Not quite the plan

on finding my groove as a 30 something single girl and caregiver for mom with dementia


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Patience, ah, patience.

Mom: “What time are we leaving?”

Me: “7pm”

Mom: “What time are we leaving?”

Me: “7pm”

And, five minutes later, “What time are we leaving?”

At some point, it gets a lot more challenging not to have that tone creep into your voice.  That tone that says, I have told you for the fourth time!  Some days, a certain tone is definitely in my voice.  A tone that says, are you kidding me?!  Stop!  I cannot do this.

Patience has never been my strongest trait.  I would describe myself as a rather impatient person, one who reads books quickly to get to the end.  So dementia has been a test, and one that I too often recognize that I am failing.  I strive for patience and yet so often it feels impossible.  And some days I hardly want to try.

On the good days though I reflect that I am building some patience muscles.  Perhaps it will pay off one day!

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