11/02/2023

 For years I’ve referred to this day as my traumaversary. It was the most accurate way I could think of to describe what November 2nd signifies in my life. I have been searching for a new, more fitting way to reference the anniversary of the night everything in my life was ripped away and the importance of it in my life today. 

There are those who don’t understand my marking this day publicly and some see it as re-opening the wound. All I can say is that it’s not for anyone else to understand, though it’s my prerogative to share. It’s taking ownership of how I sit with the memory of that trauma. I’ve never been one to shy away from things that appear difficult and I wasn’t about to start with this. 

There is no getting over or past something as traumatic as rape. For me, kindness and understanding have evolved toward myself and the 19-year-old I was in 1991. I’ve learned how to live with the reality of being a rape survivor, and while I won’t let it define me, I have figured out that I can live out loud as a survivor on my terms. 

Nothing I say or do, and nothing I refrain from saying or doing will ever change the fact that just after 4am on November 2, 1991, I was kidnapped and raped repeatedly by two masked assailants. I would never credit either of those rapists with the person I’ve become today, but the trauma and years since have shaped me. There is no way any of it could not have. 

Shaping does not mean consuming, however. At every point since that November day, I’ve owned my life and my choices. I eventually took control of the pieces my life was left in and created something better. Better than the pain and anguish. Better than the fear and self-loathing. Better than never growing and experiencing the world around me. I’ll never know who I would have been had I never experienced that trauma, but I’ve found a way to be happy and proud of having the guts, determination, and love for myself that helped me create the best possible life as the person I became and continue to evolve into today. And given that, how could I not continue to acknowledge the trauma that was the catalyst to it all? 

Owning your failures and shortcomings creates strong character. Owning how you choose to move on after traumatic events creates resilience and the emotional terrain to find peace and strength again. I am not defined by rape, but rape has helped me define how I live I thrive in this life. #rapesurvior. 

A Glimpse of My Experience with Caregiving and Alzheimer's Disease

 What Alzheimer's looks like from my point of view as the daughter of a mother with the disease.

Clearly, it sucks. 

It's maddening. It's crushing and cruel. 

It causes strife in the inner circle and division where there should be unity.

It steals brazenly in front of your eyes and makes no apologies.

Loved ones turn on one another in its wake.

Self-doubt and uncertainty hang around, making it challenging to stay focused and resolute.

Guilt. So much guilt for so many things - none of which can really make a difference even if you could set them right.

A rollercoaster of emotional waves in a short period that have no rhyme or reason, and give no warning before they overwhelm you.

 Exhaustion. Total fatigue physically and mentally.

Entirely too infrequent moments of joy, happiness, and connection.

Fear. Will the agony of watching my loved one drag out for years? Am I horrible for thinking that? Is this my own fate in 10 or 20 years?

Having to remind myself to breathe when my mother reacts irrationally, and that her mind no longer functions as it used to before the disease invaded her mind. 

Realizing that as much as I try to do the right things, I will always be prone to human moments of error and impatience. 

The path to caregiving from a place of love, patience, and reassurance is wrought with hurdles and pitfalls – most of which come from decades of an established relationship and its reactions. The knee-jerk response to an outburst is always followed by regret. I've done far better than I expected I would, but there are still so many improvements I need to make. It does little good to berate myself over my missteps, so I choose to simply acknowledge where I fell short and try better moving forward. 

Alzheimer's constantly changes the rules of engagement and caregivers need to be adept at moving with as much grace and flexibility as they can muster. They need to know when to switch gears, and what to say in almost any situation where their loved one is fearful or confused that won't exacerbate the issue. It's a daily, sometimes hourly, game of this is where we are at right now,  and there is rarely advanced warning. 

Knowing how to respond to my mom when she doesn't recognize me is dependent on me reading the interaction carefully. I'm learning there are subtle cues before she ever utters the painful words "I don't know who you are" or "How do I know you, again,' and it makes a world of difference in her level of agitation if I become the 'stranger' before she has to say anything. I need to be ready to go from calling her 'mom' to using her first name in the next breath. Luckily, I've teased her by calling her by her first name throughout my life, so when she recognizes me again and I don't catch on right away, she isn't phased by hearing me use her name. Of course, there's a part of me that wants to be able to navigate this disease with the same familiarity and ease that I did in our pre-Alzheimer's relationship. 

All I can do is continue to learn, seek out resources, and be patient – with myself as much as with her. This isn't a race and there are no prizes for being a stellar caregiver in record time. Every day I learn something new, and every day I find adjustments I need to make. It's a crash course in being a better person all while dealing with the depth of sadness and loss. I am not the same person I was a year ago and I won't be the same person I am now when this is all over. Despite being thrust into this right along with my mom and our entire family, I know I can find the bright spots to hold on to. It won't be easy, but nothing worthwhile ever really is. 

When I fail, I commit to doing better. On the days I'm overcome with grief or anger, I remind myself that I need to stay focused to see the moments I can cherish. If I find I'm taking things out on others, I need to step back, breathe, and admit what I'm really upset about – then apologize. Each day, I resolve to do the best I can, to love my mother unconditionally, to treat her with dignity even when I don't understand, and to help her through this horrible disease with compassion, patience, and as much peace as I can bring forth in this life. 

Finding resources and assistance, as well as remembering the importance of self-care will increase the odds of navigating the ups and downs in ways that preserve as much calmness as possible. Which will also decrease unnecessary stress and upheaval. At the end of the day, I'm just a daughter trying to do the best I can for the woman who raised me, but if anything I experience and share can make a difference to someone else in a similar situation, I'm willing to put it all out there.

It's not always pretty, but it's 100% real.

Change Can't Happen Without Admitting Something is Wrong

Life’s easy when you live it the hard way... and hard if you try to live it the easy way.
—Dave Kekich

Admitting anything about ourselves that we see as a shortcoming or fault is never easy. It sucks at first. Exposing something about who we are and who we have been that we don't want to be judged for or are ashamed of is a tough exercise to practice. Getting comfortable with being uncomfortable takes character. It's also character-building. 

If only that last bit was a big enough motivator for most of us. We know facing the things we don't like or aren't serving our lives anymore would lead to a better life. The problem is most of us don't want to feel and deal with the shame or embarrassment those admissions will bring about. It's easier to avoid it. We also know that ignoring problems doesn't make them disappear.  Yet, we are so afraid to get real with ourselves and own our shit, we never get to the next part of actually changing what doesn't serve us or our lives. This means we never get to the part where we become the person we want to be living that better life.

As a child, I remember being mortified by doing something – anything – wrong. I felt foolish and embarrassed. I'd lament over it for hours, sometimes days. Inwardly berating myself for it. That pattern of negative self-talk started fairly early on. I had no idea at the time that it wasn't normal. Well, not normal in terms of how young I was to be so mean to myself. Abuse has a tragic and all too clever way of making us question, doubt, loathe, and judge ourselves on near-expert levels all the while blinding us to the reality that there is nothing wrong with us, that it's the abuse and the abuser that should be under the lights of interrogation. 

I've been doing a lot of self-reflection and analysis over the past few years, though recently I've realized that none of it is beneficial unless I'm willing to get uncomfortable. Like intensely uncomfortable. Whether we fully admit the things we don't like or know aren't in our best interest, we are aware of it all just the same on some level. So, if I know that I react in ways to others that don't reflect who I want to be and I don't admit it and do nothing to change it, I'm basically telling myself I'm not worth the effort. If I have an inkling that I have a few qualities that aren't great, but ignore them rather than dig deep for change, I've given up control and ownership of who I am. 

The prospect of staying in the status quo so I don't have to feel like shit for a short while just isn't as appealing to me at 51 as it was when I was a kid. I could easily jump headlong into a cycle of regret, but honestly, isn't that just another form of self-flagellation? Shame and regret are real and a part of life, but they don't have to take up space in our lives rent-free. Why would I continue to give up the authorship of my life and who I am to such cut-rate and talentless hacks who don't have my best interest at heart? Shame, regret, and embarrassment are not best-selling writers, and their entire motive is to preserve the status quo. 

No, I'm finally done with letting the cycle of negativity and doubt dictate who I am and how I feel about myself. I won't waste time wishing I had figured it out in my 30s. While the best time to get started was yesterday, the second best time is TODAY. Right now is a beautiful thing. It's an opportunity to act. Right now doesn't care if you tried countless times before. Right now understands we all stumble and fall, we all miss a step or fall behind sometimes, and it doesn't judge us for it. It's with us through thick and thin and will always allow us to try again. Right now is the best gift, though it won't always be there, so we'd do well to avoid taking it for granted.

Letting Go and Facing Change

 Ever feel like you're so scattered that every ounce of potential for any goal is escaping your grasp like grains of sand? Lately, I've been nagged by the realization that I'm essentially running in place. My focus and attention are so divided by all that's happening in my life that I can't accomplish anything. It's bad enough that I want to throw the skip-a-turn card just so I can gather myself and my thoughts. 

I've become my worst enemy, which is a good bulk of the issue. I know that I ought to be using my 'free' time more wisely, but most days I'm so mentally exhausted from all the directions I'm trying to go to be there for everyone that I've got zero desire to do anything constructive. It's become an awful cycle of binge-watching movies and series on streaming networks, just to block out all the thoughts I'm tired of rolling around in my mind. My attention span for things is so limited - I realized my phone and other forms of technology aren't helping, but so much of what I do depends on these things. 

When I first set out with my RV, my intention was to focus on myself and on my goal of writing. Life happens and well-laid plans get interrupted, and even change course. There are things in my near future that completely turn all those plans upside down. Despite this, I know that focusing on the negatives in this situation will not help me get any closer to the things I want. It's fine to feel disappointment and uncertainty, but at some point, I need to take ownership of my happiness and path to my goals if I ever expect to achieve either. 

Being a caring daughter and doing what I feel is right doesn't have to squash my dreams or my happiness. Alzheimer's is 'the long goodbye,' but it doesn't have to be all gloom and sadness. There is a way through this that is full of grace and love. There is a way for me to be happy and find joy along the way. I have so much to learn about this disease, my mother, my stepfather, and myself. I just need to reevaluate my life and go deeper to find the strength, desire, and will to face what could be a long and arduous ordeal with an open mind and a loving heart. 

I don't want to feel stressed or dread the time I have left with the woman who raised me. The mother who sang to me as a child,  who danced with my sisters and me in the living room, taught me to cook and love it, who was my rock and my shoulder for so long, and who always put my needs first. I believe there is a way to be there for her and still live my life. I just have to figure out how to balance it all, and I think that starts with eliminating things that don't work with this new path. 

So, over the next few months, I'll be spending time evaluating my life and letting go of comfortable and familiar things as I start introducing new habits and routines. I had no idea that the end of my 40s and the start of my 50s would involve me purging so many things from my life. The lesson I've learned as a result has been one I won't soon forget. Things are replaceable and nothing lasts forever. By letting go of things, material and not, I'm making room for new, better, more meaningful things at the exact time that I will benefit from them the most. It's not easy, but I believe it will lead to growth in more ways than I could possibly comprehend right now. 

Is Ignorance Truly Bliss?

 I've long been someone who prefers to be informed. About anything. While there is some wiseness to weighing the benefits of knowing versus remaining ignorant of details based on the situation, more often than not I am not of the ignorance-is-bliss sort. 

Have there been times when I wish I had remained ignorant of the details? Hell yes. At the end of the day, though, I find it easier to sort through the myriad of emotions surrounding a situation if I'm privy to information, no matter how uncomfortable. 

In the aftermath of being raped, even at 19, I always assumed my participation was a foregone conclusion in whatever aspect was required if the perpetrators were ever caught. I didn't expect it to be 13 years after the fact, and I had no way of preparing for three separate trials over the course of four years. While I was relieved that the case surrounding my case was solved, that outcome impacted my life in ways I couldn't have ever really prepared for. 

The truth of it is that I didn't have to participate in the trials. I didn't have to agree to receive ongoing notifications regarding the men convicted of raping me. I didn't have to choose to write victim input statements when either of those convicted rapists was considered for parole. But I did. And along the way, given my role as a witness, I chose to be as informed about the case and the men who raped me as I could. 

For me, ignorance in any of this is just as bad as having to dredge up all the bullshit every time this nightmare bubbles to the surface of my life. Not knowing if these two horrible human beings had inflicted harm on anyone else, or if there were more survivors of their degrading and violent crimes, has never been something with which I was comfortable. The nagging questions, the uncertainty, and the overwhelming fear that someday, one or both of them might find me far outweighed being in the know for me. No, being informed and involved took the what-ifs and the maddening questions that had plagued me for over 13 years and somehow gave me back a little of my power. 

That said, it is no less jarring to get those phone calls from the Commonwealth of Virginia. I'm fortunate to still be in contact with both of the women who served as victim advocates in those trials. It makes it far less stressful to hear that one of these men is up for parole or has gotten out of prison. The familiar, friendly voice of someone I trust relaying stress-inducing updates helps me keep my cool and stay balanced emotionally. 

As I have from the beginning, I chose to be involved in any way possible for the parole hearing of one of the men who raped me. I spoke with a parole board member, voiced my objections about this man being granted parole, and invoked my request to place a 3-year stay before he would be up for parole again. That means that every 3 years I will need to restate my objection in order to play a part in keeping this rapist where he belongs. Difficult though it may be, it's better than the alternative of this man walking around free, potentially raping again. 

I got word today - again because I chose to be informed - that the decision was to not grant parole at this time. I wouldn't say I'm happy with the outcome, but I do feel justice was served. This man, who shares the responsibility with another man in the causality of my life sentence - always knowing what it was like to be raped - should remain in prison until his death. And if it takes me pleading my case to a parole board every 3 years, then so be it. The worst has already been done, at least this gives me some semblance of control or say in life moving forward. 

Sometimes Things Just Don't Work Out Like You'd Hoped

 I've lived the better part of the past decade paying attention to how difficult or how easy something I'm doing is. I don't mean in the sense that if it's too hard I quit. I mean more around the outside influences. Of course, I don't always make the best decisions based on those measurements. 

But that doesn't change the fact that when I spend more time fighting against the flow of something than I do actually learning and growing from the process, it's time to take a step back and re-evaluate. This doesn't always mean I will abandon an effort; I may just choose a different path or seek different benefits to derive. Or I may choose to continue to beat my head against the wall because I haven't figured out exactly how to change my path or approach. Ultimately, that all comes down to reassessing what I was hoping to achieve or experience, and figuring out if those results or benefits are worth finding a new way to achieve them.

When I first moved to Austin, literally everything fell into place. My house went under contract and I had a job interview and house rental viewings scheduled when I went to scope the city out. In that short 5-day visit, I had a job offer and found the perfect house to rent. In just over 30 days, I had wrapped up my old life and completely set up my new one 2100 miles away. There was no question in my mind that moving to Austin was the right move. It just so happened that it was also the right time in my life. 

I approached this full-time RVing thing in much the same way. It has been a challenge from day one though. Nothing has come easily; there was no falling into place. From finding my rig to orchestrating a whole new way of living and working, everything has been an uphill climb. I'm by no means afraid of exerting effort. I don't believe the only things worth doing are the ones that come easily. That said, I also don't think that the path or journey should be all uphill. 

The long and short of my current situation is I bought the wrong rig for what I wanted to accomplish. Wrong in setup, wrong in size, and wrong in every other possible way. It would be one thing to tough it out in a rig that wasn't ideal; I could do that without issue. It's entirely another to face problem after problem in a new travel trailer because of shoddy craftsmanship. This rig would be completely fine if I were a summertime, weekender kind of camper. Driving and towing it from place to place, putting on serious mileage, and living in it full-time, however, are another story. 

The repair list is growing and it's been nearly impossible to coordinate with dealerships in my travels for a variety of reasons. The issues are ALL warranty related. From a persistent water leak in the bathroom to a broken window that cannot be locked in place for security or transit to a leaking skylight and rear closet wall, these are issues that shouldn't go unaddressed for as long as they have. The cosmetic things, like repairing and replacing wall boards with water stains can wait, but at some point, they'll need to be fixed so that I stand a chance of selling it. 

Given these issues and the stress increase it all has had on my daily life, I've decided that, for now, I will be staying in Texas. The reality is that I will likely call the Lone Star State my home for years to come, but despite Round Rock feeling like home, I cannot continue to move this trailer from place to place watching it fall apart mile by mile. I'm disappointed and honestly, I feel a bit stuck. But better to be stuck in a place I feel at home, than somewhere out on the road where I don't know a soul. 

So, to recap, I'm done with full-time RV traveling. For now. I'll continue to live in this rig until I get everything fixed and try to sell it this spring. I actually enjoy the more minimalist lifestyle, and being so close to my tribe is a huge bonus. I can't say that I'm done with RVing forever. There are aspects about it that I like and would love to be able to experience more of without the endless headache of a poorly made structure on wheels. I absolutely expect that at some point in the future, I will find the right rig for me, and I will continue the adventure. Until then, I'll be flying to see places and friends, and enjoying as much of this life as I possibly can. 

The Lack of Pressure is Refreshing

 It’s been a whirlwind couple of weeks. Between driving to and from SC, flying to Toronto and back, and starting my trek to TX, I’ve seen and done a lot in a short amount of time, with virtually NO break between. 

By no means am I complaining, as I’ve had a great time. Even with the insane weather delays on my flight into Toronto, I’ve met so many people I wouldn’t have otherwise. The short-lived moments spent with strangers can sometimes be all I need to maintain a positive outlook on the world around me. 

 

The older I get, the less inclined I’ve felt to branch out and interact with people, particularly people I have no relationship with. Living in a travel trailer and towing my home behind me wherever I go has brought me out of that comfortable bubble and introduced me to a world I had only heard about. 

Don’t misunderstand me, I’m still happy to spend most of my time alone, but I don’t waste opportunities to chat away an hour or more with people who are traveling via RV. Hearing about other people’s adventures and mishaps brings another level of investment for my own that I would never have guessed possible. 

In some strange way, these interactions are helping keep my inner cynic at bay and helping me realize that there are more people I can relate to than not. It’s great to have conversations with people I know I will never see again and that don’t want or expect anything from me. I feel like it makes the ability to have a genuine experience together far more possible. 

As much as I’ve lamented about the negative side of my journey thus far, I will say the people I’ve met have helped keep the flame of interest in continuing the adventure I set out on burning. That’s worth far more than nearly anything I can imagine - and it’s absolutely one of the main reasons I wanted to spend a year living in an RV to begin with. 

If you’re like me and new to this adventure, or you’re just considering making the leap into a trip of your own, I think it’s a beneficial idea to consider the impact of crossing paths with people having similar experiences and how it can add to your own. Sure, there is the independence of being able to go where you want on your own time schedule, there’s the experience of living far more simply than you might currently, and the excitement of the unknown, but meeting and talking to others who are in various states of expertise in this lifestyle can be, in my opinion, invaluable. 

I left NC this morning, landed in Knoxville, TN this afternoon and spent the better part of the past 3 hours having interesting and insightful conversations with a number of other RVers - retirees on extended vacations to full-timers to weekend enthusiasts - and I feel as though I’ve discovered a new tier in human interaction that I didn’t know existed. There’s a connection that isn’t overwhelming or weighty, but enjoyable and spontaneous that’s attractive. While I might not be interested in adding friendships to the ones I’ve nurtured over the years, these moments in time are incredibly wonderful to have. Like icing on the cake of human interaction. And I get to determine just how much or how little I want to indulge in.