It’s odd. My mother-in-law told me all the way in the beginning that my capacity to enjoy things would not be affected. My first thought then was “whatever”, but it’s actually true, I still relish the good things in life. One would expect a drastic change in my attitude toward life, but so far only small things have changed. Granted, I did become a bit more weepy. I’ve always cried easily, but nowadays there’s really no stopping it. The symptom fits the diagnosis, though. I’m emotional, but I still don’t want to be “sweet”.
January 1999
I’m still a massive control freak. Christmas dinner, groceries, packing for holidays (Floor acts as my body, she’s got more of a talent for precise packing than I do. I usually throw everything in a box and let Hein do the dirty work. Not with her. Everything is fitted and measured before it’s packed.) and now I’ve started planning a family trip to the Jura Mountains. I’m still highly involved and not even close to developing a devil-may-care attitude. It’s amazing how one can stay themselves, even during hardship. I’m sleeping a lot less and want to more present, especially to Hein, Floor and Ward. I can’t sleep my life away. Something I do indulge in is lying down in my bed to think about what and how I’m doing; a sort of internal dialogue. It keeps me in balance.
March 1999
There’s no person I can get more at odds with than my mother, about the smallest things. Just like when I was younger. I’d get so angry and frustrated. Everything is unfair. My ability to enjoy life is greater. I still feel childlike wonder and fun every time I visit the pier in Scheveningen or shoot some fireworks on New Year’s Eve or when we go outside to have a snowball fight. I’ll be there, leaning on my rollator. I’m there with them and I’m having fun.
I’m still bringing my A game to bridge night. I’m in it to win it, not to sit by the sideline.