What is Your Lifesaver?

Today is the first day in weeks that I don’t have anything on my calendar. It’s been good, it’s been busy and full of ups and downs. 

On top of dog/house sitting, I took on a dog walking gig for a couple of weeks (and it was icy as hell every day on that dog walk), several days of babysitting my three-year-old friend, cleaning my friend’s Airbnbs while she travels in Italy, and my regular Wednesday elder care job. Amid it all, friends gathered to celebrate a birthday, and I stressed over making a regular and vegan pumpkin pie. Oh yeah, and flu-like symptoms for a couple of days. 

Also, I printed out a draft of my manuscript, which I continue to edit and revise. I’ve sent queries to agents while researching small presses. I’ve pitched essay ideas to publications. I’m taking part in Brooke Warner and Grant Faulkner’s JanYourStory, committing to writing 500 words per day. 

In the middle of it, Angelica called, asking me to come say goodbye to her mama, whose death was imminent. Her mama, Paula Jean, and I became friends through a group of Southerners in Missoula who meet up to speak with a drawl and eat Southern food. She, myself and two other women call ourselves the Hellgate Junior League (Hellgate Canyon sits on the east side of Missoula). A year ago, Paula moved into the historic hotel where I live. As her breast cancer advanced, she moved to her daughter’s home. 

While Paula slept, we watched over. Angelica spoke softly, “She is my best friend. It was just the two of us for so long.” I held back the tears, hugged her and offered to wash dishes. Over the past nine months, I have been honored to witness three different women dying while their daughters cared for them. This time, it hit me. It is likely my daughter will not be there as I lie dying. I’m not feeling sorry for myself, only acknowledging and grieving a reality. 

After nine years of no contact with my only child, I’ve learned a few things: acceptance helps, while acknowledging feelings, being with them, but not wallowing in them. Therapy has been a lifesaver, and so has writing. Writing has given insight into the big picture, what part is mine to own up to, what part others have played, and how family dynamics contributed to our rift, and finally, forgiving myself.

What in your life has been a lifesaver, something that sustains you when life is challenging?

Be gentle with yourself and thanks for reading.