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counseling

You Can Do This!

February 23, 2016 By Melanie Hoopes Filed Under: Hypocrite's Almanac Tagged With: advice, Alzheimer’s, counseling, family

Dear Hypocrite,

I know you’re not a therapist—you’ve been saying that for years—but I’m struggling with some real issues and looking for help or insight everywhere I can think of. You might just be the one to tell me something useful or perhaps make me feel not so alone. Besides, you’re free.

My mom has Alzheimer’s. It was obvious after several events (her walking out in traffic and setting her kitchen on fire) that she was no longer able to live at home by herself. I hired a part-time aide for a while, but she needed even more care, so last June I moved her into my apartment. I got a friend of mine to watch her during the day until I came home from work. When my mom stopped sleeping at night, life became unlivable. She’s now in a memory unit at a nursing home in Forest Hills. It’s a pretty dismal place. The people are kind but she pretty much wanders the halls all day looking for her “parents.” I visit her on the weekend. I don’t know what else I can do.

To add to this, I have many unresolved feelings towards her. She wasn’t the greatest mom. She was a drinker and distant and blamed me and my brother for getting in the way of the life she was meant to live. Obviously, there’s no point in talking to her now about my issues. She’s not sure who I am most of the time. On a good day, she calls me by her sister’s name.

This is the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through. I know you’re going to tell me to see a therapist or find a support group. Is there anything else I can do?

Signed,

Not So Dutiful Daughter

 

Dear Daughter,

I am so sorry for your loss. I know she’s still there for you to touch, see, and talk to, but a big part of what made her your mom is not there anymore and that is very hard to experience every time you see her. Add to that your unresolved feelings and you have a very complicated concoction of sadness and anger.

Even if you feel alone, you are not. I venture to say that many of the people you pass on the street are going through some version of your experience. What puts you in a special category is that you are the primary caregiver, which brings with it some serious stress and the feeling that you can never do enough for your mom. But here’s your new mantra: I can only do what I can. In other words, don’t try to do what you think you should or what someone else did. Do what you can do. You can only visit her on the weekends. So do that. Get to know her nurses, take her on a walk outside, bring her flowers…then go home and take a shower, see a movie, or have dinner with a friend. You need to extract the guilt from that cocktail of sadness and anger that’s already lodged in your chest. I do have some thoughts on sadness, however.

Yesterday I went for a walk around the track of a nearby school. It had just rained and there were big, beautiful earthworms crossing the track to get back to the soil. The only problem was the majority of them were headed toward the artificial turf that was in the center of the track. I couldn’t simply walk over them knowing they were going to a place that had nothing for them, that couldn’t sustain them.

My father has had Parkinson’s for fifteen years and I have a fourteen-year-old dog that is blind and deaf and can’t hold his urine. Seeing these worms cross the road to a place that would do nothing to keep them alive was more sadness than I could bear. It took me five minutes but I whipped every one of those worms back to the side with the real soil. A woman in full Lululemon passed by and asked what I was doing. When I told her she gave me a sad little look, not a judgmental one, but a look that said, “You poor woman. You feel too much.” At this point in my life, I do. Saving worms seemed the only option at that moment. I’m sure to Lulu I’ll be forever known as ‘The Worm Girl,’ but as nicknames go, it’s not a bad one. I’ve had worse.

We like to think we are in control of our lives. We keep our houses clean to the best of our abilities; we fill our days with errands and appointments to keep surprises to a minimum; we complain when teachers, food, or service fall below our standards. But all the while, as Carlos Castaneda said, death stalks us. There is suffering for those doing the dying and for those who bear witness to it. The witnesses have the job of easing the suffering of those fading. It’s normal to feel like you can’t do enough. But we do what you can. For my dog, I can change his food, give him cuddles, and take him to his favorite park. For my dad, I can visit, comb his hair, give him a massage, and buy him a pillow for his wheelchair. For the worms, I can fling them onto the grass.

To ease our own suffering, we need to get sleep, eat healthy foods, and exercise while knowing that the pain of sadness is something that we have to go through. But my dear daughter, you shouldn’t go through it alone. Here’s what you were expecting: find a therapist and get a support group. You need help. Get out there and meet people who are going through the same thing.

Again, I am so sorry you’re going through this. I know how it feels. My dad is not getting better. He’ll die this year or if not, the year after. And it will be unbearably sad. Somehow I will get through it. But until then, I will do as much as I can for him and ask for support from friends, family, and my therapist who is worth every penny of her astronomical fee.

Before I go, I have a question. Where is your brother? It sounds like the majority of the weight of caring for your mother is falling on your shoulders. Can you enlist him in more help? Can you let him know you’re feeling overwhelmed? Can you send him this column?

Daughter, I’ll be thinking of you. See you next time.

Filed Under: Hypocrite's Almanac Tagged With: advice, Alzheimer’s, counseling, family

A Small Step

January 29, 2016 By Melanie Hoopes Filed Under: Hypocrite's Almanac Tagged With: counseling, life coach, Park Slope, self help, Therapy

Dear Hypocrite.
I love your column and I think you help more people than you imagine. Now it’s my turn to ask for advice. This letter is not of your usual landlord/parking/parenting troubles variety. It’s bleak and more desperate than anything I’ve read here before. Wish it wasn’t the case. I wish I were writing about how frustrated I am with my loud upstairs neighbor.
I’m in a bad place. A series of unfortunate events has left me with some serious problems. I lost my job in May and haven’t been able to find another one. I’m in debt. I’m estranged from my family. I think my girlfriend is about to break up with me. I’ve gained twenty pounds in the past three months. Oh, and I’m pretty sure I have bedbugs.
I’ve been sitting on the couch watching TV for months, fully aware that it’s not helping my situation. I woke up this morning and thought today, “I have to do one thing, just one, that will make my life better.” So, you are my one thing. I know there’s not a lot you can do from wherever you are. Maybe you can give me the “everything’s going to be alright” speech to comfort me for a little bit. I completely understand if you don’t want to answer this letter thinking it’s out of your jurisdiction. I know I need a therapist but can you try to help? Please? Whether you answer it or not, thanks for your column. It’s a bright spot in my life. Wish it were weekly. Maybe you could find another place to write it?
Signed,
Sad Sack

Dear Sad Sack.
I’m so sorry to hear you’re going through an epically hard time. Just one of those things you’re going through is a lot and you’ve got yourself quite a list. How sweet of you to compliment me while you’re so down in the dumps. I don’t get a lot of fan mail (I got one email a few years ago from a woman who confused me with her husband’s distant cousin who lives in Utah. Still, she said some nice things.), And to your comment of finding a place to have a more regular column—I’m very happy with the infrequency of this gig. It allows me to live a rich life on which to draw my advice. If that sounds like bullshit, it is. I don’t have time to write more than four times a year. I need to hustle in order to keep my kids in ridiculously overpriced athletic footwear.
Sad Sack, I must say my column doesn’t really support letters like yours. You’re right; you need a therapist, not a free of charge hypocritical life coach. To me, the excessive TV watching is a clear sign that you’re depressed and I don’t traffic in depression, that’s for the people with training. I can give you the “everything’s going to be alright” speech but if you don’t do something concrete, things will most definitely not get better. In your letter you use the word “wish” a lot. Although I believe in fairies and trolls, I don’t believe you can wish your problems away. You need to take action and that action is usually outside of your comfort zone. It’s hard to step outside what’s natural when you’re feeling shitty about yourself. But you have to. You must. It might be hard to believe, but things could actually get much, much worse.
The skills to turn things around are two: You need to ask for help and accept it when it comes to you. This is not as easy as it sounds.
My husband has a friend who is forever experiencing the hardest of times. He’s always in danger losing his job, he’s in debt, his landlord is in the mafia, his dog needs an operation. The numerous times we’ve tried to help him, we’ve been bitten. The apartment I suggested was above a burger joint (who could live with the smell of grease?) The car my husband’s aunt was selling was beige (He could never drive a beige car!). Something always stops him from receiving help and he keeps on complaining. I won’t go out with him anymore and my husband comes back from a night at the bar with him drained and frustrated. Look, shit happens to everyone but this is different. I’m not abandoning him in this time of need. I’m abandoning him because I think he gets off on how crappy his life is and I don’t have time for that.
Not you, though. You know how to ask for help and receive it (right?). Ask around for a therapist, pronto. Then find a headhunter or ask your friends for leads on work. Get recommendations for exterminators. So you need to find low cost options? That’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Ask about sliding scales, bartering and payment plans. Make a list of what you need and who can help you (in the corporate world they call this a strategic map). Take a nap and a bath. Exercise. Be upfront with your girlfriend. Tell her you’ve got to get yourself together before you can be a good partner. “Just you wait,” tell her, “you won’t even recognize me.”
Listen to me, Sad Sack. Do these things and you’ll be on your way to a better, happier you. We all need help from time to time. Tell us how we can help you and then let us. You’ve made a step asking me today, so ask someone else for help tomorrow. You need to get your life back (and banish the bedbugs) to experience life in The Slope to the fullest. The leaves are going to change color soon and you’ll want to be outside on a blanket staring up at them in wonder, not despair.
I know I’ve ignored the fact that you’re estranged from your family. I’m sure that is very painful for everyone involved. Your therapist will help you with that. Know that we can create our own families, Sad Sack. You can consider me your wise Auntie. Auntie Hypocrite. I like that the sound of that.

See you next time.

Filed Under: Hypocrite's Almanac Tagged With: counseling, life coach, Park Slope, self help, Therapy

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