Marilyn Dieckmann's Blog: Keep moving forward..., page 4
February 10, 2013
Suck it up… NOT good advice.
I’m so tired of the phrase “suck it up” I want to puke.
To say that to someone who has been crushed, kicked in the ass repeatedly by external forces BEYOND their control, delivered blow after blow until they are bleeding from gaping holes in their spirit, and whose self esteem is totally destroyed… well, it is a deadly phrase. For a parent to say “suck it up” to their child in this condition is, in my opinion a truly heinous crime, tantamount to murder.
When this same parent has been informed and is in the know and says “suck it up” anyway– and won’t help– that is selfish beyond belief, and I’m so glad I divorced him! What a creep!
There is definitely a time and a place to say suck it up. When faced with a frosty mug of beer, or a thick chocolate milk shake, then it is totally appropriate. If someone is whining about the wrong kind of topping on their pizza then yes, just suck it up buddy, and eat the damn thing.
When someone is so low they can’t get out of bed, when they truly wanted the world to end on 12-21-2012, that is NOT the time to say it! That is when listening is vital and reaching out… offering a hand up is the appropriate action.
To say “stand on your own two feet” to a depressed person without all the facts; when those feet will buckle f
rom depression… well, that in my opinion is cold and callous, and I’d like to check the sadist for a pulse.
Yep… I’m pissed.
Rather than sock a depressed person in the stomach, offer them encouragement. Emphasize the positive and share good news. They have dreams and feelings too.
Above all BELIEVE IN THEM!
Hug them, and let them know you truly care. That is what they need.
NOT suck it up.
NOT save up & pull yourself out of this while I do nothing.
They may be an angel on earth waiting for someone to reach out.
From Marilyn with LOVE…
January 15, 2013
Angels we have heard…
This is a post I wrote to remember my mom & her final days. She is now an angel.
Today my sister-in-law Sandy joined the chorus of angels in heaven.
Angels we have heard on high, sweetly singing…
My post today is about angels and the peace and joy they bring. I’ve written about them before (What’s love got to do with it? Part Four) but I’d like to share the entire episode now.
I’m an orphan… and both my parents suffered painful deaths. My dad died slowly from cancer that ate away at his body, and my mom died from congestive heart failure. Watching parents die, also tears away pieces of life from those who are near.
I was at my mom’s side during her long illness. I’m the oldest, and whether or not that means that I’m the “one” designated for the caregiver position… doesn’t matter… I was there. She needed me.
My youngest son Kelyn stayed with mom for over a year prior to her final hospital and nursing home stay. He gave up his time to be with her so I wouldn’t worry… and also gave her a reason to get up in the morning!
Mom loved to complain… and he gave her tons of fuel. Oh nothing weird or mean, just goofy stuff like shoes not exactly where she thought they should be, sleeping too late, or eating pizza rolls instead of pot roast. She loved every minute of it and it gave her something to do. Kelyn, you will forever be blessed in heaven for loving your grandma so well. Be proud of that… forever and always.
Kelyn called me on Valentine’s Day in tears because mom was beyond his care and he didn’t know what to do. She was getting worse… I told him to take her to the hospital and I’d meet them there. That was the last day she was at home.
For three months mom was in a nursing home. (I don’t recommend Havenwood in Bemidji AT ALL) I bought her new clothes and a fluffy quilt for her bed, and flowers and plants to make the room cheery. Her tastes changed dramatically, something I’m told happens as the body prepares to die. I would bring her a different “taste” every day. Once in a while I’d find something that satisfied that unknown craving that persisted in those last days.
Her last days were “classic” because they followed the signs documented by countless others who experienced this trauma. I use the term trauma because when she was gone, I finally realized the impact it had on me. Not just the loss of my mother… but it was the end of a long battle.
I felt it in my heart before I left work on the evening of Wednesday June 18th that my life would soon change. Mom was in hospice care and I was going to stop by and check in on her. I had already asked for the rest of the week off… I knew the end was near and wanted to be with her.
The nurse called as I left the mill and I drove like a madwoman to reach her. Mom was agitated and restless and nothing they did seemed to quiet her. I took her hand, told her I loved her… and it soothed her instantly. She needed that loving touch, to know I was there. When she was finally resting peacefully they told me to go home, get a good nights sleep and come back in the morning.
The vigil began in the morning.
I spent the next four nights sleeping in the chair by her side. I listened to her broken breathing and gasps, and jumped each time she stopped breathing. Another sign of the last days… long gaps between breaths. She wasn’t conscious, but she knew I was there and would wiggle her toes when I spoke to her… for me it was enough.
Everyone who could make it stopped by during those last days and gave me time away from the death vigil. I couldn’t bear to be away long… simply because I wanted to be there. I’m a firm believer that no one should ever die alone… especially my mom.
The nights were long and strained, but Sunday night was different and I was exhausted. There was a new sense of peace in the air… mom’s breathing was regular and I was eventually lulled to sleep.
At four in the morning I felt a whisper of a kiss on my cheek and an ever-so-slight movement in the room. God knew I needed help and sent his angels to watch over us. I knew this in the depths of my heart and fear was replaced with absolute peace. When the time was right… they would take mom home.
I went back to sleep and slept peacefully until morning. Mom was still with me in the morning, and her face was soft without the agony of pain.
The nurses offered me breakfast and truly lousy coffee… but it tasted like ambrosia at the time. Mom continued to rest and I opened up my laptop to browse through a photo album I’d made of her life. One of the nurses stopped in to let me know they would be giving her a sponge bath soon and I showed her the photos of mom’s life.
While I was telling the nurse how beautiful my mom was… the angels took her to heaven. My mom died listening to her daughters words of love.
What followed next was quite dramatic… like a scene from a movie. I jumped up and touched her frantically seeking life and whimpering, “Mom… mom… MOM?” She was gone… released from her pain and taken on wings with the angels.
I believe.
Have a wonderful day!
From Marilyn with love…
October 14, 2012
When life gives you lemons…
First of all, I’d like to apologize for taking so long to write a new post. Way too many lemons!
So, here’s a question for you. When life give you lemons… then what?
Usually, the end of this familiar statement is… you make lemonade. But, what if you hate lemonade? What if the taste is so repugnant to you it makes you gag? What is the alternative?
I’m dreadfully behind in my blog entries and the fact is… I’m trying to do everything myself. Don tries very hard, but he doesn’t have the energy or ability to do many of the things he was able to do before the stroke. Some simple things baffle him, and perhaps the most frustrating issue is memory.
Not that I’m perfect, in fact my memory sucks! I make a list for the store and then forget the dang list! Good grief. For Don it’s different and not his fault. We will have the same discussions over and over and over again. I ask him if he remembers… and he doesn’t. My heart goes out to him, but it is a challenge for me not to overreact.
Another bag of lemons was handed to us by our contractor. Jerk!
We lost the garage – greenhouse and all the contents in the fire. When we signed the contract with him we specified the house first. FIX the HOUSE FIRST. My dining room window is still broken after 5 months. As a matter of fact, the garage is picture perfect… PERFECT. My greenhouse – sun-room is sub-standard and poorly done.
After 7 weeks of doing nothing except ask for money… he will be back tomorrow. He will NOT get the last check until the work is done. Let him make lemonade & quite frankly I hope he chokes on it.
Out last big bag of lemons came from the insurance company. They cancelled our homeowners policy, and we are struggling to find a carrier. So far the only one who will take us has more than doubled our premiums. We don’t have that kind of money. We can’t do it. We have a ton of medical bills too which means I will have to work and I can’t leave Don.
Now what?
There have been more lemons hurled our way too, but I’ve started throwing them back.
When life gives me lemons… I make a fairy tale! I will NOT drink lemonade!
We are using the picture perfect garage as a workshop, and our greenhouse will be finished & decorated by us at the contractors expense. Yippee!
We have created our own special fairy haven and Don and I are making fairy tree houses together! It’s beautiful.
Somewhere out there is work for me. Work that I can do at home, with Don, & the bills will be paid. Maybe finally finish and sell my book!
Above all… Don and I have our fairy tale. We are together.
So, there you have it. Make a fairy tale out of your lemons my friends, it’s a much sweeter solution.
Have a wonderful day!
From Marilyn with love…
