Life Interrupted

Navigating Grief and Change

Photo by Christopher Echols on Unsplash

This week I had planned to write a continuation of last week’s piece about PDA (Pathological Demand Avoidance/Persistent Drive for Autonomy) and how it has been derailing second grade for my daughter.

Alas, life had other ideas.

On Monday, my mother had a stroke. Thankfully, it was not life-ending, but it certainly was life-altering, at least for now.

In moments like this, I’m grateful for my AuDHD diagnosis, as it helps me to navigate how I’m responding to the situation. Or maybe it just gives me permission to unmask and experience my grief openly, without a filter. Being true to myself has also allowed me to simply acknowledge that I can’t focus right now on researching and writing the way my planned articles require. So I’m literally going off script.

When Mom Becomes a Friend

Some people have fraught relationships with their parents. While my relationship with my mom hasn’t always been perfect—what relationship is?—I’ve always known I was darn lucky to have her.

For the past six months or so we’ve gotten quite close. She had surgery last spring, and I called her every day while she was recovering. That built a habit that will probably last a lifetime. Every time I get in my vehicle alone, I want to call my mom and check in. She’s become one of my best “every day” friends, the kind you just call to chit chat with, even when you have no real agenda.

Of course, lately we’ve both had an agenda. She’s had one heck of a year, and I’ve been dealing with the drama of school refusal. We always have something to share. Having a friend like this is rare in an era of my life when most of my friends work during the day or don’t talk on the phone.

This week I’ve been driving alone more than usual as I travel twenty-five minutes across town to the hospital without my children to visit my mom. Every single time I hop in the car, my hand reaches for the phone. And then I remember—I can’t call my mom. Not yet.

The First Stage of Grief—Denial

I’m struggling through some of the stages of grief—or maybe all of them at the same time.

I spent most of the week in shock—so much so that I accidentally took our van to the hospital to visit my mom, leaving my husband and three children to squeeze into the sedan. Oops.

My perception of the world around me is just slightly out of focus. Somehow just not quite right. I’m aware enough to realize it, but not able to change it. Thankfully, I’ve done a lot of inner work and am able to just sit with it and feel all the feelings—as intangible and unclear as they may be.

I simply can’t believe our new reality. On Wednesday, my mother was going to watch my kids for me so I could see a doctor without dragging along my brood. On Friday, she was going to babysit so we could attend my husband’s company Christmas party. But—BAM—on a dime, everything shifted. Instead of her coming to me, I came to her.

Despite seeing her every day this week, whenever I’m not with her, my mind refuses to hold onto the truth of our new reality. While my mom is mentally sharp—she spent time in the ER managing her schedule for the week—she is currently paralyzed on the right-hand side.

Despite knowing her condition from the moment her husband called to tell me, my brain just keeps downplaying it. On the way to the hospital, my brain just decided things couldn’t really be that bad. But then I met my sister in the parking lot, and we shared the details we had about her situation, and I was confronted with it again.

My mom can’t walk.

Sitting with her in the ER, we talked through her schedule and things that would need to be canceled in the coming days. Lunch with a friend. A doctor’s appointment. The dentist. We tried to think of who all we should call—of course we missed a bunch of folks that first day.

My mom was distraught that while she had put up all her Christmas decorations, she hadn’t wrapped the presents yet. My initial thought was, “there is plenty of time.” Some of that is because I’m time-blind, and wasn’t it just Halloween last week? But also, I simply couldn’t believe that she wouldn’t be back on her feet in two weeks.

If that’s not denial, I don’t know what is.

Photo by Carl Hunley Jr on Unsplash

Hope and Uncertainty

In the early stages of the aftermath of a stroke, there is a fine line between denial and optimism. I’m still hopeful that she will make a full recovery. In my mind, she will regain all her independence, including the ability to drive.

She’s a fighter. I watched her widowed at forty with two young kids—she came through it strong and independent. While I have every faith that she is going to regain movement of her right side and regain the ability to walk, only time will tell about the driving.

In the meantime, I recommend you all hold your loved ones close. You just never know what is coming. Make sure you make the most of the moments you have. And when in doubt, call the people you love.