My sister introduced me to reframing years ago, and it’s something I’ve been using successfully every since. It ties in well with other inside-voice chants of mine: It’s all about choices! Look for the silver lining! Onwards, with love. We regularly text each other with a fact and our re-framed take of that fact - from the super simple (I invited a friend for tea on the deck but it’s pouring rain . . . but how great for the garden, and OK, now I’m going to have to hoover the worst of the cat hair & clean the washrooms) to the more serious (Doug’s absolute lack of recognition when I visit breaks my heart . . . but I love that he’s no longer angry or sad when I leave, and I’m glad to think he’s not lonely without me when I’m not there). It’s becoming, slowly, a (good) habit - but it’s still not automatic, and it’s certainly not always easy.
Shovelling snow in North Bay, November, 2017 (We cleared the driveway even though we didn't own a car . . . but how lucky were we to be able to move the snow, to get the fresh air & exercise, to reap all the benefits of living in a country with such glorious winter weather?!)
And then, every so often, I discover another way of looking at things which seems to make the process of reframing a titch less difficult. I was recently introduced to a wonderful blog, and the line in this post really spoke to me. “Having never been a 10 year old boy, sometimes I forget that he hasn’t been either, and all of the things he’s going through are absolutely new to him, too.”
Taking photographs in London, England, 2017
Ah! Lightbulb! Doug has never before been a person living with late stage Dementia, and I have never before been a caregiver for a husband living with late stage Dementia. All the things he’s currently going through are new to him, and new to me. We both have to adjust, but we’ll get through this. (It’s only a learning curve, not dissimilar to the learning curve I’m experiencing with my new job.)
I have also recently re-read a workbook, Forget Me Not, which Doug started (but never finished) in November 2017. At the time it was so sad to watch him struggle to write (hindsight, hindsight - he could still write then!) but I’m glad he captured and saved these few words. “What comforts you when you’re upset? My wife - always.”
“What comforts you when you’re upset? My wife - always.” I hope this is still true.
Oh, Louise, this made me cry (but in a good way). You are so lucky to have each other. I am so glad you have these words so you can remember they're true. xo
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