Being Imperfectly Perfect

What a journey caregiving is! So, as I began my journey, I thought I would breeze through this stuff.  What an eyeopener it was for me to realize I was not perfect.  When the emotion is attached, it is a whole different ball game.  

Mom would say to me “don’t treat me like one of your clients” My response was, “you are not my client, because they listen to me and you don’t.” In her eyes I was still that little blonde haired, pink bowed girl in my Mary janes.  

It is hard to remember all the do’s and don’t of caregiving.  Don’t argue, redirect, stay calm and be kind.  What?? Surely, I can do this.  Nope, I broke every rule and action.  All the while hearing that voice in my head: “this is wrong calm down.”  

Mom liked to push my buttons.  We took her to a restaurant one day and she kept telling us she was not going in with us.  Well, she did. She ordered a sandwich and a skewer of grilled vegetables.  As the disease progressed, mom’s plate would look like a two-year old’s plate, things everywhere, pulled apart, very unappetizing.  Then this 88-year-old woman proceeds to pick up her veggie skewer and twirl it in the air.  She thought it was grand, my husband and I not so much.

By the time we got back in the car I was over the edge…I began shouting and cussing and blaming.  When I was done, she just said, “oh my, such language” What? That was it? 

I think about that day often and all the things I should’ve done instead. Did it scar her? No.  Me? Maybe. But in the end, she knew I was there, and I loved her, and she loved me no matter how imperfectly I cared for her. 

Strive to be imperfectly perfect.  You will find your way together; you must forgive yourself because your loved one has…

Until Next Time,

Robyn Arab

Daughters on Fire, LLC