I am weary. Weary enough that I have been thinking about this post periodically for a couple months but have felt to weary to write it.

Weary, you ask? Why? I am a care partner for my husband who has Lewy Body Dementia (LBD) and Parkinson’s Disease (PD). It has been just over four years since his diagnosis and for at least four years prior, we searched for answers to explain his weird combination of symptoms. An eight year journey that has gotten progressively more difficult for both of us.

Weary enough that it is too much to go into the challenges or the feelings or the day-to-day sameness or sudden NOT sameness brought on by “Screwy Lewy”.

I have narrowed my focus and drawn in my energy. Gave up volunteering as a Master Gardener. Did not schedule any on-line workshops. Canceled my summer retreat. Stepped down from the presidency of my local library board. I hope to stay on to fulfill my term as a trustee. And I continue to serve on the library foundation board. I am grateful to have a few private coaching clients. I am fulfilled.

My daily meditation, walks, support groups, Pilates, friends, loving family, and incredibly grateful husband all help to keep me centered and grounded.

Throughout the day, I remind myself of something I learned from meditation teacher Sharon Salzburg. I can’t control all the events in my life. (Shit happens. Oh boy, does shit ever happen.) My power lies in how I choose to relate and respond to what happens.

So, as my therapist and some friends encourage me to NOT give up facilitating retreats, a wiser part of me knows that I am ready to do just that. I’ve held the space for groups for thirty years, starting as a Reiki Master Teacher. And, as a life coach, I still hold space for individuals on their personal healing journeys. That, too, will end someday, but not today.

For now, this is enough. I am enough. I will use my/our “resources” to hire help, clean our house, clean up the gardens, make repairs and necessary changes for our comfort and safety. And get additional help to support me and Win in this final adventure of our lives together. We have enough until we don’t.

I will go to Maine for a week of respite in June and that will be enough. For now.

Right now, it’s like this*. And this, too, will change.

* An edit a day after this post. I must give credit for the phrase: right now, it’s like this. Thank you to Jay Michaelson — writer, journalist, professor, rabbi, activist, and meditation teacher — for this alternate phrase to: it is what it is. Right now feels fluid, implies change. It is what it is, to me, implies finality. Since there is no finish until I take my last breath (and then, who knows?), I’ll stick with right now, it’s like this.