mental health | Belinda Botzong

How’s Your Spirit?

if I ask someone, “How’s your spirit?” and they answer with anything besides what I always said, “My spirit is great!”, would I know what to say or do? What would the person do who asked me that question?

How Is Your Spirit?

During a recent very unexpected illness which led to an extended stay in the local hospital I was asked repeatedly, “How is your pain?”, “How is your appetite?”, “Have you had a fever?”, and many questions that shall remain undisclosed.

After my release I had several follow up appointments and home care. At a couple of visits the same questions were repeated, but time a twist. “How is your spirit?”

That caught me off guard. No one ever inquires of my spirit. I never inquire of anyone’s spirit. When I say, “How’s it going?” or “How you doin’?”, do I expect any answer besides, “Fine”?

I work in health care. Often when I check in with my patient and ask, “How are you doing?”, I mean, “are you comfortable, is there anything I can do to help get you settled?” Once in awhile I hear a response of, “I’m doing great, how are you doing?” And again, it catches me off guard because at that moment I am the caregiver, not expecting anyone to be the least interested in my condition.

Our mind, our body, and our spirit are all connected. If one is out of balance the rest is as well. When someone is suffering from pain, loss, or stress, it affects how they think, how they feel physically, and how they are coping spiritually.

On the other hand, when there is a joyful occasion or anticipated happiness, something to look forward to, the aches and pains are often reduced. The mind becomes content or excited. The spirit is positive and encouraged.

Things like unexpected illness or tragedy profoundly affect our spirit. That internal place of peace, joy, kindness, love, and hope can be deeply troubled. My spirits were lifted with each text and inquiry from family and friends on how I was doing and what was happening.

From my hospital room window, I could see my co-workers and patients coming and going as I had a clear view of the parking lot of where I work. There was one day where I was feeling like I would never return to “normal” life and it was discouraging but the care I received was absolutely treasured. Each encounter made a positive impact during my stay.

Now I wonder, if I ask someone, “How’s your spirit?” and they answer with anything besides what I always said, “My spirit is great!”, would I know what to say or do? What would the person do who asked me that question? Are they prepared to counsel me, to encourage me, or to get me the help I would need? If I were to ask that question, what would be my response to, “I am so depressed”? or “I feel lost”.

I pray that I am prepared to come along side anyone who is low in spirit and I pray that if I ask you, “How’s your spirit?” that through me the Lord would give you comfort if needed.

So, how is your spirit?

On The Market

Multiple Listing Service realtor agreement signed

Cleaning ladies did their best

Sisters worked like Hercules to clear the last of the “stuff” – remnants of a life

The listing posted and a bittersweet flood washed over me. As usual I have two roles in this whole business. On one hand I am called The Estate Manager- what used to be The Executor (feels like executioner) of The Estate. I have decisions to make. I have things to do. I have papers to sign and records to keep. I have rules to follow and jobs to finish. I am, as The Estate Manager, detached from my other role. The grieving daughter, the heir of the residue, the former caretaker/caregiver, of my first best friend.

There is no way to describe certain feeling and emotions except that it rolls like a tide- sometimes gently ebbing and flowing, a little misty maybe. Sometimes crashing like a tidal wave drowning my soul in tears.

This process is at times extremely frustrating. The waiting. The expectations. The bitterness. The disagreements. The pressure. The loss. The duties. The longing.

Yesterday was a day of frustration. I had to go to the bank for a couple things. There was the deposit from the estate sale. It wouldn’t go through without some glitch because it’s an estate account and it hadn’t been used yet. Then there was the mortgage payment. Fiasco. When I got frustrated and said “I just want to pay the damn mortgage”, the little fella told me not to use such language. Hahahahaha. Does he have any idea the language of this world? Not to excuse myself but in the past month I’ve had angry patients call me everything but a white woman (as my mother would say) as they, in their own distress, used profanity to cope with their own issues.

After much back and forth with the account I finally got the mortgage paid and left with a handshake with my new friend Ruan.

And then the realtor announced the listing on Redfin. And it washed over me. And I pray that a sweet family, a brilliant entrepreneur, or a group of people who just need a place to live, see that and decide it’s the perfect place for them. They can’t see the Chilean fire tree in bloom that will knock their socks off in spring. They don’t see the labor that went into the recent updates or the prior updates. They don’t see the pride she had at being a homeowner as a widow with five children. But I hope they see their future as being blessed by their own proud purchase and that they will fill it with their own collections and memories and tastes in decor.

I sent the Casa Brothers a message. They are the Realtor/Estate Sale team who have done such a great job through this ordeal. I have an idea for a new reality show with them as the stars — :

Hi guys

I just thought up a new reality show and you guys could be the stars— like property brothers except with the estate sale twist.. Casa Brothers – and the drama part would be the family melt downs and such that happens as people grieve and move thru the process of parents dying.

The vision is to my end — “save the adult children” from all the STUFF accumulated by the person who passed.

I think this is an idea that would resonate with this generation as all the baby boomers start passing and leaving the minimalist generation upcoming with all this stuff to dispose of.

I’m calling Hollywood .. get your makeup team together and get ready to be a star!!!!

Have a beautiful day

©Belindabotzong2018

Lists

Where do you begin?

Where does it all end?

What does it all mean?

We stood there the day after

Looking at each other

Them looking at me to lead them

Asking what to do

Where to start

How do I know the answer?

What thought process do I go through to figure it all out

Minds covered in haze

Hearts filled with grief

Thoughts and decisions covered in sorrow

Heart aching with loss

We all dug in with both hands

Sorting and sorting and boxing and dumping and keeping and tossing and loading and donating and discussing.

Rule number one — tell me what item is important to you and put your name on it

Rule number two — make a box to fill

Questions arise

Pictures? — we will pile all the boxes of pictures to distribute later. We will have a ceremony after the burial where we go through them together. This morphs as hours go by

Documents? Shred? Burn? There are so many. Then so many more. Medical papers. Receipts. Piles and piles.

Another plan is made. We will have a bonfire. Burn all the documents and as we sit around the fire we will sort the photos. Each person will have a beautiful box to fill with theirs. This will allow us to reminisce and remember.

Greeting cards? There are hundreds. Letters. Notes. Notebooks. At least a hundred little spiral notebooks and notepads. Address labels? We are talking a thousand. Piles and piles. And piles.

The notepads are full of lists – bills, groceries, peoples names and addresses and phone numbers. Repetitive. Historical. Facts. Figures. Ideas.

Paper clips? Tools? Batteries. So many batteries. Tassels? That one got us laughing. What the heck?

Phone calls need to be made. There’s nothing like calling government agencies and their 1-800 numbers. Exasperating. Get through. Get on hold. Get disconnected. Redial. Re-enter. Remain sane. Reach one of the kindest people in the world who efficiently cancels the 38 year long pension in about 38 seconds. The VA is highly efficient and friendly as they end that monthly stipend with a “God bless you”. Another thing checked off the list. Meds by mail. Check. Cable. Check. Lawyer. Check. Bank. Check. Phone. Check. Check. Check. The list grows shorter then grows longer. So much to do. So much to think about.

Estate sale. Realtor. Lawyers. Meetings and appointments.

As the list changes everyone else is using the physical energy to load. And box and bag and load some more. Calls are made to donate medical equipment. Four walkers. A wheelchair. Crutches. Shower chair. Toilet raiser- bought just hours before she died. Piles of glucose monitors, blood pressure cuffs and all manner of joint stabilizers and ortho equipment.

Beds and chairs and dishes. Pots and pans and bowls and kitchen gadgets galore. Furniture and furnishings. Toothpaste and shampoo and bars of soap.

Donations to the humane society thrift store. Boxes of clothes. Loads to the dump. A garage filled with estate sale items. Boxes filled with canned and dried food donated to the food bank. Mementos kept and discovered and shared.

Bursts of tears. Bursts of laughter. People stopping by. Nieces. Cousins. Neighbors.

The mind can not comprehend the amount of physical labor, the depth of emotional storm, the ache that’s being covered by action. The knowledge that when the action stops the ache will increase and overwhelm.

Most of my Saturdays were spent with her, sometimes hours on end. Sometimes just a short visit. My calendar is filled with upcoming doctors appointments that will now be cancelled. Our trip to Israel stays on the books but she won’t hear from us about our great adventure. She was going to follow our itinerary daily to understand where we were that day. Nazareth. Galilee. Floating in the Dead Sea. Crying at the tomb of Jesus.

We all have to go through the loss of parents at some point. It’s enormous. As our often dysfunctional family goes through all these worldly goods that sustained her life and lifestyle I pray God’s grace as we patiently and tenderly grieve together, forgive one another, and move forward together.

Proverbs 31

“She gets up while it is still night; she provides food for her family and portions for her female servants. She considers a field and buys it; out of her earnings she plants a vineyard. She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks.

She opens her arms to the poor and extends her hands to the needy.

She makes coverings for her bed; she is clothed in fine linen and purple.

She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come. She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue.

Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: “Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.” Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. Honor her for all that her hands have done, and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.”

‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭31:15-17, 20, 22, 25-26, 28-31‬ ‭NIV‬‬

©belindabotzong2018

Get Over It

She was always waiting for the Lord to return to get us all out of this messy world.

As sick as she was this past week she never said she was planning to beat him to the punch and leave before he got back to take all of us.

Knowing that we are just temporary citizens on earth changes the perspective on loss and death. The sadness and grief and tears are not that she has passed on into eternity but the thought of being separated from her in this life.

To not have that one person who knew you from the moment you were born is the pain.

To not have her demands and expectations is numbing.

She would constantly tell me how she loved my hair, that I was boring because I didn’t live with bling and watch tv, that I was amazing because I’m so sweet (though I’m not).

She found joy in her flowers, shopping for her motifs, buying people things they never wanted or needed, donating to causes she couldn’t afford. She had a servants heart and she hated with a passion being the one who needed to be helped in any way.

She prided herself on being a homeowner, having her hair styled, and refusing to use her walker or the other medical devices.

She was a widow for 38 years– exactly half her life — and she devoted herself to working and raising grandchildren.

Grief is painful and difficult and raw. She hated that people might cry over her leaving. Don’t you dare cry over me, she would say. Don’t worry about it. You can fire yourself from taking care of me. You are not obligated in anyway. She said that! As if it were possible.

A month ago I told her that she was the best mom because she had devoted her life to us but it’s hard to provide that same devotion back because we all have jobs and families and obligations and selfishness. She had just broken her arm and we were leaving on vacation so she was in the care of the home health people. She was very upset by that but ended up really liking the ladies who took care of her. I called her each day from vacation and that was unusual because I hate talking on the phone. She hated that I hate talking (on or off the phone).

She asked me recently why I used to have more time to run around with her. She forgot I work full time and have a family it seems. I told her I’ve been working full time since 1999 and maybe she’s thinking of when the kids were little and I only worked part time. She did not believe me-/

Tears are therapeutic – a cleansing –but very annoying as your eyes swell and snot runs and your head pounds.

I am not crying for her. She is rejoicing in heaven. I cry for myself and the thought of no more scenics with her. We looked at barns and farms and mountains and that perfectly round tree she exclaimed at down by the river. Our times together centered more recently on scheduling doctor appointments and going through the motions of chronic illnesses. The scenics and lunches became part of our ritual.

She took on anything I became interested in. She thought it was funny that I recently became so creative. She started seeing flowers for my petals as paint project. She bought equipment for candle making. She watched for historical info in the paper for my novel. She was always interested in whatever we were doing.

I grieve because she loved hearing stories about my work and she loved my coworkers wherever my career has taken me. When we lived in Arizona she wouldn’t come visit but she turned her whole living room decor into a desert theme/ cactus lamps and all!

When I was a child I can’t remember sitting on her lap or hugs and kisses. I don’t remember “I love you” being tossed about. Maybe she was too busy with five kids. But the last few years she always wanted hugs (I know, right?? All those hugs she despised from everyone else I think she secretly loved) and kisses goodbye. Recently as we went through a deep mental health crisis with my son she begged to have me sit in her lap so she could hold me and rock me in her chair. That wasn’t possible but I appreciated the idea. And she constantly said I love you.

I am not sad that she is in heaven. I am sad that it’s all over, relieved she suffers no more, and thankful for such a devoted mom. So my tears flow and my heart breaks and she would say “get over it. I’m fine.”

I Saw Myself

I saw myself today

30 years ago a newlywed

In that cabin across the river

Where I sat for hours watching the currents sweep over the boulders

Time spent with my lover in solitude and adventure with dreams of the future and contented pleasure.

I saw myself today

20 years ago a mom of two hilarious children

Camped out on the floor in that cabin across the river

A family on vacation, swimming hole, and fishing poles

A walk to the gingerbread factory, the hat shop and the toy store ending with a German pretzel and dinner at the Baren Haus.

I saw myself today

In the present

Reflected in a store window

Shopping and thinking and exploring

Years of child-raising replaced by caring for my elderly mom

Picking wildflowers and pine cones and creating new things in my head

A time of respite and renewal, observing the changes that have taken place and those things that never change.

I saw myself today

20 years from now

Walking hand in hand with the same man I always loved

Coming to a light pole in the sidewalk with hands temporarily parting

Quickly rejoined to explore that same town we always have, getting bratwurst, walking to Blackbird Island, and talking about the years gone by

I saw myself today

30 years in the future

My white hair askew as a caregiver pushes me, donned in a royal purple bathrobe in a wheelchair down the Main Street

Past the horse and buggy, past the shops and restaurants

A pile of flowers and ornamental grasses on my lap gleaned from the passing displays and gardens

A smile on my face in memory of days gone by.

Sanity Returns

Muddled vision blurred by irrational thoughts and ideas replaced with sparkling Clarity

The gears slow to an even rhythm

The whirring and whizzing of rapidly changing thoughts reach a steady state

Rapid fire words and reactions and emotions ride an even keel of tempered conversations and deep thought

Images and frequencies normalize into reality

Like dials in a sound booth the knobs of medication and sleep and therapy fine tune and gradually remove the static and noise

The artifacts of stimulation and simulation and wild random churning waves are refined into coherent and rational thoughts and ideas

Turning the corner. Changing the tidal wave of anger and betrayal into deep loving gracious waves of thankfulness

We all breathe deeply again

Tension releases

Eggshells are swept away

Gracious forgiveness

Sanity Returns

Praise God

Waiting For Sanity

Beep

Click

Voices — strained to cheery

Rolling wheels — gurney, wheelchair

Doors open then close then open again

Medicinal soap

A peanut on the floor under the brochure table

Brochures about heart attack, stroke, visitor guidelines, a brief guide to involuntary hospitalization, AA

Footsteps

People coming and going, some hurried and frazzled. Others dragging and hurting

Meeting lawyers and doctors and liasons.

Sheriff deputies with cuffs and chains moving one patient back to inmate status.

Kindness and worry

Dread and prayer

Waves of angst and love and tears

Released girl dumps grandma who just drove 20 miles to pick her up— “I can walk” hahaha … the madness continues.

Walking outside to accompany those held against their will, a tall beautiful kind lady goes in and out the clicks and beeps to free another man or group for a few minutes of fresh air before they return to the dry indoor recirculated hospital air that carries voices and emotions and smells and germs,

Death and life roam the hallways deciding who stays and who goes.

A mom sits on the hard chair waiting to be called to the hearing designed to decide the near future of her most beloved baby, a man gone mad. Listening and waiting, pausing and anticipating.

Tissues wait to be filled with tears and a scrap of paper filled with snippets of phrases describing insanity and loss and pain and events that have led to this moment he will see as betrayal while she sees hope and help and healing.

Clarity. Future. Sanity.