So Much Work
On writing, grief, and the meaning we make of what we’ve lived
“You write so well Vicki, but it must be so much work” - and - “I guess it must be therapeutic for you”
I was gathered with a few friends when we all had some free time. We’ve known each other for many years. They knew of Lee’s journey, but not the precise toll the whole experience exacted on me. Who could, when no one is inside my head?
It was an innocent comment and compliment, but I heard something else: is this how you’re working through your grief? You write 3 long posts each week, isn’t that too much for you? Are you up to it? How long will you do this?
Why aren’t you moving on?
Merging the Research with the Lived Experience
There are many theories, and I’ve noted them in my long posts - identity, adaptive, role exit - that describe the unique grief process for former caregivers of spouses with dementia. We lived with loss for so long before the actual passing, the process to shed that role - that identity - takes time. And each individual works through their grief in their own way.
But the memories from the lived experience don’t go away, even as the grief diminishes and passes. They are vivid and acute, and universally experienced by those who care for and watch their spouse’s decline and death.
I want be part of a community that lifts up and supports those who are silently screaming “see me!”, “I’m here!” as they are living or leaving the caregiver life. You realize something new must take place. By writing about it, by speaking the unspoken truths, I hope to help others in this season. To document what it looks like to move out of grief and into a new life.
The “7 Muses” model, as interpreted through creative, integrative grief recovery, utilizes seven pillars to help you transform pain into a new, meaningful life. Each Muse offers an approach to express and move through grief. I am focusing on Muses 6 and 7 in my life now - the path forward into a new life.
The Muse of Expression (Art & Creativity) Use creative outlets to release complex emotions that words cannot capture. Art, pottery, writing, gardening…
The Muse of Connection (Community & Support) Alzheimer’s can be isolating. Rebuilding involves reaching out to break the walls of silence. It’s easy to put up walls, it feels safe. Break down the barriers to receive the help and support you need.
The Muse of Memory (Reminiscence & Legacy) Focus on honoring the person they were, while acknowledging the reality of who they are now (or were at the end). Step forward with clarity.
The Muse of Movement (Physical & Emotional Release) Grief is physical, affecting sleep, appetite, and energy levels. Listen to your body, your own health. You are important and have needs.
The Muse of Mindfulness (Living in the Moment) Alzheimer’s forces a focus on the present moment, which can be adapted into a, “live in the moment” skill for your own healing. One foot in front of the other.
The Muse of Meaning (Reconstructing Identity) Rebuilding your life means defining who you are now that your caregiving role has changed or ended.
The Muse of Acceptance (Resilience & New Hope) Acceptance isn’t about being okay with the loss, but about acknowledging its reality and allowing yourself to move forward.
We Evolve
I started off writing with a different goal in mind. Quickly, this became a project, then a calling, to provide a perspective on the role of spousal caregiver, to let others know they are not alone and their feelings are worthy. They are seen, they are heard, they are supported.
And how, after caregiving, there is a life to be explored, taking all your experiences with you and moving forward with them, integrated into who you are becoming. There is hope.
In this life, things happen that are entirely out of your control; how you interpret and react to these events determines your happiness. Be grateful and rejoice in the good that you do have in your life. After years of feeling like you were in control of nothing, you are now in charge of the exact meaning you attach to life’s events and how you act on them.
Control Returns
Caregiving changes you. Grief changes you. I am grateful for the life and love I had with Lee, and for the life I can live today (which I will not waste). I feel that I am more aware, perceptive and patient. I am also a little wiser and empathetic. I am much stronger - we are, after all, Tender Warriors. I am more open to different experiences, and I am using all the problem solving skills I honed during caregiving as I meet life’s challenges head on.
So no—this isn’t just therapy. It’s a way of making sense of what was lived. This is honoring it and shaping what comes next.
I was a caregiver for my husband with Alzheimer’s. I write about Belonging to Self, Community and Home, both during and after caregiving.
If this would be of value to you to hear more about how I restored my sense of self after 4 years of caregiving, Subscribe to Vicki’s Substack, “The Tender Warrior.”
Much of what I write about is finding your joy, even when dealing with the grief that comes with the caregiving experience, so as my gift to you, receive the free download What Joy Looks Like when you subscribe.
