I felt could never go to my Mom for advice. So I missed out on so much. I let my fear and frustration rob me of her wisdom and insight for so long. I look back now and am saddened by that truth. Luckily, becoming her caregiver turned that story around a bit and allowed me to heal that relationship.
Dementia woke me up.
wokeWhen dementia tried to steal even more opportunity from me, it woke me up. I got the message that I needed to do whatever I could to change my attitude about my Mom. There were many reasons to do this, the most important of which was the fact that I was losing her. She was being stolen from me very quickly. Before it was too late, I needed to make up for lost time.
I knew it wasn’t going to be easy because my mom and I had a really hard time with each other. It was not only a personality clash, it also a broken chain of communication. I’m not sure when communication first broke down but it felt like we had struggled forever. When I was a child, she talked at me (this turned me onto a very good listener) and when I got older and started finding my own voice and talked back to her the only difference was we both got louder. We didn’t talk to each other, we screamed at each other.
My Mom was stubborn and I was just like her.
She was stubborn, had a short fuse, very adamant opinions, and a quicksilver fast tongue. I too was stubborn, chose rebellion as an outlet, and was willing to take risk. It was an explosive combo. There was also a big generational gap; my parents were of the greatest generation and I was of the throw it all out the window generation. We disagreed on how the world worked.
Dementia handed me a puzzle to solve that challenged my core beliefs. To cope with my Mom’s new normal I was forced to change tactics and question every move I made around her. This meant that I not only had to communicate differently with her, I had to question my entire reaction to her.
I had to look in the mirror.
Bravely digging around in my past and looking in the mirror helped me take responsibility for my old anger and some of my behavior. This was dramatically changed my habit of always pointing the finger at her. It also made it easier for me to change. I knew we loved each other. Now I had to find a way to express that directly, instead of hiding it between the lines and burying it beneath fear and anger.
I started to listen to her. Instead of tuning her out and always assuming she had nothing to say that I wanted to hear, I pledged to listen. I change my tone of voice so it was soft and kind. I began to have a conversation based on curiosity and possibility instead of defensiveness and animosity.
There were fits and starts. Since I’m human I often took two steps back after one step forward. Yet my willingness to be open and vulnerable offered me a chance to get to know her differently.
When I began to listen, I heard amazing things.
We talked about her life and shared experiences. We reminisced. I gained knowledge and insight which more often than not caught me by surprise. Although these were never extended conversations, I was blessed with lots of little nuggets of wisdom and we shared things. I got out of my own way and found a way to my Mom. It was not perfect by any means, but our relationship was more about mutual respect than I ever dreamed possible. She was one smart cookie and once my ego and anger were out of the picture I was able to appreciate her for who she was. On her death bed, she told me what a wonderful daughter and woman I was. I had been waiting to hear that all my life.
So it’s never too late to hit the re-start button and I suggest you hit it sooner than later. Stop and listen. Choose to be happy over being right. Give someone the benefit of the doubt for a while. And don’t let the past ruin your present. Let it go and be open and curious. You just might hear the one thing you’ve been waiting to hear forever.
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