I am realizing that my coping mechanism for stress is cooking. It's the clock in my routine and also, a vehicle for comfort and craft. I initially thought all this cooking was somehow for my parents. That preparing these nutritious meals were the means to their health while securing some level of comfort to our home. Now, I am realizing the effort is often for me. It's comfort in the idea of purpose, encouraging me out of bed so breakfast can meet the table. A creative outlet that cures boredom and is nutritious at the same time. Cooking is becoming a meditation. It grounds me.
Alzheimer's and dementia plays with the mind. As my parents' memory loss increases so does anxiety, both theirs and my own. The anxiety doesn't discriminate based on a diagnosis. Everyone is fair game, demented or not, and I can sometimes feel panic waving at me from a distance. As panic creeps in, I cook. Sometimes I even dance and sing. The combination of entertainment and comfort food is enough distraction to curb a moment's unraveling, dismissing the chaos about to ensue. Apparently, the horrifying sound of my singing voice can bring the room to a screeching halt. Even the dog stops in shell-shock. But whatever, I feed him too...
Oddly enough, something about the food and entertainment formula works. As a caregiver, you cope and provide comfort as best you can, utilizing whatever weapons are in your arsenal. Mine happen to be food and a knack for the theatrics (or maybe not?). Weapons aside, my advice for anyone in a similar position is "do what you love, for those you love" and let joy be the creep for a while.
Now, without further ado, I give you Creamy Curry Asparagus Soup!