Disclaimer

I am not a doctor. I am providing information based on experiences that my mom has with natural remedies. The purpose of this blog is to help folks to educate themselves. Use this information with your own discernment.

09 February 2010

A Stitch In Time

Last night was an OK night.  I slept through the night but my mom, she got dressed and sat in her room in the dark until I woke around 6am.  I think I heard her around 4:30 or 5 this morning, but she didn't squeak the floor.  I assumed she had gone back to sleep.

Our Internet went out last night around 9p, right after I posted my last post to my blog. 

I began missing the internet immediately, asking myself questions...  How did I ever work from home in the past with just a dial-up line?  How did I get along with out instant information at my finger tips or have the ability to communicate with anyone in the world, from the comfort of my chair?

This morning, anxious to get back to work, I began to try and solve my bad router issue.  I pulled out an old router and began to turn into the Geek I have been for so many years before becoming my mom's Care Giver.  It didn't work.  Oh well, I was ready to wait until tomorrow for the new router to arrive.

I began to work, analyzing code that I'm working on.  The computer was grinding and churning, doing it's work. I decided to dig out all of my old notes and files that I had from the days when I was a Systems Engineer. 

Upstairs, my mom greeted me in the kitchen.  She was becoming bored and agitated from having nothing to do.  My goal for months has been to get her interested in some activity that she can do by herself. 

Knitting?

Knitting was the first activity that I attempted to get her interested in.  She always loved to knit and would make us slipper boots from yarn when we were kids.  I loved those boot things, they made it so easy to slide across the living room floor.  No luck getting her to knit.  Her eyesight isn't very good and she can't maneuver the yarn like she once could.  Knitting frustrated her amd made things worse; she got to see what she couldn't do.

Painting?

Painting was next on the list.  My sister had her paint a few weekends ago.  She painted one painting and then that was the end of painting.  She wasn't interested in it.  Bummer.  The painting will be one we can treasure someday when she's gone.

This morning, while looking for reference materials that I can use for my new job, I noticed a pile of quilting fabric quarters and my sewing machine.  I love quilting during my "spare" time.  Of course I don't have any spare time. I haven't been using the fabric that I have to make all the quilts that I want to make.  That's when I thought, "Yes!  I'll get Ma to make the quilts!" 

Sewing?

I asked my mom, "Would you like to sew?  I have so many quilts to make, maybe you can help me?"

Oh, she loved the idea.  I let her pick out the fabric and began by giving her one simple repeatable task.  First, put all the pins in the pin cushion.  Next, pin the fabric together ... like this.... 

Happily my mom sat in the sunroom with the TV on as she pinned the fabric together.  I would check her work and help her to make it right.  She told me she was having fun, it helps to pass the time.  I'm hoping that she can operate the sewing machine.  It's a simple machine so I don't expect her to have trouble. 

My mom loved to sew.  So many times throughout my life she talked about the coat that she made my sister Ann when she was a toddler.  She had made it from scratch.  She made the pattern with a brown paper bag.  It was her favorite thing that she had ever made.  There's a picture somewhere with Ann wearing that coat.  I do need to find it and add it to this post someday.

Today, it appears that my mom is happy.  She feels that she's got a purpose, even if it is just sewing fabric together for lap quilts.  One day, those quilts will be beautiful reminders of the day my mom made her stitch in time.

08 February 2010

The Hawk Messengers

In American Indian lore, hawks have the ability to travel between both worlds, the now and the hereafter; bringing with him messages for the observer.

Red Tailed Hawks have made their way back into my life, flying over my back yard, with a message for me to receive today. 

Just last week, on Wednesday, one  flew low and glided by my office window.  The sight of this massive bird, took my breath away, I knew it was bringing me a message.  The day I saw the hawk fly low was the day my mom freaked out and cried, she believed that I was admitting her to a nursing home. 

Through the power of love, I was able to overcome this huge upset with my mom.  I got her to believe me, that this is her home and we love her.  It lasted about 5 days. 

Why the setback?

Writing today, I looked out my window and up toward the sky as I often do,  pondering my next thought ... I spot the hawk, flying in circles as it glided on an air current.

What message could the Hawk be bringing to me today, what is it that I need to know or do? 

Looking more closely, I observe a pair of Hawks flying in the sky above my back yard.  Annoyingly, crows attempted to chase the hawks, but the raptors flew unadulterated by the crow's nagging. 

Today, unlike any other day, the hawks flew strong, they flew together in unison, ignoring the 3 black crows who appeared to be on a mission to exterminate the great hawks from my view.

How does one determine the message from the Great Hawk Spirit that visits? 

My mom, she's a little uneasy today, thinking she's got to go somewhere.  She was up at 3:30am and at 5am this morning, she was up and fully dressed, waiting to go somewhere... when asked where she was going, she had no idea.  She told me that "the girl" was coming for her. 
Today I started my new job. Could my job be causing her confusion?  It is a change in our routine. But, something still wasn't right this morning, even after I seemed to talk her off the ledge that she put herself on.  I waited awhile and checked on her again. Upon entering her room, she had her coat ready to put on and a plastic bag filled with random things. 

Her purse.  A clean pair of socks.  A clean pair of jeans.  Two pairs of gloves. 

What hidden meaning is in the bag? 

Hidden clues, inside the bag, silent messages with no apparent rhyme or reason.   Something is making her feel that she needs to go to her "other house"... there is no other house, so what is the underlying cause for her searching for home?

Wherever she thought she was going, was only for the day, she told me that she'd be back tonight.  Uncle Al visited a lot today, he's still alive in a nursing home. My mom is worried that he's coming to live here, she does not want him in living here. I assured her that this is our home and Uncle Al will still live at the nursing home. I'm not sure I got through to her.

My mom was cold today, she told me that she was shivering to the bone.  The thermostat in her room was reading 78 degrees farenheit.  It was hot... I broke out in hot flashes.  My mom was cold and I had to do something.  I knew I needed to help make her feel at home.

The hawks message was for me to pay attention to my mom.  To listen and watch for the clues that could be causing her to be uneasy.  I did.

I heated the heating pad while she put on her pajamas.  I spoke to her in a soft and upbeat voice.  I hugged her a lot. 

We'll see what happens tonight, if she sleeps through to the morning.

Stay tuned.  I feel like I figured it out and that tonight everyone will sleep through the night.

07 February 2010

The House of Cards

Living with the demented is like living in a house of cards; fragile and defenseless against any wind, even the slightest breeze can bring the house down. 

It's easy for a Care Giver to feel as though we are walking on a ceiling of glass, waiting for it to break with the weight of our load.  Care giving is difficult because no one really seems to appreciate what you do.  The main reason that it becomes imperative to have an ego box at your door.  Our duties becomes expected because we've always done it.  No glamore, no pay and no life... this appears to be the life of a care giver. 

Why the hell do we do it then?

I can only speak for myself.  It's because of love.  Love for my mom and love for myself.  I feel honor in helping my mom, not all the time though, I'm no saint.  I do strive toward being "saintly", why not?  It's good Karma and it's just as easy to be nice as it is to be an ass hole.


Navigating through a demented world, it's our responsibility to keep life together for ourselves.  The challenges of balancing our lives while watching a parent move closer toward infancy, closing their circle of life before they take their final curtain call, can often suffocate the care giver.  I know.  I've been there more than once.

Each time it happens, I am forced to reexamine my beliefs, things that I believed to be true... things that were clearly evident as being false, if only I had allowed myself to see with my eyes and not with my heart.  But, life happens and each blip on my journey with my mom makes me ask questions of myself.  I look for answers and solutions, looking outside of the box and looking deep within my soul for a road to peace and happiness. 

Communicating with the demented mind is the most difficult aspect of care giving for those with mental imparement.  It's not only a challenge for the care giver to understand what the loved one needs; the patient has a challenge with self-expression. 

I would imagine it's the frustration that a baby might feel, not being able to tell their parents what they want, it appears similar for my mom with dementia.  Some days she tries like hell to tell me what she wants but can't find the right words.  She will call her grandson her nephew, her brother her son... no rhyme nor reason, just a problem with words. 

Finding words to express the self is a problem that seems to scare folks when communicating with the demented.  Our minds expect a certain word or phrase but it's not delivered, causing our brains to twist and stop.  To me, communicating with my mom is akin to ones brakes locking up and sending ones car spinning out of control.

The more that my mom can't find her words, the fewer visitors she receives.  No one calls her on the phone anymore.  It makes my mom cry, she's waiting for her family... they never come.  She misses the kids she never sees or talks to.  It's tough when she's crying, asking me to find them because she believes that they need us, that they are in trouble.  It's these little exchanges that are toughest on the care giver. 

Like a parent, we want to stop our loved one's emotional pain.  We want to make it all better, just like they used to do for us, but in this instance, we can't.  We can only control our actions.  We can't make anyone do anything, regardless how much you believe that if the siblings got involved our parent would be happy. 

The lesson that I learned is ignore your brothers and sisters who don't want to be involved.  Trying to change their minds or get them involved is a futile effort and a waste of energy.  I know.  I cried way too many hours over the absence of my family before I realized it's stupid to cry because they are afraid to face death through the eyes of our mom.

From experience, communicating with my mom can be done.  It takes a little patience and a lot of listening.  When visiting my mom, folks need to listen to what she's saying, not the words, but the feeling in her voice.  Her tone, the inflection in her voice, all helps provide clues with how to communicate effectively with the demented mind.

Communicating is best done through the heart.  It's emotions that my mom feels.  These emotions transcend time and space, it knows no boundaries.  If someone is upset or aggitated around my mom, she will be more likely to use the wrong word to express herself.  If she's nervous or scared, all bets are off, she becomes a babbling idiot and people around her are frightened, especially her family.

Love is the universal language, especially for the demented mind.  Love is the glue that holds the house of cards together, giving it strength to weather even the toughest storm.

05 February 2010

The Power of Hugs

Our house is finally calm, something that I wasn't sure we'd ever experience until our mom's were both gone.  But, we did it, we have peace in our home.

My mom, she was at a place mentally that sent her spiralling downward; all caused by two words, NURSING HOME.  Those two words together made my mom sob and shake uncontrollably in fear, she does not want to go to a home, not now, not ever. 

Getting through this last bump on my trip down the highway of dementia was no easy feat.  I cried.  I was on the verge of giving up and just saying fuck it, you're going!  But... when I had that thought, the thought of dumping my mother, getting rid of her, it made my stomach sick.  My blood pressure elevated to unhealthy levels.  My stress was so intense that I felt physical pain in my body.  I cried a lot before I realized that crying wasn't going to solve anything, only action on my part; I needed to figure something out.

I read an article somewhere on the web that told me to hug my mom because the behaviors she had been displaying were signs that she was scared.  Wanting to go home, that just meant she was frightened and was looking for a safe place.   Her hallucinations are more prevalent when she's scared, this made my job of turning things around much more difficult.

I had to turn this around!

Initially, she wouldn't hug me back.  She stood still like a board, not offering any emotion in return except for anger.  My mom was angry with me.  She believed that she was going to be put in a shitty nursing home, like the one her brother currently lives. 

Checking my ego at the door, keeping it locked up, is what helped me to get through this last round of upset.  I laughed when my mom got mad.  I couldn't help it.  I was looking at the whole scene like I was inside a movie.  It helped to laugh.  The sound of laughter seemed to shift my mom's thinking from anger to "hey, what's so funny, share the joke with me!" 

Slowly my mom came around.  I gave her positive suggestions using hypnosis techniques, the mind is still suggestible even with dementia.  I also gave her a homeopathic remedy for thyroid, it lifted her melancholy and increased her appetite.  She doesn't eat when she's in a demented spinout.

Life is peaceful in our home once more.  My mom knows that she lives here, today anyway.  I now have her sit in our sitting room next to the kitchen during the day so that she sees the sun.  The TV is easy for her to operate in there, just local channels with a simple remote control.  The sun shines in that room.  It's reminesce of her bedroom that she had in the house that I had bought for us to live, a place that she loved, a home where she felt safe.

Today, I understand the power of hugs so much more.  I love hugging people... I love getting hugs.  Hugs are universal, they do not require any language to be spoken.  To me, a hug is like being wrapped in angel wings of comfort and love by a human angel.

We all need angels, especially human angels that come to our rescue during our darkest hours, filling our hearts with light through a hug.

I've learned the power of hugs and now I'll give them out more freely.  If you need a hug, call me... If I need a hug, I'll call you!  Deal?

04 February 2010

Thumbs Down Good

Yesterday I spent the day doing things that would help my mom feel that she's wanted here in our home.  The talk of nursing homes, the memory of the bus trip and the call from the nursing home looking for her, freaked her out.  It shook my mom to her core, she cried, which shook me to my core.

The memory of my mom sobbing didn't make me feel too good yesterday.  I was up the night before last, wide awake, crying all night.  My heart was heavy.  I didn't know if I could keep going on as a care giver, mostly because I'm tired and need a break from it. 

Explosive shits, nothing like cleaning one up to create thoughts of hopping in my truck and driving away as fast as I can.  As fun as it was to fantasize about getting the hell away as fast as possible, I chose to stare this trouble down, pull myself up and create a positive attitude.  It seemed to be the only solution to a potential nightmare with my demented mother.

A positive attitude rescued me from going to the dark side of life, the place without joy, Hell on Earth.  I don't know about you but Hell sucks.  Especially when you are trapped with a demented person who has the ability to amplify all your emotions.  The secret of escaping this awful place is to leave all negative thoughts in the box by the door.  It's difficult because we the Care Giver need to remember that our ego is the biggest troublemaker and all issues with our wards usually stems from our egos.

Yesterday, my mom was still angry with me.  She sat with a tight face, her angry look.  I always hated her angry look and yesterday, after a night of no sleep, seeing my mom sob and cleaning up shit, it took all I had to see past the angry face and understand why she was frightened.

It all comes down to the thought of being admitted to a nursing home, my mom's greatest fear.  Somehow I was able to convince her that she is staying her with us, that this is her home.  I hugged my mom a lot yesterday, all through the day, I would hug her and tell her how much we love her.  I fed my mom a steady stream of love yesterday, love from my heart and she felt it.  She responded like a wilting flower that perked up and stood tall with just a little attention.

At bed time, I asked my mom, "So, how are you doing?  Do you feel better than you did last night?  My mom replied with a big smile on her face, "Yup, thumbs down!" 

She didnt' mean to use those words, she was trying to tell me that she felt really great.  She continued on as I looked puzzled, attempting to understand what she was trying to say, "I trust you.  I believe you.  I am home."  My mom said to me with a smile.  Her face was soft, the tightness from her fright had lifted, we were all in for a very good night of solid sleep.

Last night, we all got to sleep with God... Amen!

02 February 2010

I'm the Last One...

My mom had a fairly good day.  She was clear and able to change the simple TV remote control that we have set up with regular over the air TV broadcasts.  It works out great for her, giving her the sense that she's improving.

I did my mom's hair this morning, using new rollers that I picked up on Sunday.  Her hair came out really great.  The new rollers made her hair much curlier; she loved the curls and her new hairdo.

After lunch, I promised her that I'd take her out, I needed a few things at the market for dinner.  We had a nice trip around Whole Foods.  My mom pushed the cart all over the store, she was exhausted when we were done.

We got home and I decided to do some laundry before making dinner.  The phone rang.  I didn't hear it until I heard a voice, it was Blaire House talking to my mother!  My mom picked up the phone and then I picked up an extension.  I began talking, my mom was listening. 

I went upstairs with the phone and my mom had placed the extension phone on the table next to the chair.  She began to walk around me, not taking her eyes off me, keeping her distance.   She was scared... OF ME!

Blaire House wanted to know why my mom hasn't been there.  I told them that she's been sick.  I also told them that the bus ride scared the shit out of her and she doesn't want to go. 

My mom, from whatever she heard, she believed that I was calling "the nut house" to have her admitted.  She went from cool and calm to a total nut case. 

Today I needed patience.  It took a lot to be calm and talk her off the ledge she put herself on with wild thoughts.  It is my fault, I opened up the proverbial Pandora's Box, my mom's greatest fear is going to a nursing home; this week I brought those words up several times.  She thinks that she's going tomorrow.

My heart is heavy and it aches.  Tonight, for the first time in my life, I saw my mom cry because she was scared.  It was like no sight I have ever seen.  Her lip quivering, eyes welling with tears as she blubbered out, "I'm the last one, it's my turn to go to the nut house.  My mother, my sister, my brother and ... NOW ME!!!!!!!!!!  Booo Hooo tears that I have never seen, poured out of my mom's eyes.

My eyes filled and I climbed in bed and laid next to her.  I hugged my little mom, who laid crying in bed, shaking from the fear of the thought of going to a nursing home. 

"Susie, do you know what they do to people in those places?"  she cried.  I cried.  I sobbed along side my mom.  I felt her give up on living.  She started to tell me to leave.  I wouldn't.  I stayed.  I reassured her that when she sees me she's home.  I told her that she's staying home tomorrow.  I gave her Reiki and prayed.  I said the Hail Mary, I prayed to Mary with all of my heart.  I prayed for my mom to have peace.

My mom wouldn't stop crying.  I started to sob, sitting up in the middle of the bed, crying.  I didn't know what to do, I didn't know how to calm my mom.  Nothing was working because I wasn't calm... I was stuck in a bad place, I needed a miracle.

Crying got through to my mom, she heard her daughter crying, she embraced me and told me to stop, that everything is OK.  We stopped crying.

Tonight during the craziness of bedtime, my mom told me that she was sad because she wasn't going to see anyone anymore.  I asked her what she meant.  She couldn't tell me.  She cried.  Her face was white as a ghost.  She believes that tomorrow she's going to a nursing home to live.

My mom, she's horrified to go to a nursing home.  She's seen them all her years, with her mother, sister and brother all in a convalescent home; she's scared.  She's afraid of abuse.  She's afraid of all the scary things associated with a home.

She's not going to a home, not tomorrow. 

Tonight, I went upstairs for water and saw my mom awake.  She saw me and ran around the corner to hide.  I went to see if she was OK.  Well, I gagged.  The clean sheats and mattress pad that I JUST took out of the drier and put on her bed, soiled.  Oh well. 

My mom, she was scared when she made a little mess, for years I told her that when she can't control her bowels, it will be time for a home.  God... what awful timing for her bowels to let go, tonight of all nights.

Of course I was gentle with my mom.  Not making a fuss and getting clean sheets on her bed.  I sprayed them with lavender scented water and dabbed lavender oil on the pulse points of her wrist and behind her ears and one at the base of her throat.  She drifted back to sleep as I smoothed her hair behind her ear and told her that everything will be OK.

"I Want to Go Home" ... What Does She REALLY Mean?

Yesterday I began the search for nursing homes for my mom.  It was a tough day, mostly because deep down, I really don't want to do it. 

Finding a home and doing the research appears to be a monuental task, a full time job.  But, it will get done, the outcome will be better for my mom and me.

I want to go home... what does it mean?

Feeling a bit dejected yesterday, I did a search on the internet to see if I could figure out what my mom really means when she says she wants to go home.  Her words, she can't find the right ones, are never as they seem.  It's the deeper meaning, the underlying cause that is important to hear, the silent words, the ones left unspoken, these are the words we need to hear when with the demented.

I found this article on Caring.com which talks about the meaning, of "I want to go home" from the demented.  The jist of the article is that the individual is insecure and scared.  They are looking for the comfort and safety of home.  It could be any home that my mom has lived in during her life, a home where she felt safe. 

Obviously she can't go back to any of her former homes, even if she did, it would be different and not home.  The solution that the article provide was to hug her.  To let her know that she's loved right where she is. 

All the talk of going to a nursing home really threw her off kilter.  It's when I started to bring her to Blaire House for day care that she really started to roam the house again, night after night, looking for a way to go home. 

My mom is scared of nursing homes.  She's afraid of being abused or worse, left alone.  My mom. maybe she really just wants to go to her home in heaven or wherever we go when we die.  I don't know, I'll never really know for sure. 

All I can do while I visit and research nursing facilities that it's a place that I could live.  It will more than likely cost us some money but, my mom is worth it.  I can earn the money, like my brother Ed always used to say, "You don't have money?  Well just go make more."  What a philosopher!

One thing that I have not tried yet was making the subliminal recording using hypnosis techniques on my mom.  I was having trouble with the words to use as suggestions for her demented mind.  Dementia, it's new to me, I'm learning as I go along what is right and what isn't.  Just as my dad taught me as a little girl when he had me look at that flag in his text book, then look at the wall... nothing is ever as it seems, especially with the demented.

Yesterday, I had my epiphany with the subliminal recorded messages for my mom, the phrases that I will use to help my mom flooded my thoughts as I prepared dinner last night.  Chopping vegetables always seems to trigger solutions in my mind to things that are troubling.

Today, I will make my mom her subliminal recording and have her listen to it all afternoon.

Standby... we'll see if it helps her to relax and sleep all night, feeling that she's already home.  Maybe hypnosis is the missing link, the one thing that my mom needs to help her to function "normally" and remain in my home until her end of days?

01 February 2010

Ma Wants to Go Home

Last Friday, I came to the conclusion that my mother needs to be in a nursing facility.  Over the weekend, I had to come to terms with my mother's condition, she is declining fast.  I feel badly, I wish it were different, I did all that I could to help her have a comfortable old age.  Did I fail my mom because I have to put her in a home?

I'm scared for her.  I'm scared for me. 

Questions are flooding my brain.  My heart is heavy.  My stomach is doing flips and turns... my eyes are leaking.

Will I find the right place for her?  How do I handle her telling me that she hates me when I have her admitted? 

Already she's telling me that she can't stand the sight of me, because I told her that she's becoming too much for me to handle. 

Her abandonment issues are front and center, proved by her clutching her purse, with her coat on, ready to go somewhere at all hours of the day and night ... home is her destination.

My mom wants to go home.  All night, all day, she roams with her coat on, clutching her purse, wondering how she's going to get home.  

The experiences I'm having with my mom are the most difficult of my life.  I do feel alone and abandoned too, everyone offering advice, "Just put her in a home" words that are so much easier said than acted upon.  But, I'll do it and once it's over, I'll be stronger.

My mom wants to go home... I wish I knew where home is. 

Lessons Learned from Dad

Dad wasn't a bright bulb when he first became a dad, what dad is?  Kids don't come with instruction manuals.

My dad was uneducated and could not keep a job. Not because he was a direlect, it was just how it seemed to work out for him. He struggled a lot through his life as an uneducated man.  Did his thoughts create his troubles?

In his late 30's early 40's he went back to school, after the bursitis in his elbow caused him to have to quit his job as a shoe die maker. He went back to school and got his GED.

I was 9 when my dad went back to school. My dad taught me the importance of education through his example. We did our homework together at the table, one of my favorite things to do with my dad.  He'd also write a vocabulary word on Marty's toy chalk board, every morning, with the definition.  My dad, he encouraged us to try and use the word in as many sentences as we could.  It was his way of helping to build our vocabulary and on a grander scale, my dad taught me to love education.

He went on to college after earning his high school diploma equivalent. Dad loved psychology and all things paranormal. My dad believed in UFO's and would sit in the back yard at night with me, we'd look up at the sky and watch for aliens flying by. Once, I remember thinking I saw one and my dad went along with my fantasy. My dad loved to feed my wild imagination and often told me that I would achieve great things in life.  I believed him.

Dad, he taught all of us how to see auras. I remember he lined us up against a big white wall of cabinets in our dinning room. He would have some of us against the wall and the other kids, he'd have standing next to him. He showed us how to see the outline of the energy field around the human body. He told us to squint our eyes a little until it focused in, "look at the top of the head" he coached, "look at the outer edge of the body." My dad was excited to teach us about auras.

The joy I had when I saw my first aura, it was Ed's aura that I had seen. Once we saw the aura around Ed, Dad instructed Ed to move his energy body with his mind. "Eddie, visualize in your mind where you want to go. See yourself moving, but don't move... OK... move!" Dad exlaimed.

We all watched and sure enough, I remember seeing Ed's aura move. It was an energy field, it looked like it was made of a hazy white matter, but I could see through it. I learned that we are energy and our thoughts are real, my thoughts can take me places, places that I later discovered is where I go for peace and sollace.

Dad also taught us about our vision and it's connection with the brain. How the brain sees things that aren't there. I remember looking at a picture of a flag in one of his text books. Dad had us look at the picture and focus on it. Then he had us look up at the white wall. The flag, it was the American Flag, in all it's glory, red, white and blue... floating on the wall. Through this lesson, I learned that nothing is as it seems, we should question things that we "see."

Most importantly, Dad taught me the importance of family and that we need to stick together. This last lesson that I had learned from my dad, is the most daunting for me. Why? Because it's up to my individual siblings to feel the same way about family in order for it to work the way my dad had taught.

I love my dad. He died at 49 but I feel fortunate to have had a chance to know him and learn.  My dad, he was my first real spiritual teacher. He taught me to strive to be a leader. He provided me the courage to beat the odds and break the chain of poverty.  Dad saw my potential and encouraged me, he helped me to believe that I can do anything that I set my mind toward achieving.  I am grateful for my dad, he was the most influential person in my life. 

Often I wonder what would have become of my family and me if he didn't die so young.  Cancer taking his life, leaving my mom at 50 with 5 kids, most of us grown but Marty, he was only 14, too young to lose his dad.

I'll never know if things would have been better or worse if my dad lived.  I do know that we all have lives to live and it's how we chose to live that determines how well we get to live.

30 January 2010

The Puzzle: If You Can't See Me, Do I Exist?

My father would often say to me, "Susie, the only one that you know really exists is yourself.  How do you know anyone else exists, especially once we leave the room.  If you can't see me, do I exist?"

I can remember attempting to answer my Dad's question, "Of course you exist.  I know you exist, that's how." 

"Really?  How can you be sure?  How do you know that I'm not just a figment of your imagination?  How can you be certain that once everyone is gone, they're still there?"  My dad would continue, asking questions that would make me reconsider my definitive answer to his question.

For 30+ years I've pondered this idea that my dad seeded in my young mind, searching for the answer to this simple question, I found the answer to a bigger question, "Who Am I?"

Did my dad know that he was giving me a Zen KONE which would trigger thoughts and ideas that would span my lifetime?  Thoughts that would eventually lead me to find my I AM presence. 

I Exist!

The only person that I can ever count on is myself.  It's the same for everyone, we can only depend on ourselves in our pursuit of peace, happiness and love.  Yes, when we are together as a group, it's powerful and we can create an energy of peace, happiness and love that we can all bath ourselves in.  Together in unity we are able to move mountains and make changes that normally would be deemed impossible. 

Unity.

Family unity... family is a unit of individual souls that chose to take life together.  I believe we pick our families before we even get to Earth.  We chose them because these are the special people that are in our lives to help our spirits grow and move closer to re-uniting with the ONE, God.  I believe our families provide opportunities to help us to expand our hearts and grow.

I believe there's a piece of God in every human on this planet and our soul's mission is to travel through time, live and figure out how to reunite with all the other sparks of God who have already made it back to the big huge ball of Love... God.

If we can't see God, how do we know God exists? 

I know God exists because I exist, I have God inside of me.  You have God inside of you.  I'm not refering to Scary God in the fear sense, like most Christian religions will lead us to believe, but GOD, a happy and loving God.  A God that wants to give us true bliss and happiness.

Once I realized that God is within me, the fear of God that was instilled in me since attending Catholic School as a child, was lifted.  God is not to be feared, we are to be afraid of ourselves.

Huh? 

We all are God in my belief system, each of us creators of our own lives and happiness.  I know God exists because I exist.  I create my happiness.  I create my sadness.  I chose how I will perceive other God's that I interact with all day long, but the most important component of happiness is not putting other God's before me. 

Now, I ask you this question, "If you can't see me, do I exist?"

28 January 2010

Dead Ed is Our New Tenant

My mom had a fairly good day today.  She's declining, I can see it.  I had her get on her Wii Fit today and she couldn't do the measurement and balance parts of the Wii Fit.  Not too long ago, she was so much more with it.  It bummed me out in a big way to see her decline.  My heart sank.  She couldn't do what she could.
Use it or lose it!

It was only 49 days since she got on her Wii Fit.  She's lost 11 pounds in 49 days.  She's in the normal range.  Her Mini-Wii-Mii did a jump for joy with a little fan fare. My mom was so pleased with herself.  She stood a little taller and did a little wiggle.  It was the cutest little dance. 

She is excited to weigh 131 lbs.  She does look fabulous these days.  All of my old cloths are too big for her now.  She is in a size medium... she is EXCITED to be in a medium.  I'm happy for my mom. 

Being her ideal weight has been her deep desire for decades; one of the must do items before she dies.  It will be great for her to reach this goal before it's time for her to take the magic limo out of this insane planet.

She could only exercise for 5 minutes today.  That's OK.  5 minutes is better than no minutes.  Tomorrow, we'll do 5 more minutes.

Tonight, she talked about my brother Ed A LOT!  He has been with her all day. 

Tonight, he was sleeping in bed next to her.  She told me that Ed has been helping people... but he's troubled.  I tried to have her tell me what was troubling Ed but, she just couldn't form the words.

Ed was sitting in the big leather recliner in her room.  "See his toes... over there, see them?' She exclaimed to me, hoping that I'd validate her vision. 

"I don't see Ed's toes."  I said, obviously not thinking. 

"Really?  Look!  Right there... Eddie's got his toes sticking out. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!... SUSIE, DON'T YOU SEE THEM.  IT'S SO FUNNY!"

Knowing that the best thing was to just go along with the hallucination I said, "Oh ya... Hey Ed!  You have funny toes.  They're making Ma laugh.  It's time for bed.  You have got to stop joking around.  Why don't you go downstairs and keep Brian company."

My mom was trying to say something to me, finding her words was impossible, she looked off into some unknown place, looking for the words to help me to understand what she was thinking.  Nothing came to her... "never mind."  She said with dismay.

I asked open ended questions, trying to trigger a memory.  She then said, "Ed, he lives here you know.  He went downstairs.  He lives downstairs in this house.  He's always here.  I love having Ed here."

Ed, my dear dead brother, living in my house... fucking excellent! 

I told my mom, "Here, take these 4 helleborus pellets.... Ed... I'm wicked sorry dude but I am giving Ma the pellets so that she can settle down and sleep.  I want you to come downstairs with me.... Oh?  You willl.  Awesome!"  Talking into the air, mustering up all the acting skills I could in order to be believable to my mom.

"Ma I'm heating up dinner for Brian, I'll be right back." I said to her without skipping a beat.

She said, "Oh, bring Ed with you, I know he'll like to sit with Brian.  Ed is hungry.  Will you feed Ed too?"

"Oh Ma, you know...., Ed doesn't eat human food, he eats Angel food now that helps him to fly."  I said to her with my most convincing voice.

My mom's face softened as she had an "aha!" moment... "good night Susie." she said to me. 

"Good night Ma, Sleep with God."

Where are you going?

My mom has really stepped up her roaming at night.  She is usually fully dressed by the time I hear her squeaking the floor above our bed.

The night before last, she was up at 2, 2:30, 3, 3:30 and again at 5:30am.  The last time, at 5:30am she was dressed, coat on, shoes on her feet, an extra pair of shoes in her hand and her purse clenched in the other hand.  I get to the top of the stairs and she says, "Where were you?"

Still half asleep, I look at my mom and say, "Where are you going?!  It's 5:30 in the morning.  It's still dark outside.  Come on, you need to go back to your room, everyone is still sleeping."

Sleep deprevation.  I understand why it's used as a torture technique.  There is nothing worse than being woken every half hour through out an evening.  Several days of this in a row... God, it's maddening and cuts the line of reason from my brain.

Yesterday sucked.  Mostly because I was extremely tired and a bit peeved that my mom walked around the house with her coat on all day, clutching her purse, waiting to go somewhere... but not with me.  Yesterday she told me that she "hated the sight of me" and that I was keeping her prisoner.  I wouldn't let her leave the house and walk the streets with no destination.

She is mad.  This latest decline started almost 2 weeks ago when she got sick in Costco.  Sick through her back door, which is where I draw the line with Care Giving.  For years I told my mom that once incontinence happened, I wouldn't be able to continue caring for her. 

Our worst nightmare happened. 

It caused a horrible reaction in my mom.  She became more demented and began to not like me.  Reminding myself that it wasn't my real mom talking became more difficult.  I'm far from an angel, I told her that I am looking for nursing homes to put her in.  This made things way worse... yesterday she told me that she hates me.

I've been through these rough stretches before with my mom.  When I'm going through the episode with her I feel like I'll never get out of the place we are in, defeat begins to take root.  I want to cry and most of the time, I do. 



When I cry these days, it's serious crying which seems to snap my mom into "mom mode."  She becomes clear.  She becomes my mom from when I was a little girl, the woman who always had my back and comforted me when my family would tease me.  Every day my dad would say, "Six O'Clock, time for Susie to cry."  I'd start crying, everyone would laugh hysterically.  My mom, she would wrap me in her angel arms and tell them to stop, to leave me alone.

I wonder if I care so deeply for her now in her old age, when she's like a helpless child, because she protected me from my family's fun on my account.

Gradually my mom calmed down yesterday.  We talked.  I cried.  She became my mom for a short time.  Bach's Rescue Remedy, a homeopathic remedy for relaxation, helped.  We both took 4 drops under our tongues.  My mom finally took her coat off around 2:00 yesterday afternoon.  At 2:30 I asked her if she wanted to go to Trader Joe's with me to pick up a few things. 

We talked on the drive.  I explained to her that she has 2 options.  Option one which I feel is the best option, is for her to go to the "Senior Club" during the day and sleep at home in the evenings.  I will prepare all of her meals and take her to all of her doctors appointments.  The second option is that she goes to live in "the place that I don't want to say" - she knew it meant a nursing home.  My mom she said, "I like the first option."

Wondering why during her final stage of life she is on the move and looking for home, leads me to believe that any change in her routine will cause unrest and her abandoment issues from childhood to come front and center.  

Part of the problem these days is that I have a job.  I have not started it yet.  I need my mom to go to Adult Day Care, there's no way I can work with her home.  She's afraid that I'm going to leave her in the nursing home, a fear that makes her nuts.

My mom doesn't like Blaire House, ever since the nightmare bus ride home.  She won't go, not without a fight.  She's uncertain, she's got deep rooted abandonment issues that are exascerbated by any change in her routine.  However, she still remembers this one phrase, "Susie, I'm still your mother!"  She seems to only remember this phrase at the most opportune time for her; it always stops me in my tracks.

Last night she didn't recognize my husband as she came out of our sitting room, she looked around the house and said to my husband, 'You have a nice place here, I like the atmosphere."  She was looking at our house as though she had been seeing it for the first time.

I tucked my mom in at 8pm and again at 9.  She was in a happy mood.  I gave her Reiki and Hypnosis suggestions.

1 am... squeak, squeak, squeak

My mom was up, fully dressed and standing in the kitchen.  She saw me and said, "What time is it?"  I told her that it was 1am and it was time for her to sleep.  We walked back to her room and I helped her to put her nightgown back on. 

When I woke this morning, my mom was still sleeping.  I checked to make sure that she was still breathing, she was so I know that she didn't pass last night.

I walked into our sitting room and noticed my mom's coat, purse and a pair of her jeans with a clean pair of depends wrapped in the pants sitting on the chair and table.  I wonder where she thinks she's going all the time? 

My question that I ask a lot these days, "Ma, where are you going?"

27 January 2010

Auggie's Lesson to Little Josie: Think First, Then Speak

Growing up, my mom always told me stories about what she could remember about her family.  I always asked her questions, mostly because I wanted to know my entire family.  I got to know the Polish side very well, but not the Italian side, my mom's side of the family.

One of the stories my mom told me was the one about her oldest brother, Auggie.  She loved Auggie, he was 7 years her senior.  My mom worshiped the ground that Auggie walked, she adored him. 

Auggie, like so many young men in the 1940's, enlisted into the U.S. Military to serve our country.  Patriotism was running rampant across America; still high on the success of World War I, many boys couldn't wait to get to war themselves. 

World War II... Wooo Hooo! 

When Auggie had a furlow to come home, he talked to my mom about all sorts of things, mostly the places that he had visited.  He seemed so much wiser to young Jo.  Auggie had been gone to far away lands that my mom only learned about in school. 

During this visit, Auggie said to my mom, "Josie, always think before you speak.  You can never take your words back.  Words cut like a knife.  Think first, then speak."

God bless my little mother, she tried to teach this lesson to me over and over again.  All through out my life she reminded me of her brother Auggie and the last words he spoke to her before he went off to war and stepped on a landmine. 

I didn't learn the lesson then... have I now? 

My tongue can be devilishly sharp.  When I don't think before I speak, when I just let whatever is on my mind fly out of my mouth, it hurts.  Not only does it hurt me but the person that is getting the tongue lashing from me.  It's not right, it's so wrong that just thinking of the people who I've lashed out in my past... man, what an asshole.  I'm so sorry.

I'm VERY SORRY to all the people I've offended in my lifetime.

These words are probably too late for some people.  Like my Uncle Auggie taught my mom and what my mom attempted to teach me, words can not be taken back.  Once the horse is out of the barn, it's out of the barn. 

The secret is to keep the lips shut, think first and then speak.

I never met my Uncle Auggie, obviously... he died when my mom was 14.  My Grandmother didn't want him to go to war.  She hid his uniform.  My mom saw where her mom hid his uniform. 

It was time for Auggie to leave to go back and fly off to France to fight.  He couldn't find his uniform.  He was crying and begging his mom to give him his uniform.  She ignored him.  Probably like my mom does to me these days. 

My mom felt so badly that she went and got Auggie his uniform.  She didn't want to see him cry.  She wanted to see her brother happy.  She gave him his uniform.

Auggie was so happy to see his uniform.  He would have gotten into a lot of trouble without it, that's what he told my mom.  He was so grateful to his little sister Jo.  My Gram didn't care, she was trying to keep him alive by hidding his uniform; she had a premonition.

Often, for reasons that make total sense to us at the time we find ourselves using logic in order to convince ourselves that certain things are OK just because it backs up something that we believe to be true.  Just as I have been working on my personal problem of not thinking before I speak, sometimes I find myself making some logical connection in my brain that makes me feel that spewing is justified.  I spewed today... it felt justified, at the time.

I cried.  I cried.  I cried. 

Today I remembered Uncle Auggie's lesson to my mom, the lesson she really tried to teach me for the last 50 years.  Finally... today... I believe I learned the lesson.  Today, my mom, my little Josie, smiled with a sense of accomplishment painted all over her face.  Why?  She was able to achieve a great feat, help Susie to learn Auggie's Lesson to Little Josie; Think first, then speak.

26 January 2010

What I discovered with the extra time with Ma...



It's no secret, my mom sees a Naturopath Doctor along with an army of traditionally trained Medical Doctors.

Over the course of this last year my mom started to have serious mental decline; an onset that appeared to be like a runnaway locamotive.

It was scary for my mother and for me.  Looking back, I was scared because I wanted my mother, not a crazed old lady who didnt know me.  I was in denial over my mom's mental illness, I didn't want to believe that my mother, the mother that raised me to be who I am today, had left us.  It happened suddenly, that's what happens with Lewy Bodies Dementia, it comes on with no warning, changing your life forever.  I cried a lot.  I worried about my siblings not having a chance to have closure with our mother.

Regrets.... I wanted to help my siblings avoid the pain of "I shoulda' done..."

The worry for my siblings caused me to work over time on finding a "cure" for our mom's mental problems that were brought on by the Lewy Bodies in her brain.  I was on a mission to give her more time on this Earth, allowing more time for my family to spend time with Jo before she was gone completely.

Did I do the right thing? 

I don't know if I did the right thing by working toward extending my mom's life when she's clearly lost her mind.  Her quality of life sucks.  Yes, her life is better than it would be if she were in a nursing home, eating the institutional food and taking the pharmaceutical drugs.  Today, she is with her family, we love her and she feels it every day; I believe I did the right thing for my mom.

What I discovered with the extra time with Ma...

I discovered a solution to my own potential health issues by observing my mom.  My mom's system is super sensitive to everything.  Earning a glimpse into the ill effects of certain foods, I became a better cook and began experimenting with flavors.  Herbs and spices are now part of my food orchestra, each flavor like a musical note that sooths the soul.

My mom is still crazy, some days more than others, but she has taught me that food is medicine.  Certain foods don't agree with her Lewy Bodies, they bring on hallucinations.  I do my best to avoid the foods that cause my mom problems. 

The results? 

My mom doesn't hallucinate as much and we are all losing unhealthy fat.  At one time my mother weighed over 225 pounds and she is only 5 feet tall.  Today, she's 133 pounds, doesn't have sleep apnea issues, her diabetes appears to be cured and her blood pressure is near normal with the help of a little Lisinopril every day.

The story is the same for me.  I was obese.  Unhealthy.  Unhappy.  Sleep apnea.  All issues that were leading me to the road that my mom travelled just 30 years before me.  Today, my sleep apnea is improving, I rarely snore and stop breathing.  I can bend over and touch the floor when I do my morning Yoga exercises.  I feel better not having the fat around my face and belly.  I love the results.

I owe my improved health to my mom's dementia.  Her dementia scared me straight.  It's because of her that I went and found a health solution that worked for us.  It seems to work for all of us here in my household.  Food is art, it's medicine and it's pleasure all wrapped up in one.  I learned that exercise is important and I am important. 

What did I discovered with the extra time with Ma?  I discovered that I have a life, a precious life to live and the only way that I can enjoy my mom's gift of life to me is to take care of myself.  Eat right, exercise, rest and enjoy living.

25 January 2010

Seared Sea Scallops with Tomato in Lemon Butter Sauce


1 cup of chicken broth (organic, low sodium)


1 shallot chopped fine

1 tsp. Fresh lemon juice

1 tsp fresh flat parsley chopped

2 tablespoons butter

16 Sea Scallops (4 per person)

16 large cherry tomatoes cut ¾ through, make 2 cuts to form an X. Separate the tomatoes so that they resemble a flower (use your imagination.)

2 Tablespoons Grapeseed Oil

1 Tablespoon butter

Heat the oven to 300 F

Sear Scallops

In a large pan, put the Grapeseed oil and heat on high. Add the butter and turn the gas down to medium high. Add the Scallops (that have been dried with a paper towel) and sear on both sides. About 3 minutes each side.

Place the scallops in an oven proof dish and place in the oven while you prepare the lemon sauce.

Lemon Sauce

In a sauce pan, add the shallots and chicken broth. Cook on high so that the liquid evaporates to ½. Add the butter, one tablespoon at a time. Make sure the butter is ice cold. Add the lemon juice and parsley.

Put 4 tomato flowers on a dish and place a Scallop on each tomato. Put a Tablespoon of the lemon sauce on each Scallop tomato flower.

Garnish with Grated Asiago Cheese.

24 January 2010

How to Get Started on Attacking Clutter

Clutter.  Piles of papers and mail that you brought in and dropped on the first flat surface... contribute to clutter.  Clutter is contributing to your lack of creativity, the feeling of being stuck. 

All summer, I prefer to be out in the yard, gardening.  The inside work doesn't get done, not like in winter when I begin to live in the clutter and can't understand why all of a sudden I feel bad.  Often I would blame it on the winter doldrums until I began to take notice of my environment. 

My entire life I have battled clutter.  Fighting the tide of all the shit that just wants to pile up and screw up my peaceful energy.  Like an alcoholic, the first thing one who is afflicted with clutter must do is realize that there's a problem. 

Years ago I realized I had a problem with stuff, having too much stuff, not wanting to throw stuff away just in case I needed it.  Clutter caused me to have "lack" thoughts.  I became a horder which didn't help me one bit.  I believed that if I didn't keep all this stuff, I would need it.  I didn't believe that I would have what I needed when I needed it (how I think today and I'm happier.)

Worried that I would never have enough, I kept everything.  Stagnant energy enveloped my life and my life sucked.  I was obese.  I was unhappy.  I felt ugly and unworthy of all the great things in this world.  I was alone, even though I wanted to have someone in my life, I didn't find the right guy for me until years later when I realized that clutter was screwing up my happiness.

What I had learned from this period of my life is that my happiness was being suffocated from the stagnant energy from all of the stuff that I was acquiring.   The stuff was not in any order.  When I needed an item that I knew I had, I couldn't find it so I would go out and buy another one, only to find one day that I had 7 of the same item.  

Clutter was making me insane, I needed to get control of my life... I needed to control my stuff instead of my stuff controling me!

I've read a lot about how to be organized, how to attack clutter and the underlying theme was to stay on top of it.  Once you get the big cleaning job done, the secret is to keep it this way.  A little attention every day as is all that is required. 

Observing myself, I notice that it's easy to fall out of the habit of spending 5 to 10 minutes a day picking things up.  Especially as a care giver, it's even easier to fall out of the habit of picking up every day because one never knows when the next hallucination or emergency will come along.  It does seem that these visual absurdities always come around just as I'm cleaning things up.  I have to stop to help my mom calm down and then I find myself having a difficult time returning to the unfinished task because something else takes my attention.  Before I know it, I've got clutter magnets all over the house, prepared to suck the happy energy out of our home.

Take out your camera and shoot your home!

I've found that if I look at everything in small pieces, snapshots, it makes keeping things clean easier.  If a room feels uncomfortable when I walk into it, I look to see what clutter is creating that sort of energy in the room.  A trick I use is to use my digital camera and take pictures of the troubling room, small areas at a time.  It's like looking at the room with fresh eyes.  I can see the "noise" in pictures, the clutter that is disturbing my life of happiness.

Breaking the clean up into small pieces is like making it into a project that has a beginning and an end.  Part of the problem with cleaning one's home is the approach we take.  Many of us believe that we have to do it all in one day.  I know that's how I was thinking for a long time and found myself in a viscious cycle of clutter and clean. 

People like to have a beginning and an ending.  It gives us a feeling that we accomplished something, which always makes me feel good.  It brings out the happy vibe, my personal goal in this lifetime, to be genuinely happy.  Every little bit of the nectar of happiness counts and adds up, just like when we were kids and we saved out coins.  It added up and allowed us to buy something super.

Save up happiness points, it is like saving pennies in a piggy bank.  Every time we complete something, it gives us a little bit of inner bliss that we add to the bliss bank within our souls.  The place where all the good vibes are stored and add up so that the rainy day blues are kept at bay.

Create an Organization Plan.

Step one:  Take pictures of your living areas

Step two:  Pick one room.  Determine how much time you have to spend on cleaning.  If you have a short time available to you, break the room up into sections.  Use the picture to help you to see which area would be the best place for you to start. 

Step Three:  Start.  Put on music if you must, but get moving.  Once you start moving you will build up momentum and realize the cleaning job wasn't as bad as you thought it would be.  There's a Universal Law of Nature that something in motion remains in motion. 

Step Four:  Move.  Move your body and clean.  Start at the top and work toward the bottom.  Dry clean first and then if necessary finish up with wet cleaning. 

Step Five (or it could be step four): If you have a huge disorganized mess, sort your stuff.  Make piles and put all like things in one pile.  Next, sort each pile and determine if you really need it or if it can be thrown away or donated to good will.

Step Six:  Once you have your sort piles of stuff, measure the piles and determine how many clear plastic containers that you'll need. 

A helpful tip is to buy the containers AFTER you have cleaned and sorted your things.  Buying the containers after, helps you to keep the project under control.  Bringing in containers too soon, too many or too few, not the right size... all of these annoyances will take the focus off your original task of  decluttering.  You will just add to the clutter if you bring the containers in too soon.

Step Seven:  Label each plastic container.  Put in a manifest of all the items that you placed in the box.  Using clear plastic containers allows you to write on a piece of paper and place it on the inside so that you can read on the outside of the box, what's inside. 

Another twist to this idea is what I had started to do with my own stuff that I use when I do home staging.  I took pictures of all of the items that I placed in the box and taped the pictures to the inside of the clear plastic container, facing outward so that I can quickly see what is inside the box.

Step Eight:  When you get your mail, stand over the recycle bin and make a decision on junk mail.  I get a bunch of catalogues.   Before the catalogue even lands on a flat surface, I look at it quickly and if nothing catches my attention, it lands in the recycle bin.  I have less paper clutter when I address the stuff immediately.

Creating a plan to attack the clutter will be time well invested in your future happiness quotient.  Breaking the task of decluttering into small projects will make the task less daunting.  Especially if you have a gargantuan mess.

I remember my cousin Josie, when we were together at my Uncle Al's house, she would always talk about dishes that she had to do at home, or laundry, or whatever.  One day my dad said to her, "Josie, you know that every time you talk about doing those chores, you are doing them in your mind, over and over and over again.  If you just do the task, then you are free to think of other things that are more enjoyable than the drudgery of housework."

Often when I find myself thinking of cleaning a cluttered area that needs attention, I hear my dad's voice in my head, telling me exactly what he told his cousin Josie 30 + years ago, just do it now and free your mind to think of more enjoyable thoughts which will create a happier tomorrow for you.

And that's how to get started on attacking clutter.

22 January 2010

The Negative Effects of Clutter

The majority of people that I know have clutter issues.  We try like hell to keep things neat and orderly but for some reason as soon as a spot is clean, it's like an invitation for some "stuff" to join the beginnings of a clutter party.

It all starts with one little item.  It could be as small as a paperclip or a piece of paper.  All it takes is one person to put something down and it becomes an invitation for more stuff.  It's almost as though having the item on the counter, even the small piece of paper, is like putting out a calling card for more stuff to join it.

I've wondered about this phenomenon for years.

I am one of 5 kids and we lived in a small house.  It was almost impossible to keep the house clean because as soon as something was cleaned, someone would come home and put whatever they had in their hands on the cleaned surface.  The invitation for more clutter, just waiting for the next person to come along and neatly place their item in a neat pile on top of the thing already on the flat surface.

Let the Clutter Begin!

When I lived alone, I swore there were gremlins that came in and put stuff down on areas that I had just cleaned, but soon realized I was the gremlin.  I was creating the mess.

It was easier to take control of clutter when I was alone.  Living with a house full of people, even just one other person, makes it difficult to keep clutter under control.  Everyone has their own clutter thoughts that manifests into our environment.  The more people in your household, the greater the clutter issue.

Clutter

I like to analyze everything in life, especially stuff like clutter.  What's the underlying cause of clutter?  We are the clutter bugs, we are the ones who can keep it under control or not.

Do you ever find yourself able to keep the clutter under control and then at other times, you feel like taking out the big industrial trash bags and filling them with every item in your house?  Holding the thought that if you don't have stuff you can't have clutter!

Unfortunately, I find that clutter comes from how I am thinking.  When I am scattered, tired and lack focus, I have clutter issues because my thoughts are cluttered.  On the outside, the cluttered thinking begins to manifest into piles of papers.  Dishes, as hard as we try, always end up in the sink. 

Dishes in the sink are a great way to take the pulse on your thinking.  It allows you to see this theory of clutter attracting more clutter.  Put one spoon in a cleaned sink.  Even if you live with yourself and no one else, you will find yourself putting another dirty item in the sink next to it.  It seems to be human nature, but really it's a way to see how you are thinking.

For me, I was having 'a dishes in the sink battle' for weeks.  I'd clean all the dishes, load and start the dishwasher and walk away.  I'd come back with more dishes or glasses in the sink!  It got to the point where it happened so much that I started to think about the negative effects of clutter. 

How can I stop it?

Looking within my own mind, I realized that my thoughts are cluttered.  I was fighting a battle that I wasn't going to win until I got to the root of my problem, me.  I control everything about my life, even the clutter. 

We control clutter through our thoughts.

I asked myself, "Sue, how are you thinking?  What thoughts are you holding? Are these thoughts helping you to move closer to the life of your dreams?" 

My thoughts are the things that cause problems for me, as they do everyone else.   What we think today, fills our tomorrow. 

I like to use an analogy about closets to explain the negative effects of clutter.  Our closets hold the key to our mental state of being.  If our closets are jam packed with stuff, there's no room to hold anything new.  Same with thoughts.  If we keep our minds focused on thoughts that clutter, we will never have room for any new ideas, new thoughts that will bring us closer to creating or maintaining the life we chose for ourselves.

First Step:  Identify your cluttered thinking. 

Ask yourself, what thoughts do I keep having over and over again?  For me it was a messy dinning room.  I never finished the clean up from Christmas.  I had decorations on the table, waiting to be put away.  I thought about this mess and cleaning it for weeks.  It brought me down.  It made me feel icky and I didn't know why.  I found myself staying out of the room.  If I could shut the door, I would. 

Yesterday, as crappy as I was feeling, I knew I needed to muster up the strength and get that room cleaned.  I did.  I knew it would make me feel better.

What happened is I couldn't stop cleaning.  It was as though my motor was primed and I was moving.  I was a woman on a mission, to get the dirt and errase the clutter.

I organized my mom's closet.  She has a tendency to put dirty cloths in with clean cloths.  She mixes socks and underwear, shirts and pants.  No wonder she thinks her hallucinations are stealing all of her things! 

I've noticed that the cluttered closet made my mom nasty.  So much so that yesterday, she turned into one of my sisters, the sister who isn't speaking to me.  Instead of reacting, oh how I could have... I decided to clean the clutter in her closet and her room.  I thought I'd give this Universal Law a whirl... clean the clutter and my mom will be more herself than my angry sister.

Her room, I gave it a huge cleaning, even the carpets were cleaned.  It brightened the room and made it feel lighter.  The energy was calm.  Peace was once again in my mom's room.  The angry wrinkles in her forehead softened.  She was more agreeable and pleasant. 

I don't know if her change in behavior was because the clutter was removed from her living space or if she just likes Susie the Night Nurse better than the Sue that cares for her during the day.

The negative effects of clutter go deep.  Clutter works in stealth mode.  We don't recognize it because it happens gradually.  We begin to feel ourselves feeling restless and wondering why we feel so crappy.  If you find yourself aggitated and not sure why, look around your work space... your living space.  Is it cluttered?  If it is, maybe get out some of those industrial strength trash bags and go to town on the clutter and erase the negative effects of clutter in your life.

You will feel liberated.  Once your environment is decluttered, your thinking will be less cluttered.  Thoughts will flow more easily.  You won't keep thinking of the same task over and over again, cluttering your thoughts.

Just do it and see.  You have everything to gain from erasing the negative effects of clutter in every aspect of your life. 

20 January 2010

The Black Lady: Jo's New Nurse

“Shhhhh...” My mom whisphered to me, with wild eyes as though she was really seeing someone.


"The black lady, she is over there, she sat in the chair over there and I think she's mad." My mom continued with conviction in what she was seeing. “Do you see her?”

I said, "Ma, hmmm, I don’t see her… what are you talking about? Why would she be mad? Is it the Haitian Nurse?"  Inquisitively I asked.

My mom said, "I think so."

I replied, "Ohhhhhh, then don't worry, she's upset about her family losing everything in Haiti because of the Earthquake in her homeland, you've been seeing a lot of it on TV. You'd be mad too, wouldn't you?  She's a lovely nurse. You are fortunate to have a Haitian nurse; they are some of the best care givers on the planet and have so much to teach us.  I try to be like a Haitian nurse, they are the best nurses, even better than me.  Relax, she's new and really likes you. Give her a chance, relax Ma, give her a chance ... ok?"

"Ok Susie. Her shift must be over, she's gone now. Good night. I love you." My mom said nonchalant.

"Good night Ma. I love you too. Tomorrow if you feel better we'll go to Trader Joe's to pick up a few things." I replied with the hope of giving her happy dreams to carry her through to sunrise.

Why Worrying Is Silly

We all worry at one time or another for different reasons, but primarily everything that we worry about leads to self preservation.  Even worrying about your kids is a form of self-preservation. The reason people have kids is because they want to reproduce their likeness into the world.

Creating children is a way for people to carry on.  Often I wonder if it's hard coded into our DNA, the need to pro-create and bring mini-xyz's into the world.  Is it a love affair with self that is the underlying reason that people have kids on purpose?

Kids are great.  I love being around them, they are funny little humans.  My point to this post isn't bashing people for having kids, it's my way of describing how worrying about your kids is a form of self preservation. 

Worry of any kind is silly. 

Worrying is silly, the latest lesson that I'm learning from knowing my mother my entire life.  Her greatest fear was "The Crazy Gene."  She worried constantly that she would get it or worse, one of her off spring would come down with it. 

Was my mom sealing her fate to having the Crazy Gene because she worried about it so much?

Worry brings a bad thought into reality.  Something causes us to be paranoid and have crazy thoughts, but the crazy thoughts that don't go away are soon fed with strong emotion and eventually manifest. 

Observing my mother my entire life, learning from her, both good and bad habits, I feel extremely fortunate to watch her live through her final scenes of life.  I see her fears as well as her deepest desires manifesting. 

Unfortunately, she worried so much about the crazy gene, it happened to her.  The only way her fear would manifest with any of her kids is if she got any of us to believe in her fear, that we were susceptible to the crazy gene.

My mom worried that she would pass on the crazy gene to her kids.  What a silly thing to worry about... everything is silly to expend worry energy toward.  Worry seems to make bad stuff appear so what's the point, how is this helping me to achieve my goal of happiness? 

Starting today, I'm done with worrying.

When we worry, we are creating a thought, a negative thought.  We fill it with strong emotion.  The more we worry about the event or thing that hasn't happened yet, the more power we are feeding the thought.  The more power the thought has, the strong emotions and beliefs, make the object of the worry, happen.

Worrying about a test is an everyday example that we can all understand.  I can remember worrying about a Calculus test, the entire time I was trying to study, I was worrying.  I failed the test, even though I sat with my books open for hours on end.  The problem was my mind and how I thought about the test.  If I had only focus on doing well, I am convinced that I would have been a much better student in calculus.

Throughout my own life I've worried about my parents dying in their sleep.  I have been checking on my mom, making sure that she's still breathing for as long as I can remember.  She hasn't died in her sleep yet but I believe that I've worried about this for almost 50 years so it's got to be her fate.  Only time will tell.

In the past, I've worried about doing a good job at work.  I would work hours upon hours to hone my skills, so that I would be the best in my field or work.  I often did well when I was confident in myself, where I believed in my personal power to achieve whatever it is that I set out to do.  But, it always took me awhile to get to this point of being the best.  Why?  Because I was so darn worried about what everyone else thought of me instead of what I thought of myself.

Even when I achieved my goal, was I really the best?  Of course.  If I believe something is true, it's true.  There's no changing anyone's mind once they believe something to be true.  Take the Massachusetts Special Election, perfect example where people believed the propaganda that is fed to us, 24 hours a day on TV.  A TV with special interests to get our money and take our power.  

This morning my husband and I were discussing the election disaster and why it happened.  We got on the subject of the TV and how it controls how people think.  If the TV tells us something, we will believe it.  It's called the power of suggestion. 

Minds are suggestible. 

We want patterns and things to be easy.  We have a way of making things logical by finding clues that line up with our beliefs, even if the clues are false, it doesn't matter.  We learn from watching each other.  We want group approval, it's how we are as humans, we are social creatures that need each other.

My husband summed up what is happening perfectly when he said, "George Orwell, in "1984" had it backward.  The TV isn't watching us, we are watching the TV taking all of it's commands and believing that it's the truth."

So, in defense of my fellow residents of Massachusetts, we didn't have a chance in hell to save the Democratic Senate Seat that was formerly held by Senator Kennedy, in my opinion, Senator Kennedy was the last real Democrat. 

The reason I claim that we didn't have a chance to know the truth is because I have observed the bullshit that is fed to people on TV.  We are constantly told what to do, how to think, how to dress, what religion is the best, what junk food is "healthy" and which political candidate we should favor.

The preparation for the next hoax on the American people has begun.  The news models have begun to tell us the outcome for the mid-term elections.  The so called smart people have started to give us "predictions."  Of course they are predictions for the future, they are seeding the thoughts in their subjects brains now.  When humans are told something enough, we will believe it. 

Fear helps folks control other folks. 

Nuns used to control my grade school classes with fear.  Parents control children with fear.  The government controls us with fear, hell what do you think that stupid terror alert color coding system was all about?  To keep us thinking about fearful things like terrorist attacks.  It is easier to control people who are fearful.

Are you going to sit and worry about what the fear mongers want us to worry about next or are you going to shut them off and find the facts so that real change can take place.  We all want the same things in life, why do we need to be so divided? 

Worrying is silly, it creates the exact situations we want to avoid

A good way to get started on changing your course from a road of worry to one of optimism, is to focus on the outcome.  What do you want for YOU.  If we all focus on ourselves individually, control only ourselves, the worry will go away and we'll live in a happy world that each of us has created for ourselves.

Worrying is silly because it just makes your life suck.

19 January 2010

The Little Girl and the Gumball

On Sunday, after our family adventure to Costco, I got home and realized that I had no food in the fridge.  The following day, (yesterday) we were expecting snow. I didn't want to go out shopping in a snow storm so I mustered up some strength and went to the local market for the bare essentials that I needed to get through to today.

Walking across the parking lot I thought about the gumball machine inside the doors.  I decided to get myself one of these gumballs, it was going to be my special poison for the hellish day that I had with my mom.  It wasn't my mom's fault, she got sick, it can happen to even sane people.  My mind was able to spin logic out of why I should buy myself a gumball.  I wanted it and I was going to have it.
With my 25 cents in hand, I notice a little girl sitting on the floor in front of the row of machines.  She was studying each big glass filled dispenser, pondering which to buy.  Finally, she made a selection.  Good taste I thought to myself, she's picking the same thing that I am choosing. 

Bloink! Bloink! Bloink!...

Her little fingers were too slow for the fast moving gumball.  It shot out of the machine like a bullet and onto the floor.  She was bummed but picked it up and began rubbing it on her cloths as she looked at the gumball and over toward her mom.  I could sense that she was reasoning in her mind the five second rule, if it wasn't on the ground more than 5 seconds the devil didn't get his nasty germs on it.

I was behind her and had 2 quarters in my pocket.  I told her to throw that dirty one away, she could get sick and buy a new one.  She quickly took my quarter and spun a new gumball out of the machine... a green one.  She ran away fast, putting both gumballs in her pocket. 

I laughed as I put my quarter in the same machine, ready with a trained hand to catch the tiny ball of sugar, an old standby treat for me. 

Only this time, the gumball lost it's charm.  It wasn't a treat.  It tasted the same as always but I didn't enjoy it as in the past, when my thoughts about health and food were different. 

Watching the little girls purple gumball roll away was symbolic of change.  There are things in life that we just love and work our entire lives to achieve or acquire.  Often when we get what we think we wanted, it's not as great as the chase to attain the desired object.  The other day I was reminded of this valuable life lesson because of the little girl and the gumball.