I appreciate your essay on hope. I'm in early Alzheimer's too and I'm not a naturally hopeful person. I'm working on developing mindful, intentional hope. I like your idea of recognizing micro-hopes.
Yesterday I had a complete and total meltdown at the neurologic therapist. This isn't my first meltdown but it's the first one anyone has witnessed. It wasn't pretty. I heard the whispered conversation in the hall about whether I should be allowed to drive home. I was less than a mile away from home so it didn't really matter. I could have walked. The hushed conversations behind my back are becoming a hallmark of my Alzheimer's journey.
I live alone and that creates a slippery slope of relying on my own judgement. Everyday is a mental challenge. If I want to get something done, I have to figure it out myself. That kind of challenge is good for my brain. Being alone also unfortunately leaves me vulnerable to slipping into a pit of hopelessness and despair. Every day is a new day and I try start with a fresh attitude. I guess all those years in AA hearing "One Day at a Time" ad nauseum are paying off again.
Take care. You are so fortunate to have your wife to help guide you. I know you appreciate her. Don't slack off on expressing that.
It is difficult to have hope with Alzheimer's. Especially when you have other stress in your life. Financial, family, other illness, being alone, etc.
The micro-hopes really helps.
Today was a difficult day for me. My memory was awful. Yet, I forced myself to focus on small accomplishments.
I like your idea that every day is a new day and you start it with a fresh attitude. I am going to use that now. I am going to sleep and going to wake up with the attitude that the new day will be better than today.
I plan to include Linda in more of my posts.
Take care of yourself and remember that you are not alone.
I lost my father to unspecified dementia a few years back. He gave up his car many years ago after getting lost in a shopping center that had grown and changed over the years. Later, he struggled to finish a book about his life’s work with my mother helping as editor. Smaller hopes and goals would have served him well. Keep writing.
I appreciate your essay on hope. I'm in early Alzheimer's too and I'm not a naturally hopeful person. I'm working on developing mindful, intentional hope. I like your idea of recognizing micro-hopes.
Yesterday I had a complete and total meltdown at the neurologic therapist. This isn't my first meltdown but it's the first one anyone has witnessed. It wasn't pretty. I heard the whispered conversation in the hall about whether I should be allowed to drive home. I was less than a mile away from home so it didn't really matter. I could have walked. The hushed conversations behind my back are becoming a hallmark of my Alzheimer's journey.
I live alone and that creates a slippery slope of relying on my own judgement. Everyday is a mental challenge. If I want to get something done, I have to figure it out myself. That kind of challenge is good for my brain. Being alone also unfortunately leaves me vulnerable to slipping into a pit of hopelessness and despair. Every day is a new day and I try start with a fresh attitude. I guess all those years in AA hearing "One Day at a Time" ad nauseum are paying off again.
Take care. You are so fortunate to have your wife to help guide you. I know you appreciate her. Don't slack off on expressing that.
Linda
Hi, Linda.
Thank you for responding.
It is difficult to have hope with Alzheimer's. Especially when you have other stress in your life. Financial, family, other illness, being alone, etc.
The micro-hopes really helps.
Today was a difficult day for me. My memory was awful. Yet, I forced myself to focus on small accomplishments.
I like your idea that every day is a new day and you start it with a fresh attitude. I am going to use that now. I am going to sleep and going to wake up with the attitude that the new day will be better than today.
I plan to include Linda in more of my posts.
Take care of yourself and remember that you are not alone.
Greg
Well written and moving, thank you.
I lost my father to unspecified dementia a few years back. He gave up his car many years ago after getting lost in a shopping center that had grown and changed over the years. Later, he struggled to finish a book about his life’s work with my mother helping as editor. Smaller hopes and goals would have served him well. Keep writing.
I am sorry to hear about your father. Dementia is a cruel disease.
You have stood beside me for a long time, and I greatly appreciate it.
Thanks!
That’s a fighter’s attitude! Never give up! 💪🏽
Thank you! Encouragement like yours is important as I travel on this dreadful journey.