One of the things the world seems to have screwed up in the past few decades is the idea that romantic love means that your person, is the only person you will ever need. That they will fit you like a glove and you’ll never want for anything or anyone else. If your partner isn’t your entire world, then you aren’t really in love with them because how could you disrespect your partner by wanting more than they can give.

I call bullshit.

My parents were married for almost fifty years when my Dad died. They were still best friends and routinely finished each other’s sentences. They valued their relationship above anything else. But, contrary to current pressures, they also had a variety of individual interests in addition to what they shared. They gave each other the freedom to be true to themselves without recrimination.

They both played shuffleboard and were part of a few clubs together. Mom loved to read and do handcrafts. Whereas Dad preferred to work outside. Mom participated in several groups and Dad helped to maintain the church building that my great-grandfather helped build.

When I was a teenager, they stressed how important it was to not glue myself to my partner.  “If you’re always together then you don’t have anything new to talk about. You’ll get bored if you’re just repeating what the other person already knows.”

As Jim’s dementia progressed and he became more dependent, I’d begun to think it was more important to keep him engaged and mentally stimulated than me. Convinced myself that I could always catch up with my interests later. My life started revolving around him. As he found it more difficult to focus and follow conversations, he lost interest in things that took him outside our home.

I found myself in jeopardy of losing my individuality. I realized how important it is for me to regain parts of myself that I’d left behind. If I didn’t I’d become resentful and trapped.

So, I’ve forged new creative outlets (this blog for example) which gives me an outlet to put my thoughts and fears down so they no longer swirl in my head. I’ve reconnected with friends online which fills in some of the gaps torn open by Dementia-Jim’s inability to hold a conversation. These simple changes have made me less stressed and a better caregiver.

Dementia is a long, slow disease. While you look after your loved one make sure you’re taking time to be yourself. Pursue hobbies and catch up with friends. If you’ve been married for decades, you may need to take time to discover who YOU are as an individual – instead of half a couple.

Mom had 48 hours from the time Dad collapsed until she wasn’t a wife anymore. She hadn’t been single since the mid-60s. Happily she and Dad had taken their own advice and stayed socially active throughout their lives. Mom wasn’t faced with starting her life over from scratch when Dad died. When she was ready, she just re-started her regular schedule of meetings and choir practice.

She had unintentionally, pre-established distractions form her lonely house and support from friends to help her cope with losing Dad.

So ask yourself questions now, before you completely overwhelmed with the responsibilities of Dementia care:

• How will you fill the gaps left when your spouse stops being a functioning member of your partnership?
• What are your interests? Is there an online version that you can do that won’t interfere with care-giving?
• Did old friends fall by the wayside? Can you reconnect?
• What can you do now to prepare yourself for being an individual again?

As you lose your spouse, what parts of you can you regain to better survive the emptiness and heartbreak of losing your partner one day at a time?