I’m a caretaker, and I don’t know the answer to what’s next. My spiritual side tells me to trust.

TRUST is the only thing I can do.

Caretaking is hard. At least right now.  My mother has never been easy. She is a square trying to fit herself through a round hole. She wants what she wants regardless of reality.  I’m left with no options except to wait it out until she can no longer make sound decisions for herself. In the meantime, I worry.

At 87, my mother agreed to take anti-anxiety medication. It is helping. I think of how different her life, my life, would have been if my mother had taken medication earlier in her life and learned coping strategies. I try to share calming strategies with her. She looks intently at me, and I’m not sure if she is comprehending or just staring blankly into space. Then she says, I’m fine. She forgets and loses things. She doesn’t remember what you explained to her an hour earlier. She gets easily confused. I worry dementia is standing at the threshold. I don’t know if she will be okay on her own.

My spiritual side tells me to TRUST in the right outcome and right timing. This is what I would tell you too.  I even have the ANGELS letting me know in various ways that they will take care of it, relax.  Angel numbers come up for me when I am most distressed, 11:11, 1:11, 2:22, 333. I know I am being heard.  Things magically work out when my mom is obsessing about something like the accountant being in his office when we walk in without an appointment and find him available. She needs to ask a question, NOW. He is gracious. This has happened numerous times.

TRUST is whispering into one ear and FEAR is whispering into the other. It’s like a seesaw of emotions going up and down, bouncing off the ground, one hanging for a moment suspended in mid-air before plummeting down and the other rising up.

Have you ever been in a situation where you know the most beneficial thing to do is to TRUST an outcome and WAIT? Trust is believing things will happen for your highest good without necessarily knowing how it’s going to happen. This is what it felt like right before I decided to get divorced.  I needed to trust in myself, my ability to know what was best for me and in my decisions, and to know it was all going to unfold exactly as it should.  I felt the see-saw then too suspended in mid-air between courage and fear as I moved to a new state with a new job not knowing anyone. It did all work out.

Waiting is the hardest thing, being in-between something ending and a new beginning, the dark hallway between two doors, one closed while another opens, knowing you can’t go back.

I realize part of the problem is my compassion. Not wanting to see my mom suffer. And I can’t make decisions for her.  Not yet.

So, I wait.  Today TRUST is thrust into mid-air.

I breathe it in knowing this is the only thing I can do.