Life is a series of great paradoxes.

To know success, we have to know failure. To find ourselves, we get lost. To gain, we lose. We can’t know light without darkness. And one of my favorite paradoxical quotes from Oscar Wilde is “I can resist anything but temptation.” Opposites seem forever linked. Without one, it’s difficult to define the other.

It’s been about a year since I posted about my mom’s dementia. It’s been a couple of years of watching the slow and steady decline. I suppose it is getting easier to say the words, but certainly more difficult to navigate the realities. This is a post about my mom, planning, and paradox.

One of my beliefs is that great leadership and planning starts with the ability to look at a situation, see it as clearly as possible and then react to what you are seeing without judgment. Planning also requires you to predict or guess in October what the situation is going to be in May. Planning is essential. When you’ve been at something for a long time, you tend to get lulled into thinking you “know”. You know the outcome. You know the answer. You know what’s best. Sometimes it’s because you just want it to be so. In my everyday life, I rely on data, benchmarks and other metrics to help me see things clearly. But I also know it’s important to be on guard for things like the recency effect or confirmation bias…the tendency to interpret new evidence as confirmation of your existing beliefs or theories. This can lead to flawed or fear-based decisions.

My mom can no longer stay at her assisted living facility as they are not equipped for memory-care services. She spent a few days with us recently as our family struggles to find solutions for what to do next. My mom and I had what I would call a pretty good few days together. We had family game night with the kids, we shared a bottle of wine, we attended two of Stella’s soccer games, and we ate avocado toast together for breakfast each morning on our favorite bread from Whole Foods. Her walker fit into the trunk of my car and we stayed busy. Don’t get me wrong; there were lots of strange and frustrating conversations based in her chronic paranoia and anxiety. But I’ve become fairly adept at the art of diversion. I simply steered us clear of any conversations that might cause us (me?) discomfort and stayed laser focused on fulfilling the plan I had set out to execute and measure. We had plans and we stayed busy. After night one, I turned to Dale and proclaimed “See? She’s not that bad, right?”  I can’t even tell you if he replied because I already had my own confirmation of what was so. By day two, I thought out loud after she went to bed; “She really may not need a full memory care center. She is really pretty sharp, don’t you think?” Dale cautiously replied “I think you’re seeing what you want to see.” That gave me pause and forced me to reflect; though if I’m honest, probably in an attempt to prove him wrong.

You see, diversion has been my coping mechanism for my mom’s dementia and frankly … It. Is. Exhausting. It’s like playing a never-ending game of whack-a-mole. Gone are the days of easy comfort with my mom. Gone are the days of typical mother-daughter roles. I know I need to quit trying so hard to deny what I already know to be true: my mom is not okay and is not going to get better. By night three, she came out of the guest room to inform me that my neighbors had jumped over the fence and were messing around with Stella’s swing set. I stared intently through the darkness of the backyard until my eyes burned. I wish with every ounce of my body that I could tell you my neighbors were on our swing set that night.

Any good planner knows you can’t become attached to what you thought would happen and ignore what actually is happening. That’s easier said than done when you’re emotionally attached to the situation; especially when there is confusion and fear and anger in the mix. This continues to be a long and arduous road and we have many tough decisions and conversations ahead of us.

Thinking of paradox, this song has been running through my head lately. I’d like to think this 45 was in my childhood jukebox, but I’m really not sure. Somehow it has given me comfort knowing we need to do the right thing in the right measure, even when it feels extremely cruel.

Nick Lowe – 1979 – (and covered by others)

Cruel to be kind – In the right measure
Cruel to be kind – Well it’s a very, very, very good sign
Cruel to be kind – Means that I love you baby (baby)
(You gotta be cruel) Gotta be cruel to be kind

I think there’s a time to try hard, and a time to try easy. There is a time to put in the effort, and a time to let the effort stand for itself. There is a time to prepare, and a time to take a leap of faith. There is a time to continue to plan, and a time to appreciate what is already there.