EVER FEEL LIKE your brain is stuck in neutral? Or maybe just paralyzed. It’s functioning, aware but it can’t seem to direct any action.
Once upon a time I wrote constantly. It was my outlet. Now it feels like 10 tons of concrete have been laid over whatever creative spark ever existed and it’s pretty much snuffed out. Most days I feel like it would take an army of guys with more muscle than me, each armed with a mega-jackhammer, to get it out.
I’ve discussed this with a couple of people and they have pointed out that it’s probably tied to my wife, Connie, dying slowing of dementia in a memory care unit, living alone, my own body aching and telling me about all the things I can’t do any more, the national malaise that has fallen over anyone who grew up in a once-free country and now sees it declining.
To paraphrase the author, old age is no country for old men.
It’s also been hinted that this is all a bit of self-pity, and I freely confess to that.
THE THING IS, I am not in bad shape. Yep, joints are failing, old sports injuries coming back to haunt, but I still am able to do most things I want to do if I’d just get off my sorry ass and do them.
Yep, things like travel are restricted because my obligations to Connie, which I shoulder gladly and with love, keep me in town. I know that she is leaving me, day by day, and when she is gone I can focus on my bucket list to the extent I am able. As for living alone, well, I’ve got a nice, affordable apartment with great amenities, near my son and family and with friends.
Self-pity and depression, bosom buddies, do a wonderful job of taking over your mind and filling it with falsehoods and doubt.
I woke up this morning promising myself that I was going to jack-hammer my own way out of this mental, emotional concrete malaise and write, do creative things, every day. Then I rescinded that promise because I’ve made it before and broken it before.
Instead, I decided to just take it day by day, do what I can, look for light in the dark and see where it leads me.
Nobody likes a self-pitying old fart, including me.
So……
Rich Heiland is a retired journalist and semi-retired consultant, trainer and public speaker. During his journalism career he was a reporter, editor, publisher, college instructor, part of a Pulitzer Prize-winning team and a National Newspaper Association Columnist of the Year honoree. He also writes the intodementia.com blog about his family’s experience with dementia. He lives in West Chester, PA and can be reached at [email protected].