Square Peg ● Round Hole







We are still on the hunt for the ideal caregiver.  On Friday, they sent a fill-in and of course, she was fantastic.  I did everything short of getting on my knees and begging for her to take my mother on as a client.  Sadly, she works another job, so she can’t commit to that.   So, we are back to the drawing board and frankly, the drawing board resembles an unstructured nursery school full of crying babies.  Oh, wait, that’s me.  I am the crying baby.

There are many layers to my mother’s situation.   It is complicated by her dwindling vision and her depression that is swallowing her whole.   The realization that she may be requiring even more care than just daily assistance is forcing me to figure out alternatives.    Does she need round the clock?  Do we just simply extend the daily care to 8 hours instead of 6?  These are all the questions floating in the air.   I simply don’t have the answers.

My spiritual recovery program teaches me to be open to all possibilities.   It encourages me to simply show up and be of service.    Most of all, it tells me that I need to put on my oxygen mask first, before assisting others.     This past week, telephone calls have gone unanswered simply because I have nothing to give.     That is my reality when I am being pulled in a various directions.     It has nothing to do with anyone but me.  You can’t squeeze blood from a turnip and this past week, I am the turnip.    And most understand that, but there are those who make it about themselves.  They know the situation yet, they ask if the reason I haven’t called or answered the phone is because of something they have done.  I kid you not.  These are adults acting as if they are twelve.   Lord……I don’t have the patience for that.

You know, I am simply an imperfect human being trying to navigate this unruly path that God has given me.  Sure, I know this is all going to work out in the end.   Sure, I get that God’s timing is always perfect.   That is why I surround myself with people who aren’t wrapped up in themselves.  They get me.  They let me wallow, but only for a moment.   They hold me up when I am too tired to do it myself.     Even in the quiet, I can feel their support.

A new week is starting and hopefully the solar eclipse will bring us a caregiver.   I am optimistic that she is out there and that my mother will get the attention she needs.   I just need to hold on to that hope.