I remember noticing the first real signs of dementia in my mom. The neurologist told us she was headed in this direction, but I didn’t want to believe him. I stayed in denial until one of her good friends called me and told me she was concerned.
In the beginning, I really didn’t try to adapt to the changes she was going through. My eyes wanted to see the mom I always knew, the superwoman who took charge of things, so I’d get angry and impatient. I had a hard time practicing compassion because I thought she was faking it or grasping for attention. I’d throw fits and lose my cool, which only upset her more. Every minute I had to spend with her became something I had to endure. I kept looking for her where she wasn’t instead of where she actually was. And so it took a while for me to accept her the way she was.
I missed my relationship with my mom. We used to be able to walk the beach together, cook together, or meet up for dinner after work. She hosted all of the family holiday dinners and took pride in having everyone over for pasta with her homemade sauce and chicken parmesan. We celebrated in our traditions, and it kept our family close. Then it stopped.
I remember showing up to her house to help her prepare Thanksgiving dinner in 2020. She opened the door and looked at me in desperation. “Christina, I don’t remember how to do anything!” That was the moment everything shifted for me. That was the moment I chose to put on a new pair of glasses and start looking at this dementia in a new way.
We got through it. The turkey came out perfect, all the sides were prepared as they always had been. As soon as we got into the kitchen, we were in sync. We got out her recipe box and we got to work. And we had fun.
Fun! What a concept! Could I actually make my new experience with her fun? That was an idea I hadn’t considered. Maybe instead of reacting to her decline with frustration and resentment, a little laughter wouldn’t hurt. After all, there really wasn’t anything fun about dementia, but if I could somehow bring laughter to it, she and I could create a new kind of relationship.
It’s a lot less stressful with this fresh perspective, which leads me to my point of this story. Perspective is many times the key to transformative thinking. Perspective is your mindset, and when you shift it and bring new insight and curiosity to it, it has the power to heal. I think back to three years ago where every visit with my mom was a struggle. And today, because I accept it and see it differently, I can enjoy every moment with her. What used to make me fly off the handle is now something we both turn into a “funny”, which makes it so much easier to flow together. She doesn’t take it too seriously if I don't. And if she gets upset and starts knocking herself down because she knows her brain doesn’t work the same, I help her look at it from a different perspective, which she receives in love and gratitude.
My perspective today embodies loving kindness, compassion and gratitude instead of anger, resentment and impatience. And when I send these healing thoughts to her or someone else, everything around us shifts.