Tag Archives: finding self

I’m Seeing Purple. Gratitude Experiment: Day 32

I walked in the Walk to End Alzheimer’s this morning. What a terrific feeling of hope and camaraderie to walk away with. Last year the Denver walk broke its record with 8,000 walkers.  I guarantee you it was an even bigger crowd today.

I walked with a good friend who walked in memory of her mother who she lost to Alzheimer’s three years ago.  And I walked in memory of my Aunt, who we lost to Alzheimer’s a year ago this month and in honor of her sister, my Mom, who I’m losing to Alzheimer’s a little more each day.  I drew a picture of them on a huge sign they had for people to paint memories of their loved ones.

In a sea of purple, I saw photos on the back of so many walkers’ shirts. Photos of loved ones lost to this hateful disease. The thought that so many like me are fighting this fight is both comforting and terrifying.

This disease isn’t going away anytime soon, as the numbers continue to climb.  Yet it seems like the world is in denial about this disease and how very real it is.  Perhaps it doesn’t seem as real because you don’t visit anyone in the hospital when they have this disease?  And because you never hear anyone with it describing their suffering?  Because they can’t speak for themselves.

But it is very real.  And someone new is diagnosed every 68 seconds.  And by 2050 it will be someone new every 33 seconds.

Ironically, federal funding for Alzheimer’s research pales in comparison to that for other chronic diseases. According to University of Mississippi Medical Center, the $450 million allocated by the National Institutes of Health (NIH) is equivalent to less than 15% of the research funding for HIV/AIDS, less than 11% of funding for cardiovascular disease research, and less than 8% of funding for cancer research.  And for every $28,000 spent on Alzheimer’s patient care, only $100 is spent on research.  In fact, the government funds more nutrition research than it does Alzheimer’s research.

I recently had the privilege of listening to a scientist discuss research initiatives and progress made. Scientists believe we are getting close and even at a tipping point.  We just need a commitment from the federal government to fund research.

And we’re getting there. In January of  2011, the National Alzheimer’s Project Act (NAPA) was signed into law by President Obama. According to the Alzheimer’s Association, The National Alzheimer’s Project Act (NAPA) will create a coordinated national plan to overcome the Alzheimer’s crisis and will ensure the coordination and evaluation of all national efforts in Alzheimer’s research, clinical care, institutional, and home- and community-based programs and their outcomes.

But it’s going to take much more. The public has to make it known what our federal priorities with regard to the impending Alzheimer’s epidemic should be, especially given shrinking budgets at every turn.  More people need to speak up and take action, contact their Congress representative or become advocates through the Alzheimer’s Association.  To put faces on the need. The website of the Alzheimer’s Association has advocacy pages dedicated to helping you do just that. http://www.kintera.org/siteapps/advocacy/ActionItem.aspx?c=mmKXLbP8E&b=7516993&auid=8520366  I know this is  a blatant plug for my cause, but I know with every molecule in my body that you DO NOT want to watch this happen to anyone you love.

If you’re still reading this and you’re not exhausted, I commend you.  And I appreciate you taking the time.  I’m truly grateful that you are reading this, that I went on that walk today, and that we can end this.  Let’s do it.

Why Alzheimer’s Is a Drag. Gratitude Experiment: Day 31

Even though it goes against the grain of my 100-day Gratitude Experiment, I feel the need today to write about why my Mom having Alzheimer’s is a drag.

I’m convinced that some gratitude will come to me by the time I finish writing this.  And I’m hoping these thoughts will help my readers cherish every moment they have with their loved ones.  And take nothing for granted.

My Mom having Alzheimer’s is a big fat drag because:

1. I wish I would have spent more quality time with her before she got sick.

2. I wish I had asked her if her favorite color was still yellow when she could still tell me.

3. I wish I would have paid better attention to the signs in the beginning.

4. I desperately wish for rare moments of clarity to happen when I am near.

5. I worry about her dignity.

6. Most healthcare workers have no clue how to treat a person with Alzheimer’s.  And it makes me want to help change happen.

7. She is afraid to take a bath.

8. I wish I could remember the name of that flowery lotion my grandmother used to give her every Christmas.  And I wish I had someone to ask that would know.

9. I worry about my Stepdad being sad and tired.

10. I worry about my Stepdad getting hurt and me not knowing.

11. I wonder how much of what I say she understands.

12. I wonder if I offend her by babying her.

13. I  wish I had taken better notes about my family history.

14. I wish I really knew when all this started – so hard to tell.

15. I worry about when the next shoe is going to drop.

16. I think about how she would not want to be this way.

17. I worry that she is frightened and she can’t express it.

18.  I’m scared to death it’s going to happen to me.

On the other hand, I am still able to be grateful because:  (whew, glad some gratitude came through)

1. I love it when I have what seems like a tiny a breakthrough with her.

2. I am happy when she smiles her old smile.

3.I love to be silly and make her laugh (when I use Three Stooges type humor it cracks her up).

4. I can tell she enjoys changing the bed sheets with me.  Especially if I’m silly while we’re doing it.

5. She’s still my Mom in there.

6.  I love that she said  really sweet things to me that day a year ago when I did her hair for her, when she was better able to comprehend and talk.

7. My stepdad is solid as a rock, and I love him for it.

8. I’m lucky that she lives close now so I don’t worry even more.

9. I can have these tiny moments of joy with her to always remember.

Thanks for reading.

Reason to Think. Gratitude Experiment: Day 30

Today I learned very sad news about an old school friend who lost her son to suicide this morning. He was only 16. On the outside, this handsome young man seemed to be a kid that had absolutely everything going for him. My heart aches for their family and my stomach is weak at very the thought.

Though I do not know details about events leading up to this tragic event, it makes me want to stand on my little soap box for a bit about depression.

Depression is real. It exists. It is not made-up or imagined.  Clinical anxiety and depression are neurological disorders, and are due to an imbalance of chemicals, such as serotonin, in the brain.  It cannot be wished away.

Our society as a general rule does not take depression seriously and tends to paint it with the biased brush of weakness.  This is mainly because it is misunderstood. And when people don’t understand, they can often jump to conclusions, just like in politics or anything else. But depression can happen to anyone, big or tall, male or female, old or young, weak or strong.  It can happen for a short time or it can happen for a long time. There are many hereditary factors as well as external factors that can affect the odds of someone experiencing depression.

According to MedScape.com, as many as two thirds of people with depression do not realize that they have a treatable illness and do not seek treatment. And only 50% of those diagnosed with major depression receive any kind of treatment at all.  Until it is better understood by the public and even health providers, the stigma will continue to outweigh the benefits of diagnosis and treatment.

It is important to note that depression is very common in teenagers, as well as adults. Suicide, most often a result of depression, is the third leading cause of death among people aged 15 to 24 years old and the eighth leading reported cause of death in the United States.  Male teenagers are much more often successful at suicide attempts.  According to Wikipedia, American males between the ages of 20 and 24 have a suicide rate that is seven times higher than that of women.

For teenagers, changes in behavior, friend choices, academics and attitude must be more than noticed.  They must also be addressed head-on, with professional help if needed.

I must also note that therapy is very misunderstood by society.  Participating in psychotherapy is not a sign of weakness. Actually it is quite the opposite.  It requires a willingness to dig deep into self, and to understand complex patterns of thinking. It’s for those with the type of grit necessary to turn their own heavy handed mirror inward and accept themselves, flaws and all. And as a reward, students of therapy get to grow by leaps and bounds from the knowledge gained.

Today, while I am truly saddened for my friend and her family’s great loss and the sorrowful days ahead, I am thankful for the knowledge that depression is slowly becoming more understood by our society.

My Kimono Won’t Close. Gratitude Experiment: Day 28


My husband uses the term ‘open kimono’ to describe my transparent ways.  It’s because I’m not physically able to tell you one thing and really mean another, even if I tried really hard.  And why I would really suck as a salesperson selling anything that I didn’t believe in.

It explains why women who host home trunk show clothing parties, jewelry open houses, or cooking gear parties can’t stand it when I’m one of the guests.  Because everyone there knows that I’ll tell you if you look 30 pounds heavier in the latest trendy vest or if you look like you’re drowning in the latest fashion-forward floor-length dress.  Usually ten minutes in, guests realize that I’m someone who will give them an honest opinion despite its potential impact to a bottom line.

Urbandictionary.com defines the ‘open kimono’ phrase as: (adj.) – business marketing plan that allows consumers to know what’s behind the entire operation, with no secrets kept inside the proverbial kimono.

Some say the phrase dates back to feudal period of Japanese history, when warriors or adversaries would open their kimonos as an offering of trust to show they had no hidden weapons.

My open kimono explains why those who are friends with me know right where they stand with me at any given moment.  I don’t attempt to hide joy, worry, appreciation or aggravation. (I’m actually not sure if I would be physically able to.) I’ll tell you if you’ve hurt my feelings or upset me and I will be completely honest about it.  I’ll also make sure you know if you’ve touched my heart.

I cry at school plays, I cry at weddings, and I cry when I sing Amazing Grace because it reminds me of my grandmother who cried when she sang that song.  I still cry when I say goodbye to my parents after a trip back home. And sometimes I cry when I tell a happy story that makes my heart swell.  And I’m okay with all of it. Even though tears make stoic types uneasy, I know that letting my guard down allows me to tap into depths of emotion that left untapped could make me stale.

Sometimes I think about closing my kimono a little more often.  But then I remember what a fleeting gift this life of mine is.  So why waste time not getting to what’s real when it could all change tomorrow.

I realize this is who I am, open kimono and all.  And for that I am grateful.

When I grow up. Gratitude Experiment: Day 26

I want to be like my neighbor when I grow up. He lives across the street from me. He and his wife raised all of their children in that house.  Their kids now live in various states, with children of their own.  I think he is very close to 90 years old.

He yells ‘Hi neighbor!’ to me from across the street every time he sees me. He calls me by the wrong name sometimes but that just makes me smile all the more. I have never seen him unhappy.

I have to speak  loudly when we chat because he is very hard of hearing and has Meniere’s disease, an inner ear disorder that affects balance and hearing. Many afternoons you can see him jogging or riding his bike around our neighborhood. He tells me that he thinks if he just keeps active maybe he can jiggle things around enough up there in his head enough that it will work itself out.  He also just quit skiing black runs about four years ago. For real. (I’m doing good to ski blue runs.)

When we have big snows, he uses his snow blower to remove snow from our entire cul-de-sac’s sidewalks. And sometimes he does all of our driveways too (we live in a small cul-de-sac thank goodness).

He has a killer old red sports car that he drives every clear day.  I can hear its engine rumble as he zooms off each morning with his hat on that reminds me of the one Gilligan wore on Gilligan’s island.

On trash pickup days if I’m gone after the truck as come, he returns my trashcan to the back of my driveway for me.  And he does this for all of us. He also brings us all a jar of home-made jelly from his church sale during the holidays.

He has a compliment for me every single time I talk with him.  And he calls me when he needs to know how to do something on his computer, always ever so thankful for my help.

Today I am grateful that I get to live by this great guy who provides me with a wonderful example of how to live life. I hope I can be like him when I grow up.

Breakfast Club Flashback. Gratitude Experiment: Day 25

Today as I sat waiting in the high school parking lot to drop off my son’s tennis equipment before he left for a tennis match, I was transported to another world.  Actually back to my world back in high school.  And the world according to the Breakfast Club movie in 1985.

This movie has been hailed as one of the greatest high school films of all time, by John Hughes (God rest his fantastic movie making soul).  And the song – “Don’t You Forget About Me,” that instantly reminds my generation of scenes from the movie that have stayed with us since.

The movie follows  five students—Allison Reynold (Ally Sheedy),  Andrew Clark (Emilio Estevez), John Bender (Judd Nelson), Brian Johnson (my favorite Anthony Michael Hall),  and Claire Standish (Molly Ringwald) as they surprisingly find common ground with each other throughout a single day of detention on a Saturday.  Each student represented a different clique or stereotype within the school.  If you haven’t seen it, rent it.

Watching the disbursement of high schoolers on a Friday after school took me right there. I watched each stereotype pass the front of my car. During a phase when I am feeling a little old and thinking things are so very different, I suddenly realized things really didn’t seem that different. Had nothing really changed except for the fact that they each had a cell phone and ATM card in their pocket?

The ‘Jock’s (although in this case both male and female) were gathered on the sidewalk high-fiveing each other.  The ‘punk’ hard edge type kids were all walking alone with a jolted gate, looking very guarded. I even saw one bump into a jock, then the jock got upset and held his hands out just like in the movies (if only he had been wearing a letter jacket), then the punker extended his hand and they shook hands and did a “bro” hug.  I should have been filming as it was stereotypical perfection.

Then I also watched as the many ‘princesses’ dialed for their rides exhaustedly while flipping their hair in frustration and simultaneously watching peripherally to see who was checking them out.  Then came the ‘brainiacs’/nerds as I watched them attempt to talk to the cute girl jocks while the huge guy jocks with gelled hair stood to the side fanning their feathers.  They didn’t stand a chance but I was rooting for them.  And I sadly watched a ‘misfit’ walk out to her car alone.

Maybe they will all be in detention together one day and bond over their similarities, but I doubt it.  More likely, they will all find themselves in different cubicles of the same corporate world and bond over the lack of sunlight.  Sorry, that was dark.

Today I am just grateful that the world isn’t really racing ahead as fast as I thought.  And that makes me happy.

A Bittersweet Solstice Approaches. Gratitude Experiment: Day 23

Bittersweet defined is a combination of both bitter and sweet – a feeling that is both happy and sad at the same time. This familiar emotion finds its way back to me each year, just as the first signs of Autumn find their way back to us all.

It’s my favorite time of year and always has been, flooding me with memories of autumns past.  The smells of damp leaves and firewood, the crisp air that fills my lungs, the glorious colors that open my eyes to nature each year, and the sound of fallen leaves underfoot.  My very favorite season.

The approaching September equinox called out to me today, as it does each year when the summer’s curtain draws to a close.  Letting me know that fall is approaching and the time for winter is near. It’s sad to see the summer end, but also sweet to see the cycle complete.

There are two equinoxes every year – one in September and one in March.  When the length of day and night is almost exactly equal all over the world, with seasons opposite on either side of the equator.

Derived from Latin, the word equinox means “equal night.” I explained this to my kids as I drove each one to school this morning, and as I do each year when the sun on the horizon nearly blinds me as if to awaken me from a summer’s sleep.

The autumn equinox happens each year, the moment the sun crosses the equator, always on September 22nd, 23rd or 24th. On any other day throughout the year, our planet tilts away or toward the sun.  But not on each equinox, when the sun shines more directly upon us than any other days of the year, as if to remind us of our smallness in the universe.

Thirteen years ago on September 22nd, just before the autumnal equinox, my sister crossed over and left this world, just as the sun crosses over the equator.  The sun was blinding her way that day, or maybe calling her toward it. It was also my mother’s birthday.

I’m really not sure what God and the universe had in mind that day, but I’m determined not to let it zap the gratitude out of me as I gear up for this month’s memories, filled each year with emotions, both happy and sad.

When I see the sun each morning so boldly reminding us of its presence near the horizon, I know it is a bittersweet reminder for me to plant the seeds of both appreciation and caution for all that is. Today I am grateful for the sun and all that she reminds me to be thankful for.

Give me a dam break. (And it’s not what you’re thinking.) Gratitude experiment: Day 10

I had an interesting conversation with someone today about exploring new interests and skills and what compels one to do so. I find it strange that I have decided to get serious about real writing and also learn to paint this year when both of these things have been on my bucket list for years with little to no action on my part.  Why would I would pick a phase of my life when I have so many stressful events happening to get serious about two pretty big line items on my list?  The timing just seems odd.

Is it because I really am less content with the work I do for a living?  Lately it does seem kind of silly and mundane. And I have a really hard time getting as fired up about things as much as my clients do. Actually as much as I used to back when I donned the corporate cloak and meeting an ad deadline was worth ruining everyone’s weekend for.

Or is it because I’ve read enough self help and positive energy books to fill a library (and provide much amusement to my relatives with my new age philosophies and hypotheses).  I truly am a firm believer in the laws of attraction and the power of visualization.

Maybe it’s because I keep getting reminded of how short life can be.  Or worse…what if I’m falling in line with the cliche of the the middle aged woman who wants to “find” herself? Luckily I’m not dressing like a hippie just yet and I can’t stand the smell of patchouli.

It’s probably more likely that it’s some form of self-soothing to escape and to find a different kind of release.

I’m really not sure what the answer is. But it does makes me wonder what else is possible and what could happen if I decided to open the throttle a little more.  Maybe I’ve had it on halfway for a while – following the path of least resistance and what’s expected. I think we all fall into that trap more often than we’d like to admit – building dams of resistance that maybe just have to break at some point.  The result can transform the slow trickling stream of content into a swollen river of possibilities.

One thing is for certain.  It feels right.  And for that, I’m grateful.