It's easy in those times to feel a sense of resignation to life. How many times do older friends or clients heave a sigh & talk about "Well, that's just the way it is. I have to make the best of it," or "God knows what's best." Heartbreaking, hearing the resignation, the sense of powerlessness.
Way back in 2000, Mom wrote about life at ninety: Today. my body constantly clues me in that it is merely temporary. It is
breaking down. That is in the
order of things, however rotten it is to
experience. I take two strong
pain pills a day and I have excellent and open
doctors. I live in a supportive
household with two "youngsters" who love me. My daughter badgered and brow beat me to
think for myself rather than constantly
trying to mirror back what I thought she or others wanted me to say or do.
She was the burr under my saddle for change, but the catalyst was my son-in-law, who is remarkably gifted in
the ways of healthy communication.
Yes, I did badger her to think for herself rather than drift into resignation. In the beginning, it can take a lot of energy to choose resiliency over resignation. Resignation is so simple, just follow the path of least resistance by turning over responsibility for life to fate, to your kids or caretakers, to God. Again, Mom described how she felt at those times: Many women of my
generation anchored our identities on
others, those we took care of and nourished.
Personally, I balked at sparing time or energy to think and act for
myself.
arrrggggghhhhhh!
It took me years, but I finally realized that if my response was to drop my hands to my side & say, with great exaggeration & in my worst Cajun dialect, "You is de biggest..." (draw hands up to my hips, so my arms were akimbo) "...de baddest..." (make a full circle with my arms & hands) "...de most no-account grannie on de face of de eahth!" she'd crack up & would be back with me, rather than resigned to some inner netherworld.
And, much to my delighted surprise, she learned. She learned that when she laughed, things got better. She learned that something SHE did could make things better. She learned that she could, on her own, turn things around. That she didn't have to be resigned to feeling less. She learned that by taking the initiative, she could feel more.
It wasn't my intention to create an environment where Mom could develop greater & greater resiliency, although that is what happened. And once she started to get more resilient, it just grew & grew. Once she had a taste, she wanted more.
All of what I've learned over the decades about how to provide support to older friends & loved ones came through real-life experience. A LOT of it happened, like discovering the importance of resiliency, through sheer luck, happenstance. I'd love to say that it's an easy thing to do, but it was difficult tough exasperating. But I respected Mom too much to see her trapped in that bleak disempowered half life.
Weird - just hit me that my hope for Mom was the same as the hope I had for my BACS 6th grade students, for my Prudential coworkers, for John - that they have enough confidence in themselves to connect with & express their own opinions. That was beyond hard for Mom - it was impossible. She literally needed a psychologist's help to learn how to recognize & respect her own opinions.
Developing resiliency can be tough at any age, but especially when we "trip the oldometer" (another Mom phrase!) into serious older age. Then, it can be tough & painful & go against what our instincts say is the wisest course of action (aka lay low & cause as little disturbance as possible).
Thanks largely to my goofy attempt at helping her snap out of self-negating behavior, Mom stop being a victim of outside forces & realized SHE could make things better. Not like she did twenty, thirty, forty years before, but what she could in her here & now, whatever that might feel like. As Mom wrote: It is not all "beer and skittles" - there are rough patches.
The changes that come with old age are scary, especially changes
in life roles. I have not enjoyed the hands-on role of wife for
over 26 years. At ninety, I cannot even manage the role I played as a
parent. The resources just are not
there. I cannot provide massive
emotional or even minor financial support.
I cannot wash a floor or do the
grocery shopping or even dust my own room. (I
can still shell hard boiled eggs and clean mushrooms!)
In Katharine Reynolds Lockhart v. Resignation, Mom - and resiliency - won!
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