Ahhh, spring!

Warm air, earthy scents, and yup, true to form, a new metaphor from me delivered to you.

It's been about three years since I've done any pruning in my yard and I was excited to have a peek at what's out there. Was it overgrown? Yes. Do I care? No.

It was heavenly just to be out. Not worried about all the things. Breathing.

My tools were at the ready, anticipating plants popping up in new places, eyes peeled for growth I didn't want. To my dismay, the Asiatic Bittersweet vine was everywhere, fiercely choking out bushes and especially our flowering quince.

Damn you! The sheers whipped out of my pocket and barrels began to fill with it's remains. Midway through my counter attack I realized that this is the way dementia felt to me.

The disease has slowly wrapped it's way around my husband and I, starting out innocent and undetected like the pretty new growth of the vine and eventually began choking the life out of each of us in different ways. The growth and progression has been parallel too. Three years of invasive vine winding, and three years since his diagnosis.

It's ironic the vine is calledBittersweet. It's another parallel since I find both joy in the moments and pain in the outcomes of dementia.

Now in a memory care community, my sweet husband is truly having the time of his life, making new friends, enjoying visits from old ones, and continually expressing his gratitude for the professional caregivers who love him. It has given me my life back and taken away the fear of injury for us both. Some of the vines choking me have been removed, and the ones gripping my husband, in a strange way have loosened their grip as his cognition and awareness disappears.

A few weeks ago, I went back to the Gingko tree (also spelled Ginkgo by the way) that inspired me to share our story. It was bursting with bright green buds and new life. It's a reminder that there will always be new life. For me and for Bill.

Without the daily stress of caring for my husband, I have time and space to be able to think creatively and get back to work in the studio with a renewed sense of purpose. Ideas are brimming and I'm excited to share the fruits of my labor as the work unfolds.

There are so many iterations in life, right? Ups, downs, ebbs, flows... Are you clearing away things that have constrained you? Hopeful for new life? You. Are. Not. Alone.

I'm so glad you're here with me, and I value your support of my creativity.

With gratitude,

Bittersweet’s innocent beginnings…
and destructive invasion

“Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars.
You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.”