ENGAGE - ENERGIZE - EMPOWER

Tuesday, September 30, 2014

"I love them more than I love myself."

Over on Facebook, a friend just wrote  the comment, about her boys - " I love them more than I love myself."   

It would be so wondrous if we could feel the same about our aged family.  

Parents are given a special love to lift them above the arduous parts of raising children, but there's no similar naturally instilled love & protection of the elderly.  Where our creator instills love of offspring in parents, care of the elderly is ordered by divine fiat.  

If you have elderly in your care or within your circle, think about my friend's comment about her children, then ponder feeling a similar sense when it comes to your aging loved ones. 

Honour thy father & thy mother
that thy days may be long 
upon the land which the
LORD thy God 
giveth 
thee

Monday, September 29, 2014

Blessings of Being a Burden

One hundred thousand thanks to Cheryl Magness for penning a remarkable response to Ezekiel Emanuel's article, Why I Want to Die at 75!  She gives voice to what I do my best to get every grannie client, every family of an oldster, to understand with their head heart spirit.  

Why I Want Live Long & Burden My Children is a must read for everyone, from teen to ancient.  Paused long & lovingly over her statement, "... those who attempt to refute Emanuel’s argument by providing counter-examples to some extent buy into his premise that worth comes from accomplishment and overlook the truth that sometimes the greatest contribution one can make is that borne of weakness."

Oh, to have someone connected to thousands of readers say the thing I try to share on this blog.  Have died & gone to heaven!

"For most people (certainly there are exceptions) parenthood is the supreme character-education course: when we become parents we truly begin to learn what love and sacrifice are all about...  During those 18 or so years that parents directly oversee and guide their children’s lives, the parents benefit as much as the children, by virtue of being so deeply needed by one who is weaker." 

I could never have written that - John & I weren't blessed with children.  So, I could never have written. with authority, what follows.

"As we age the same thing happens again, but in reverse. The children who were once cared for become the ones who care for their parents. And as they do so, they get another chance to grow in compassion, responsibility, care, and selflessness."

YES!

Reading about her 84-year old mother, am longing to send Cheryl a link to my own mother's article about aging.  But there's no contact info.  Arrrrgggghhhh! 

Must content myself with being filled with gratitude for someone having the experience, talent & online outlet for sharing a message I long to shout from every rooftop!

One thing I constantly tell families drawing on all their inner resources to do & be their best for aging parents is - there's a gift.  I can't describe what the gift is, how or when it will present itself.  But there is definitely a gift.  When we give our best, with right attitude, for our parents, we are gifted in return.  

Part of the gift happens when the oldster is still with us, the part we can see. The seemingly endless opportunities to "do it better next time."  The increased capacity to forgive the other - and ourselves.  The lessons in patience, caring & loving.  The ability to live, every day, "Honor thy father & thy mother, that thy days may long upon the land with the Lord thy God gives you."  

Part of the gift comes after they are gone. That part is unique for each of us.  But, if we give of ourselves from right attitude, it will be given.  

My heart melts, reading her close.  It takes everything in my heart & shares it with the world - 
"It is remarkable that a person in his seventies could inaugurate the ending of the Cold War or serve as ambassador to France. But it is also remarkable what can be contributed from the confines of a rocking chair while saying not a word."

What a perfect response to Dr. Emanuel's imperfect paper!
 

Sunday, September 28, 2014

Why I Hope to Die at 75

Seems that Ezekiel Emanuel wants to die at 75.  He dreads living too long, declining - well, dwindling away, being robbed of creativity, unable to make a meaningful "contribution to work, society & the world."  

Sheez - he should have met my mother!  In her late 80s & early 90s, the Gramster was touching lives in ways she never imagined as "a kid of 75" (her words, not mine).

But it helps to understand that Dr. Emanuel is only 57 years old.  And his view of what lies ahead of him is bleak, like it is for many men in their late fifties who see decline stretching out in front of them, with few if any perceived benefits.

Oh, how different life looks when we are young.  Am reminded of my #2 brother, deeply unhappy with my father's resistance to laying plans for retirement & turning over the business.  At the time, Dad was sixty, Mike a chomping-at-the-bit early 30-something.  When Dad balked, Mike moved.  

Fast forward 40+ years.  My brother is now 72.  He still makes a hour plus drive six days a week to work at his popular high-end hardware store in the Surrey Hills section of Sydney, Australia.  And, according to my niece, although he's selling the store come the end of this year, he expects to keep on working somewhere.  Am reminded of his (then scathing) comment that Dad expected to work until he dropped (which was basically what he did).  How different it all looks with age!!

Dr. Emanuel would be wise to take note of my brother's experience.  And my mother's late-in-life awakening.  Instead of thinking it best to throw in the towel at 75, he should become an elder care anarchist - like ME!  The attitude & the reality he rails against is exactly what I am dedicated to doing my bit to overturn & set back right. 

He is correct in thinking that the USA is a gosh awful place for growing old.  He'll get no argument with me that living too long can be a loss - if that's what you let happen.  He should have met my mother, who penned The Velveteen Grammie & went to her first women's retreat at 90, who - home for hospice - answered e-mailed questions from a local college's Psych 101 students right up to the day she died. (Turns out that her response to "What advice would you give a young man who thinks he's met the woman he wants to marry?" is still followed, almost 15 years later.) 

Mom had her trials & challenges.  She almost sent me into an emotional tailspin.  But, in her late 80s, she rose splendidly above it all & spent the last years of her life being a shining beacon for expansive, empowered aging - in spite of physical frailty.

"By the time I reach 75, I will have lived a complete life"   Ezekiel Emanuel

HA!  I think of Grandma Rose, of Mrs. Ridgeway, of Miss Cornelia & Aunt Gay & Gig, all of whom were just hitting a certain special stride at that age.  Yes, they weren't DOING all the stuff that matters to a 57-year old, but they were doing so much that was of value to so many.  It appears, at first read, that Dr. Emanuel's attitude is defeatist, which those ladies never were.

The only reason for his sensationalist title, Why I Hope to Die at 75, is to sell copies of The Atlantic.  While it might succeed in that endeavor, it fails to draw people into the article's core - and incredibly important - message about aging in America.  It sucks.

My prescription for the good doctor - become an elder care anarchist!  

He's utterly spot on in stating that too many of my fellow countrymen are obsessed with doing everything in their power to become what he aptly terms American immortals.  

Has Dr. Emanuel been reading my blog?  Because that's an alarm I've been sounding since my earliest posts.  As a society, we glorify the idea of extreme longevity.  As a culture, we denigrate the elderly, with people over 45 unable to find new jobs due to their age.  They can join AARP at 50!!  Yes, he is right - we totally trash the elderly at the same time we glorify growing old.

He cites telling statistics on life expectancy - in 1900, on average we lived to about 47.  By 1930, that had expanded to 59.4.  Today, the average life expectancy for men is 76.3, for women it's 81.1.  

As Dr. Emanuel points out, up until 1960, the advances were due to vaccines & antibiotics & other improved medical care, which saved infants & children from early death & all ages from infections.  Penicillin alone reduced deaths from pneumonia, menigitis, scarlet fever, diptheria, "social" diseases such as syphilis & gonorrhea - the list goes on. In the 1960s, things started to change. Longevity increased due to extending old age rather than saving young lives.   

Sadly, he's right - today, people are less likely to drop dead of a heart attack or felled by cancer & more likely to die of dwindling physical resources.  We haven't halted or even slowed aging so much as make the elderly take a longer linger dying.  I have an older friend who was brought back from death at least twice in her 80s, only to return to a life she clung to but which gave her little pleasure.  Instead of dying at once, she ended up dying at last.  Here was a woman with an absolute belief in a wonderful afterlife, subjected to extraordinary measures to bring her back to this ife, who took an amazing list of pills every day to keep her going.  

I agree with Dr. Emanuel - that is not for me.

What a waste that Dr. Emanuel seems to be part of the very problem I am dedicate to help revolutionize.  Studies show that people are their most PRODUCTIVE in their forties, starting to decline in their fifties, which leads him to conclude their value after that age is inescapably compromised.  To him, Mom would have been an outlier, the rare exception.

Wondering what he would think about Mom's thoughts on aging - "It's 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!)"


Her volume of productivity had plummeted, but Mom's ability to be productive was still strong. When she was answering the Psych 101 questions, she was partially paralyzed, restricted to a hospital bed in her room.

Chortling, thinking of her having a cuppa with Dr. Emanuel.  What would the woman who wrote,  "The problem is that young kids – looking  through the eyes of a still preening self - feel sad and think,  'How dull her  life must be,'" say to him?

Dr. E. - she's talking to YOU!  

I felt so encouraged when he writes, "Mentorship is hugely important. It lets us transmit our collective memory and draw on the wisdom of elders. It is too often undervalued, dismissed as a way to occupy seniors who refuse to retire and who keep repeating the same stories."

Praise be, I thought - he gets it!  But, no - as the next sentence was as dreary as the rest: "But it also illuminates a key issue with aging: the constricting of our ambitions and  expectations."  I want to bop him over the head with a rolled-up copy of AARP's monthly magazine!  

Interesting to realize, reading "There is much less pressure to conform to parental expectations and demands after they are gone," that his own father is still with us.  Does Dr. Emanuel consider his dad - another Dr. Emanuel - a burden because he's slowed down by a stroke, no longer makes rounds at the hospital or teach, is still fulfilling the role of head of the family?  Gotta wonder.  

The greatest impression I had after reading the article is that the prospect of significant aging seems to terrify the self-proclaimed over-achiever.  Instead of looking for ways to reverse the damage, he seems resigned to its permanent place in our American life.  

Every time Dr. Emanuel raises a good point about aging, he shoots it down.  He covers so much ground, yet seems petered out on the points I feel most worth hitting ~ the over-medicating of our elders, the prevalent use of extraordinary measures because they CAN be done rather than because they are in the patient's genuine best interests, the shunting them aside into segregrated senior communities.  

Left out is any consideration of who/what benefits from all this attention to extending aging in a culture that demeans getting older.  There's no mention of our nation's medical-industrial complex. But perhaps not so surprising

In closing, am imaging Mom & Dr. Emanuel sharing a lovely Australian Merlot as they compare views on aging.  Imagining the 91-year old bending toward him, explaining to the young whippersnapper the power & importance of old age:

Just as little children look at their parents as really old, not-so-young  people can see their own parents as shutting down as we age, gong into some  sort of benign hibernation  It is true that nature brings us, willingly or  not, into more meditative states and slower tempos.  

Am I bored to tears  sitting in the big chair in the living room or in my soothing rocking chair?   No, it is surprisingly rewarding.  

The problem is that young kids – looking  through the eyes of a still preening self - feel sad and think, "How dull her  life must be."  

Too many Ancient and near-Ancient Ones fall for that line.  Truth be told, growth keeps right on going, ideally right out of the ceilings  of our cramped opinion. 

This old biddy believes that the Lord intends us to live fully - whatever our physical or mental condition - right up to the  moment we traipse across the threshold of our spiritual home.


 

"Mrs. Nothing"

Who knew that going with my instincts- as whacky as they seemed - rather than years of training would have such AMAZING results?  

First, as described in my previous posting, Wednesday night's conversation got heated but not once did the grannie client fall back on her practically patented "What did I do wrong?  Whatever it is, I'm sorry & promise to never do it again," response.  I can barely remember a time she hasn't.  

That particular response serves a major "use" - it's guaranteed to shut down her ability to really experience, acknowledge & understand the problem at hand.  But she didn't go there.  Instead, she kept her mental & emotional pathways open - incredible for any of us, downright jaw-dropping for someone with memory challenges!

Then, she called to apologize for the specific situation, with specific regrets given for specific actions.  And she made it possible for the two of us to put the situation behind us & look forward to the future, an outing the next afternoon.

Little did I know an even more gobswoggly leap was about to happen.

The senior residence where she lives almost always has an interesting program on Thursday nights.  Almost.  This past Thursday was one of the few that didn't have one scheduled.  The day got even less engaging when the 1:30 p.m. Current Events discussion was canceled.  

To help make up for what would be a far less stimulating Thursday than usual, I took her out for a special lunch.  We lit over to the Cheesecake Factory at Willow Grove Park (Mall).  It was a grey, damp day & the restaurant's sunny interior & "best smiles around" staff would surely make for a memorable meal.  HA!  Again - little did I know.

Oh my gosh - the place was packed!  "It's like Christmas," I commented to the host.  Well, not quite, but a lot of schools were off for Rosh Hashanah, which explained the range of ages throughout the restaurant.  Praise be, we were promptly seated, with several families in viewing range of my g.c. (she loves children of all ages & especially families together).

As always, we had a delightful server, a young lady who made us feel like having us to fuss over totally made her day.  My g.c. ordered her usual vodka martini (rocks on the side, no garnish) & I got my usual lemonade (they serve it in a chilled glass rimmed with salt).  Ordering lunch was a snap - the mushroom bacon burger for her, guacamole egg rolls for me.

It was a lovely time, with the usual fun of looking around the room, getting into a discussion about some aspect of American history, reviewing what was happening in our home town.  

The last always has a touch of bittersweet, since many of the events that were common thirty years ago no longer happen.  Somehow, this drew my g.c. into thinking about her life, in this present moment.

It's unlikely I will ever forget her face, looking across at me & announcing, "Once. I was a wife & I was a mother.   Now, my children have their own lives & my husband is gone.          I am Mrs. Nothing."  

How I wish I could describe her face as she made her statement - she was fully present, fully aware of what she was saying, of the depth of its truth to her. 

And I shot my arms up in the air in a gesture of triumph, proclaiming a joyful, "YES!"  

Praise be, she'd gotten to the very place that I'd been praying for, working for, dreaming of for all the years I've been leading her astray.  She finally had a sense of herself as something somehow different from a wife, different from a mother, or daughter or sister or friend.  

I explained that NOW she has something to share with her talk therapist - who is SHE, separate from her roles?  

Even if that one afternoon turns out to be the only time she can face down not having a clue about her own self, it happened.  It wasn't anything that anyone could MAKE happen.  Besides, I'm not a psychologist or counselor.  All I could do is my best to help keep pathways cleared & environments safe, but only my g.c. could make it happen.  It might never have happened & that had to be okay, too.  But it did!

When we used to talk about her apparent lack of self awareness, I'd illustrate my concern by describing her waiting to be processed into Heaven.  God would ask, "Who are you?" & she'd reply, "I'm Mrs. -------."  God would try again, "Who are you?" & she'd reply, "I'm the mother of -----------."  When asked again, she'd blurt out, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Now, I have to change that fable.  She might still give the first two answers, but the third?  Even if she never takes any further steps along the path than the HUGE leap she made Thursday afternoon, on the third go 'round she can answer "Who are YOU?" with, "I haven't a clue."

And the trumpets sounded & the angels sang!!

Mrs. Nothing, make way for Ms. Somebody.








Thursday, September 25, 2014

Trumped training

I would NEVER take to task a grannie client (dealing with some of aging's greatest challenges), however much a devastating complaint pierced my heart.  Have been instilled by great mentors & role models to step past the ego part hat wants appreciation for what I've done, separating myself from potential hurt, turning my attention to restoring my friend's sense of happy balance, whatever that might take.  

Yeah, right....

Seems there are times instinct sometimes steps up & totally trumps training.  Certainly did last night - the last Wednesday of the month.

Aka the night I take a jazz-loving grannie client into the very heart of Center City Philadelphia for the best jazz in the city.  John's always with us, escorting her into the restaurant/jazz heaven while I park the car.  

Last night didn't turn out the way any of us expected.  Within 15 minutes of our drive, John was beset with a bit of incontinence.  He had no idea when we left the house - crept up on him.  He was sort of suspicious by the time we reached the grannie client's;  certain sure by the time we got to Glenside.

That sure the kabosh on our plans.  No way I was driving downtown, constantly worried I might have to locate a gas station, Wawa or 7 Eleven - FAST. 

What to do??  Instead of going into town, took a lovely drive westward, all of us enjoying the magnificent cloudscapes & sunset ("Oh, look at all those...  What do they call them?"  "Contrails."  "Oh,look at them!"), then back tracked to one of her favorite restaurants for dinner.  It turned into a very pleasant evening. 

Or so I thought.  

About five minutes from her senior residence, my dear sweet lovely friend announced, in a firm, flat voice that chilled my heart, "Well, I don't want to do THAT evening again."

My heart sank & a sense of sadness swept over me.  

"I'm so sorry.  What didn't you like about the evening - the restaurant?  the ride?"

"I don't know.  I just never want to do THAT again."

That should have been my cue to reach out, to confirm the validity of her unhappiness, to reinforce the legitimacy of her disappointment, to say, "I understand.  I was disappointed to miss hearing the jazz, too."   

Everything I've read about working with challenged elders pointed me down the utterly compassionate, tender & understanding path.

Which was why I was stunned to hear come out of my mouth, "Well, that's rude."  

Say what???

"Well," my g.c. responded, with a good bit of heat, "I tried hard to keep it in. I tried hard not to say anything."

And I heard myself whip back, "Well, it seems that you didn't try hard enough."

At which, she proclaimed, "Okay, I'm just not going to say anything."

That lasted for about ninety seconds.  

From there to her residence, we had a bit of a back & forth, basically all rephrasings of the original exchange.  She wouldn't take John's arm to go up to her apartment & when he shadowed her up (we always escort any grannie client who've had a cocktail), she kept looking back & announcing, "You can go now!"

On the ride home, I was mortified.  How could I have gone SO totally off course?  How could I have let my ego, at the heart of feeling wronged, get the better of me?  

As we came through the front door, I was feeling about as low & unprofessional as I've ever felt.

Just a few steps into the house, the phone rang.  Expecting a call back from  my client's daughter (had left her a message while John shadowed her mom), I answered with a long,  "Hullllll-looooooow."

"Hello.  This is..." and my grannie client gave her full name.  I snapped to, mouthing who it was to John.  

Here it comes, I thought.  Now, she will be all apologies, all of it conditioned with an utterly aggrieved, "...whatever it was I did wrong."

Instead, she opened with one of the best apologies I've received from anyone, ever.

"I want to apologize.  You did everything you could to make the most of a disappointment.  I was upset that we didn't go to hear the jazz.  You were right - it was rude.  I love John & I love you & I don't want this to come between us."  

Who was the person on the other end of the phone?  Every time there has been the slightest kerfluffle between the two of us, any apology has always been completely negated by her sense of having done something wrong, not knowing what it was, always trailing off into comments about feeling lost & alone, inevitably ending up with her strong general sense of being grievously mistreated.  

Who was this person with the heart-felt, tender & lucid apology?!?

The call gave me the opportunity to say all the RIGHT things I'd talked over on the drive home.  By the time I rang off, we were both in jolly moods & looking forward to making the monthly pilgrimage to our jazz mecca next week.

After hanging up, paused for a very long moment.  What I'd said to her in the car, my response to her admittedly devastating comment, went totally against every elder care tenet learned over the years, particularly with olders facing the most serious challenges.  Sheez - I'd held this dear fragile elderly friend  responsible as I would a gal pal or John.  

A YIKES! transgression of sound elder care apparently took my friend to a place that stunned me & awed her daughter, when we spoke later.  She rose to the occasion.   

Would love to say it was carefully thought out, that I realized the potential reward & knowingly accepted the risk.  It wasn't, I didn't.  

Here it is, almost 24 hours later & am still as clueless about those words as when they tumbled out, still no concept why I didn't immediately back peddle on hearing them.  Guess that sometimes you have to trust a "feels right" response, even if it seems loony.  Guess there always be times I've gotta trust, letting instinct & intuition trump training.

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

The Power of RELAXATION

Unless she was in the hospital, flat on her back & seriously out of commission, my mother exercised every day.  In addition to the calisthenics she did twice a day, without fail, Mom walked.  

Long Sunday walks with Dad & the children;  shorter, regular walks with just the kids; fast-paced walks to Bryn Athyn Post Office to pick up the mail - sometimes twice a day;  walks up Alden Road to Soneson's store or further up to the schools; challenging walks up Alden Road, then the Black Path & along South Avenue to Sunday services or weddings or funerals.   

After I married John & she moved in with us, she'd walk around our cozy little  neighborhood.  

As Mom got up there in years, she did fewer calisthenics & more stretches.  She took shorter walks - up & down Pheasant Run, then around & around our back yard, then around & around the kitchen island; finally ending up doing foot lifts in the big chair in the living room, the one that Brenda describes as "in the Stickley style."

In place of many of her traditional exercises, Mom substituted breath work.  I'd started my own targeted daily regime of three sets of breath work exercises, inspired by Jumpstart Your Metabolism.  Honestly, the only reason Mom gave it a whirl was because she was so gosh darned amused at how I sounded doing the HA! breath!  Or maybe she just couldn't resist, at her age & "saggy baggy elephant" physical appearance, trying out "Bikini Breath."  


Mom hoped breath work might fill in for some of the strenuous exercises she’d had to give up as her bones creaked more & her muscles became less flexible.  She did not expect it to have an immediate impact on the low-grade stress & borderline depression that were often part of her day, something she kept well hidden from the rest of us (who were too inexperienced in the ways of the elderly to notice).   

Little did Mom realize how swiftly & profoundly even the most basic breath work exercise would increase her sense of relaxation & sense of well-being!


As the Gramster reached into her upper 80s & then passed 90, relaxation techniques became a godsend in her life.  Unbeknownst to me until days later – when Mom would tell all, always in a voice of wonder – she’d feel herself falling prey to dark moods, to the stress that seems prevalent in a lot of the elderly.  When she felt the darkness creeping in, she’d sit upright in her chair & do a couple breath work exercises.  It was rare – very rare – that the darkness didn’t begin to lift immediately.  

Mom’s #1 exercise for shaking off the blues was something she called The Sigh – she’d take a moderate (rather than deep) breath through her nose, then   s l o w l y, steadily release it through her mouth & nose.  As she released the breath, she’d relax her muscles, particularly those in her face, jaw, shoulders, back & abdomen.  Mom talked about the deep sense of peace this brought on, how her lips & ears felt especially relaxed, how a sense of well-being seemed to fill her whole body after just a few “sighs.” 

Mom was a woman transformed!  The realization that SHE could do something to send stress & baseless worry out the door gave her an awesome sense of unexpected empowerment.  Mom didn’t know why feeling more relaxed had such an uplifting impact on her sense of well-being, but there was no arguing with success – it did.  She wanted MORE!   

The two of us would sit at the computer, researching relaxation techniques, especially ones well suited for “ancients” such as herself.  She was ready for more, eager for it.

Mom patted herself on the back when she read about the importance of regular meals – hunger is often a doorway to depression, especially with the elderly.  Not my mother!  She always started her day with a hearty breakfast, made a substantial lunch & enjoyed whatever I made for dinner, along with morning, afternoon & evening snacklings - “elevensies,” as she called them, whatever the time of day. 

Simple changes to her exercise routine made a big change in how Mom felt during & after the sets – out went doing them at the exact same time every morning, afternoon & evening; in came mixing up calisthenics & breath work, moving out the tried & true for something experimental.   

She bought a bright yellow stress ball, which was kept at the ready for her to squeeze throughout the day – Mom would explain to questioning friends how the simple act exercised her hand muscles & helped keep her arms limber.  

Only the nastiest of weather (or ice) kept her from getting out every day,  even if it was just the short walk to & from the mail box.  

 Oh, her joy at learning that a couple cups of caffeine helped boost spirits!  (She’d dreaded the possibility coffee might be a depressant.)   

If she felt restless, she’d haul out the cross word puzzle that was always by her side or in her handbag ~or~ she’d write a letter to Kerry or Peggy or Ellen or one of her many distant family & friends.

Even sweeping the kitchen floor helped relax her, doing it as part of her zen of housework.  
 
I guess we were both pretty surprised to learn that they ALL helped Mom relax when she’d tense up or felt down in the dumps.  That simple things can reduce, even kick out, stress & depression; that doing them every day helps keep us relaxed, helping keep our spirits up, our sense of balance on even keel, and our sense of personal worth & happiness in tact, even blooming.  Not just olders - ALL of us!

Quite the eye opener.  Never thought how feeling relaxed can be a natural antidote for even the worse blues.  Not until I saw its impact on my "ancient" Mom. As she'd say ~ praise the Lord, bless the Lord for the potent power of relaxation!
 

FYI – it’s important to talk to a doctor before beginning any serious breath work program.  Some exercises can be dangerous for people, even if they don’t have serious health issues.  Better to be safe than conked out on the floor!

http://goodrelaxation.com/2012/05/top-relaxation-techniques-for-elderly/

Monday, September 22, 2014

The Power of PERSONALITY

When it came to personality types, most folks who knew both my mother & myself considered us two peas in a pod.  HA!  We were both social, loved doing for others, treasured family & friends, and threw great parties. In other, far more substantial ways,we were light years apart.  

Our differences were compounded by Mom's refusal to acknowledge them. To almost her final years, she clung to her belief we were one & the same in personality.

Praise be, by the last few years of her life, we'd found ways to recognize the differences enough that we could work with them, instead of having them work against us.  

One of the most important things we did ~ perhaps THE most important thing ~ was simply acknowledging the differences in our personalities. 

Okay, honesty makes me acknowledge that some part of Mom never fully accepted that her personality & mine were light years apart.  It took a looooooong time, but the day finally dawned where I could make that be okay.  

One of the things I learned over the years, with Mom & other older friends, was that I could fight a lose-lose battle to get them to bend to my will ~or~ I could let go of exerting my personality over theirs.  Ironically, I became more pliant, more giving, certainly more emotionally flexible - traits more like Mom's personality.  

If I'd rigidly maintained the "integrity" of my personality, the last few years might not have gone as well as they did.  And I am not saying that clashes didn't happen - they certainly did.  But not to the extent they had when I was younger & more heavily invested in being RIGHT.  

It should be noted that if Mom was writing this post, it's quite possible she might be saying much the same thing - that she learned to step back from holding on too tightly to what HER personality held dear & true & RIGHT.  

There's no understating the power - for good or ill - of personality when interacting with older friends.  In my experience over the decades, one of the great gifts that comes from working with the elderly is the grace of stepping past the details, doctrines & dogmas of personality - the things that divide & disrupt - to find ways to bridge the two, to come to a greater meeting of minds, even if it means putting the "voice" of my own personality on mute.  

Some people might call that selling out, caving - even when the older is dealing with mental emotional cognitive challenges often associated with aging.  

Doesn't look that way to me.  Maybe the greatest power of personality is to recognize - ideally together, but maybe winging it on our own - & respect differences, if they exist, helping the older feel secure in his or her  personality.  

It can be HARD getting past the feeling that they are winning somehow, but just that thought is a clue how easily things can spiral from personality differences to personal power plays. 

Personally, I found - with Mom & other clients, older friends - more value in muting my personality while respecting theirs, in playing up the power of their personality rather than insisting my own win the day.  

When I act from an appreciation of an elder's personality - however exasperating or even irrascible it might seem - oh, the new softer awareness of what truly matters flows into my life as I find a more gentle, tender hand that I can then place on theirs.

The blink of an eye

Comparatively speaking, that's how long our American culture has made segregating elders into "senior lifestyle communites" in what feels like the norm, at least for a certain demographic of the elderly.  Just a shade over fifty years - the first "active adult" community opened on January 1, 1960.

That's all - just a reminder that we have separated our older family & friends for a short period of time.  In the 1960s, their benefits targeted the active olders who wanted great weather, little to do in the way of home upkeep, a pretty terrific way to live their golden years.  Fifty years later, the beneficiaries are as much their children & younger relatives, who have less time & energy to spare.  And that is not going to change.  In 1960, even 1970, 2-income families were rare.  By 1980, they were more common.  Today, they are usually a necessity.

I'm just concerned about the dynamics.  Wishing...  Not sure what I am wishing.  But something different is out there to make life more enriched for my older friends & less exacting on the youngers who love & care for them. 

The Power of B-O-R-E-D

A grannie client occasionally calls me up to announce, "I'm B-O-R-E-D!" ~ my cue to hoof it over & hie her away to some adventure.  

Praise be, she still experiences boredom, still expects to shake it off, to get engaged with activity, with energies, with full-throttle living.  It feels to me that a lot of people - even at her very nice, full-service, lots of activities senior residence - live with a chronic base note of boredom, a muted but persistent sense of listlessness, of not having anything they have to do or particularly want to do.  It becomes their expectation.  Not this grannie client!

We've talked about how different her life is now than it was a few years back.  No house to clean, no meals to cook, no driving that needs doing, no yard to keep up.  As one senior residence puts it, they offer a full range of living options, with services to cover every need.  Sounds lovely!  Except this grannie client was an avid gardener (a small section of a small garden plot isn't the same), loved trying out new recipes, enjoyed having friends over for dinner or just a cuppa.  None of those opportunities really exist where she lives now - the available segment of the small garden plot isn't big enough to satisfy (& it's a 10-minute walk from her apartment, up & down four floors), a nice meal plan ensures she never has to cook, her personal living space is adequate for one but too small to welcome guests.  

Small wonder she gets bored.  And good on her!  Boredom is a good thing, letting her know, "You need stimulation!"  She hasn't - I doubt she ever will - succumb to accepting an assumption of nothing to do as her norm, with no place she really wants to be. 

There is great power in feeling B-O-R-E-D.  It's often not convenient for her family or for me, but ~ praise be ~ she still experiences boredom, still expects to turn it around.  

Many a time, I've asked, "How about reading?" or "Great time to write in your journal!"  Perhaps I'll suggest heading over with a book or journal to a nearby coffee spot - just across the driveway & down a few steps (a rare amenity - most senior lifestyle communities aren't anywhere near such off-site amenities). Or I could just assure her to hold tight, we're getting together later on.  

It's hard for busy, fully-engaged (often maxed out) youngers to recognize, let alone understand the dangers of boredom in older age.  Every one of the senior "communities" that are home to my grannie clients is filled with men & women who were lived fully active, productive lives - to most of them, it seems the blink of an eye ago that they were busy with jobs, with home making, with establishing & growing a career, with getting from here to there without a care.  

Now, they are limited.  Even those who drive normally shy away from being on the road after dusk.  They might need a cane or a walker or a wheelchair, which has to be hauled into & out of vehicles - usually not by themselves.  

It's understandable that many fall prey to boredom, which leads to a sorry sense of uselessness.  Because with all those worries about yard work & housekeeping, grocery shopping & meal making, family duties & maintaining connections with a circle of friends came a constant sense of being productive, being useful, of making a meaningful contribution to a bigger picture.

Never underestimate the power & importance - at any age - of feeling like you're making a meaningful contribution to a bigger picture.  Few of my classmates, in our early 60s, have a clue what it's like to not have anything that truly needs our attention.  Having a few golden hours with nothing to do still seems a rare & much-appreciated luxury.  And what parent busily corralling youngsters, chauffeuring them from here to there, juggling work/parenthood/marriage doesn't dream of time all to themselves?  But have them live even a week with nothing that needs to be done, nowhere they need to be - and no way to get there.  They'd run back to their responsibilities with joy unbounded!

At 62, my everyday routines provide a sense of worth that rarely registers on my radar, yet is always there.  Writing this blog post, am actively engaged in a productive doing, giving me something to focus on.  When I finish, something new will exist that didn't before.  For my Mom, that might have been a loaf of bread or a mended sock, a clean toilet or a favorite meal.  

Just because people grow older doesn't mean they enjoy a deep sense of calm contentment.  In even the finest "no worries" senior residence, many - maybe the majority - of seniors have a persistent sense of restless rootlessness. How...  I don't know the word for it.  How does it feel for someone like all of my grannie clients, promised a "vibrant community" when you so vividly remember what true community was in your life - and it's nothing like what you have?

Praise be for grannie clients who are B-O-R-E-D!  And good on them for letting others know!  That gives family & friends & caregivers & others the opportunity to help stop a too-easy spiral into tension, anxiety & depression.  To keep eyes from getting dull, to keep spirits from going from listless to lackluster to sad.  

Grannies (& gramps) of the world - Keep those phone calls coming! Keep your expectation of being engaged, energized & empowered on HIGH!  Never succumb to the expectation of endless dull days & lackluster lives!  Let being B-O-R-E-D  be a spur to activity, with others or on your own!