My Decompression Space

A few weeks ago, my husband and I were sharing a moment.

“Are you happy?” he asks me. I answer yes (of course). Not happy the way I used to be.

“What do you like about me?” he wants to know.

“I like your pretty eyes,” I say, “and your cute smile…and your personality…” I’m grasping here. There was so much i liked when I married him 56 years ago. But so much has changed; he’s not like he used to be. But he can still read my mind.

“You still LIKE me?” he presses. “Certainly!” I assure him.

My foot is propped against his wheelchair and his hand is holding my ankle. His world is secure. I watch as his head relaxes, his chin drops a bit, and he mumbles something about rain clouds gathering nearby (a throwback to his farming days).

“How old are you?” he suddenly wants to know.

“Old enough to be your wife.” I say. He looks puzzled.

“You’re NOT my wife!” he yells. “I married a YOUNG woman!” I excuse myself and go to put on some makeup.

*****

Deciding when to sit beside him and when to get away is a continuous loop playing in my head. Some times are frustrating and tiring, answering the same questions over and over. When he repeatedly asks me if I like him, I finally realize he’s aware things have changed. Although he can’t articulate how he feels about being in a wheelchair and he doesn’t seem to remember anything about his fall, he knows he’s compromised as a man. But that doesn’t change the fact that he needs assurance that he’s still liked by me. His entire face lights up when I give him compliments.

This week I didn’t feel like creating compliments. Every day felt the same: same questions, same mood swings, same UTIs, same dwindling finances, same thought patterns. I felt like I was slogging along, dragging my feet.

That’s when I decided to reboot my psyche.

My solution was to check myself into the local historic hotel. (I can follow Paul’s advice to focus on what is “true, right, pure, lovely, etc.” when I’m surrounded by soothing music and a pretty setting.)

From the moment I left my house, it was one Godwink after another. I felt like Elijah when the raven brought him food in the cave.

This time away was my putting on the proverbial oxygen mask, practicing a little self-indulgence and trying not to feel guilty about it. When I had young boys, I read a book by Chuck Swindoll on parenting. In it he wrote, “Guilt is a by-product of motherhood.”

I realize guilt can apply to whatever the situation is that we feel is our responsibility—from caregiving to rearing children to our careers…you name it. The key is learning what we can change and what we have to accept and determining the difference. (I believe someone much older and wiser said that a long time ago. In fact, I have St. Francis’ Serenity Prayer on a needlepoint plaque stitched by my mother—who was also older and wiser than I.)

So that’s where I am just now: accepting what I can’t change; changing what I can; praying for wisdom to know the difference.

For one thing, I’m more motivated to resist the aging tendencies that show up my body. This Substack platform is filled with ideas from writers who inform and inspire me—physically, mentally, and spiritually. Some of the suggestions I can do (and actually will do) and some make me wonder if I should even attempt.

I remembered an article about a 90 y/o woman who set a Guinness record for maintaining a dead hang from a pull-up bar (and the advantages of doing such a thing) that was posted here on Substack ( https://open.substack.com/pub/drlauriemarbas/p/how-did-a-90-year-old-woman-just?r=2q756v&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=websee).

Well…every day I walk under the the pull-up bar that has rested over the doors of our sons’ bedrooms since they were teenagers. I could never reach the higher one, but after my husband’s accident, we added an extension that is lower so he could reach it from his wheelchair. So, without a good excuse, I resolved to hang from it when I walk by.

This, I hope, is my reboot. I can’t be the young woman my husband remembers marrying, but I won’t be a sad, frumpy old lady people don’t enjoy being around!