab, work with the neurology team and get to an optimal state of cognitive ability.  Hopefully that state of cognitive ability will be one in which he can feel like himself again, and not feel — well…disabled.

He was temporarily disabled 10 years ago, received disability benefits, then recovered enough to discontinue the disability.  So, I want that outcome again.

Funny…some people actually want to be disabled.  I hate this.

 

 

 

 

Applied for disability today for Bob.
Have mixed feelings about it.  Every “box is checked” as far as they may be concerned.  But it is hard to admit that this may be where he “is” right now.
Trying so hard to believe he is healed and completely restored, but can’t completely get there yet.
Maybe this is a bridge.
Sometimes I just wanna jump.

Mother’s Day has passed.  May 13th has passed.  We made it.

On Mother’s Day we gathered at the Garden, we saw the tree that was planted, we ate lunch and visited.   Not a lot of tears, just togetherness.

Then the week played out and I thought about everything that happened a year ago…the funeral was a year ago friday.  Friday was a bad day.  Then Saturday and Sunday came and I wondered who was still here after the funeral last year, what did we do, when did everyone leave?  Why does my memory feel so fuzzy?

Weird, sad week.  I figured that Mother’s Day would be the worst day, and in actuality it was the easiest.

Still working through this weird world of grief, but maybe (just maybe) I’m beginning to find my way.

 

 

May 9, 2013
I am preparing for Mother’s Day, but I have no mom. I told Katie that I would lock myself in my bedroom all day, because I have no mom. Katie said, “Then I guess I’ll have no mom on Mother’s Day either.” Touché. I guess that rules out that plan.

We had some generous friends donate to a garden nearby, for us to plant a tree in her memory.
Our family will all gather together (as many of us that are able) and have a picnic at that garden, now that the tree and plaque are installed. Not a sad thing, but a “togetherness” thing.

Hard to believe she’s been gone a year already. I still miss her every day. The pain is different, but not gone. Still a hard day to face. Mother’s Day, the day my mom left.

I’ll have to find new things to celebrate on Mother’s Day. Will keep my eyes and heart open, and it will not be hard to find something if I keep looking.

I’ve been avoiding this top lately; Bob. But I think maybe it’s time to delve in.

Bob is 13 months out from Bone Marrow Transplant number two. Though he’s cancer free, he’s taken a few steps backwards in life. He states that this second transplant has wiped him out. He doesn’t have much stamina, doesn’t have much of an appetite, and frankly doesn’t seem to have much of a life.

He saw the counselor with me a few times, but Bob has never been much of a talker. He didn’t have much to say other than, “I’ve had 2 bone marrow transplants in 8 years, I’m tired. The complications from the first round of chemo 8 years ago fried my brain and I have a hard time with my speech. My memory sucks. Everything is hard.”

The counselor asked if he wanted to live. Bob said yes. Enough said.

At this point Bob is trying to define life. Aren’t we all?

I saw the counselor one last time. He’d been out sick for a month, I had a break for a month. I didn’t feel any worse during the month off, so I figured it was time to stop. (I know…my deductive reasoning skills are impressive.)

So my last visit was essentially a ‘break up’. We discussed life, death, moving forward; he apologized that life was so hard. I told him it wasn’t his fault that life was hard. I thanked him for listening to me for so many hours of venting.

Bottom line: counseling let me know (from a professional) that I’m not crazy and I’m not losing my mind. 🙂

I’m just a normal person going through a difficult time. My life, like so many other people’s lives, is filled with difficult circumstances. Some more difficult than others. I suppose that life and it’s normal stress became amplified during grief and became so unbearable that I needed a professional to tell me “yes, this is hard. yes, this is life. yes, you will get through this. now find your strength, your healthy coping mechanisms, and move on.”
(there were also a few “wow…life has dealt you some harsh blows, you’ve been dealing with some really hard stuff for awhile now! you are not weak, you are not having a hard time dealing with normal stress, you have really had a hard road and some complications!” which helped justify my feelings) None-the-less, the counselor didn’t actually FIX anything. I think that’s my job.

So where do I go from here? forward.
without a paid counselor to tell me how to walk through life, I’ll listen to the counselor that is inside me. The spirit that guides me. I’ll talk to God again, I’ll listen to Him again. I’ll seek, I’ll find. I’ll ask and He’ll answer.

Because after this break up, it’s time to get back together with God.

When mom died, I remember feeling the intense grief and deciding that I wanted it all….all the grief and all the pain. I thought that if I faced it all, and took it all, I could get it over with and not return to grief years later. Good plan huh?
Well, I’m waving a white flag here. I’d like to be finished now, no more grief please. Even if that means that some time later in life I face it again, or I walk down a path that leads me to tears and sadness, that’s okay. I don’t think I’m going to stay in this place and somehow overcome grief, or beat it into submission.

Yes, my plan sucked.
Grief sucks.

Maybe grief turned to depression? Maybe I stayed there too long, waiting to battle it all at once – mistakenly thinking that I’d finish grieving and never face it again. Well I was wrong. And maybe time is what heals. The grief will always be there, I just need to choose not to live IN IT every day.

So, waving the white flag and walking away from it. Grief – you win. You’re bigger than me. I can’t beat you or make you go away. But I can choose to walk away from you. I know you’ll be there waiting for me, should I choose to come back and wallow around in the mud again.
But for now, peace out.

Found this….wrote it in January. Never posted it. Fell back in that hole. 😦

So I feel like I’ve turned a corner, or walked out of a fog, or crawled out of a hole. I’ve been here in this hole for over seven months. Grief Stinks!

Oh I’ve tried to get out…but every time I’ve lifted my head up or peaked around the corner I’ve faced a LIFE that was filled with depression, grief, sadness, cancer, fear, loneliness, yuck, yuck, yuck!

LIFE is still there, and I could continue to see the bad stuff, but for some reason (thank you God) I am able to choose to see the good stuff now too. And I’ve decided I’m going to focus on the good. God is still here in our midst and He will be my strength; again. I’m going to lean on Him again. I’m not going to run away from Him, or be mad at Him…because I just can’t anymore.

I’m choosing to walk out of this. I’m praying that I can not be sucked back into that hole….that seems oh so close still.