Selectively Juggling

What makes you nervous?

The nervous system is a complex and beautiful thing, especially when it’s well regulated and doing what it should.

Nervousness on the other can either propel it’s owner forward to achieve things just outside of their comfort zone; or conversely stupify someone into a full freeze mode.

What makes me most nervous is watching loved ones, especially my children undergo medical tests, such as MRIs etc, knowing that there is the potential for results which will be devastating.

Case in point, my mum has just been diagnosed with stage IV metastatic cancers – aggressive and life ending. I’m nervous about my mother suffering. I am not nervous about her pending or eventual death, as I held my father as he passed, and by doing so I am no longer shocked by the process of death and dying. I caught a glimpse of the release, the letting go and transitioning, guided by love and dignity. I am nervous that my mothers pain will become intolerable. I’m also nervous about my mother’s journey to pure acceptance, especially given she is such an incredible woman, who needs to be amongst all the action, drama, excitement and life.

I am also nervous about my siblings ability to lean wholly into this moment and support mum, without the need to project their own emotional struggle and needs onto her.

I am confused by the incredible clarity and sense of congruence I have. Perhaps a result of my personality, role of being a Social Worker and Grief Counsellor, and by being the one to stay with Dad as he passed away.

When Dad passed I knew I needed to be strong for my mum and my youngest sister. This time I get to experience this journey ‘uncompartmentalised’ – solely as a daughter. I have consciousnessly decided to focus on my mum, my relationship with her, and my children’s relationship with their Nan.

I have consciously chosen to step onto the periphery, as there are many sisters at the centre with mum. I have never been the designated fun daughter or sibling. I have been the problem solver, the confidante and ‘serious’ child. They come to me with problems, never to join in on the spoils of some hilarity. Although I can be fun, it’s not the frivolous kind of fun that is valued within my family. But that’s okay – I know who I am.

Although on the periphery, my role has been to challenge and make my siblings question, challenge and think further. To not allow them to create problematic narratives that may feel like short-term gain, but present serious long-term pain. They want to sugar coat the realities, the truth and details in a hope that it will starve off the advancing realities and heartache.

I am nervous that after my mum passes I will drift further away from some of my siblings, because invariably we are so different, and there is a long history of trauma. Although my sister (10th child of 10) and I (8th child of 10) are the youngest wave of so many children; we’ve become the most adept of navigating adulthood. We’ve long learned to take care of our own thoughts, emotions and needs. Whereas older siblings had become so enmeshed with our mum, of needing her to be part of their problem solving tool kit, that when mum passes they will be left with more than just losing their mum, but also part of their epicentre.

Don’t get me wrong, I love and deeply respect my mother, yet I know that she will soon pass. I am cognitively and emotionally prepared for that wave to hit. I am allowing myself the grace to not fight against that tsunami size wave, but rather become jelly-like and flow with the currents. Nervousness and anxiety comes in the belief that I can control that crescendoing wave. The reality is I can simply choose to respond gently, not react blindly.