Inner Experiment Day 9: A Messy Day…
Yesterday I was, quite simply, a mess.
David’s Mom went into assisted living 12 days ago because her memory loss and failure to eat have made it dangerous for her to stay home by herself .
She lives just a few minutes away in a beautiful facility where she has her own apartment and gets wonderful care. When we stop by to see her she usually seems well but the last couple of days she’s been calling us crying and asking to go home.
Yesterday we found out that she has Alzheimer’s.
I called her nurse to discuss what else we could be doing for her and then spoke to David about steps to relieve her anxiety. I answered Bridget’s questions about why Grandma was sad. All the while I was my best clinical, professional self, slipping into the mode I have used with counseling clients and while managing medical care for my Dad and Bridget.
It was only later, when I had my session with my radio coach, that I realized I was not as “together” as I thought.
Brad was giving me some constructive criticism on how to improve my show (which I usually take in stride), when I started crying.
Watching David’s Mom fall apart is painful.
It was a fragile day.
My heart hurt. Physically hurt. And then yesterday evening I watched myself eating tortilla chips and dip while watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Not exactly the poster child for conscious eating.
So I went to bed at 8:30, hoping to wake up feeling a bit better.
And you know what? I do.
As I am present to the sadness and the fear I see that they are held within a much larger container of joy and wonder for this gift that is my life.
The focus for today is appreciation.
I give thanks for my Mother-in-law and the time we have with her. I notice that David took the trash out this morning. I marvel at his ability to tend to these small things in the midst of all he has to do for his Mom. My heart is full as I think about what an advocate he is being for her, and how tender he is.
I smile as my eyes catch the “letter from Santa” that arrived in our mailbox for Bridget yesterday. I see Maddie sleeping the morning away and I delight in the fact that I actually LIKE this teenage person. I look at the medical bills that are coming in from Bridget’s cardiac catheterization and I give thanks for her life.
Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. I’ll be with the people I love most, those who live in bodies and those who are present in spirit. I will sing and pray, laugh and cry, remember and hope. I will be present to my messy self.
I’ll likely post the results of the last two days of this Inner Experiment after Christmas. Meanwhile please know that I hold you in my heart with deep appreciation for journeying with me through this process. I would love to hear about your own inner experience has been!
Peace of these holy days to you,
Kimberly Schneider
www.facebook.com/kimberlyvschneider
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December 23rd, 2009 at 10:15 am
Kim,
I’ve definitely enjoyed your series on your inner experiment – they’ve been so honest and well written. And I’m so sorry to hear about your mother-in-law. I’ll keep you guys in my prayers over the Christmas break.
To me the most devastating, wonderful, tragic thing about this season is that the God who created the universe really did come to us in the most humble, vulnerable way possible – as a baby born to a poor, unmarried couple huddling in a stable. And, in the end, He came to die so that we might have life. Now I realize that some people don’t believe that. For those of us who do, however, I pray that we share a fresh perspective on Christmas, beyond the family drama, pain of absent loved ones and consumerist craziness.
Merry Christmas!
December 27th, 2009 at 1:42 pm
Kim,
Your awareness has been present in the last several days, whether you were aware of David’s tenderness, aware of your comfort eating and how it filled a short-term need of yours, or aware of your gratitude for the unqiue blessings of your children. I have a feeling that your inner experiment has sharpened your awareness and helped you see and feel more than usual. Our overwhelming amount of sensory input around us can easily numb us to this awareness, you have “unwrapped” yourself bit by bit. What a precious gem you are finding there, becoming brighter each day, shining through the messiness.
many blessings to you and your loved ones,
Liz