Inner peace is elusive the more we try to control others. True contentedness results from relinquishing control over other people’s thoughts and behaviors.

That’s what I’m in the process of learning. Am I half way? Who the hell knows. All I know is I will never arrive at the Total Acceptance train station.

When Lynn was diagnosed with Multiple Systems Atrophy and the symptoms started taking over our lives, I had unusual clarity about what I wanted to provide her in whatever time was left. I said to her, “I want this final chapter of your life to be as calm and comfortable as possible.”

As it has turned out, what I wanted was totally irrelevant. Her thought process was completely different, saying through her actions, “I want to ignore this diabolical disease to the best of my ability and maintain as much normalcy for as long as possible.”

Which makes caring for her so much more difficult. She’s always been uber-considerate and kind to a fault. Now though, her preternatural consideration is getting squelched by widespread atrophy. The lack of dopamine in her brain is wreaking havoc on her body and mind. I have to remind myself she’s not making a difficult situation more difficult on purpose. It’s brain chemistry.

A few examples. Six months ago or so, after dinner, I was able to say to her, “I’m going upstairs to read in the bath. I’ll be back down in one hour. Sit tight until then.” One fall night while I was decompressing in hot water, the bathroom door slowly opened. “What the hell!” No one else was home. Lynn entered on all fours. She had wheeled herself to the base of the stairs, gotten out of her wheelchair, and crawled up the stairs and across the t.v. room into the bathroom. Because she “wanted to see what the upstairs looked like now”. It wasn’t pretty getting her back downstairs.

A couple of nights ago, she appeared in my peripheral vision as I was watching basketball in the office. “WHAT are you doing?!” “Crawling.” “Why?!” “Why not?”

“Why not” is her philosophy.

Yes, you’re right, her stubborn resistance to the disease’s progression is better than giving up on life, but man oh man, I wish I could get her to accept the ways her body is failing her. At least a little bit.

But I can’t. And the more I accept that she gets to decide how to live out her final chapter, the better for both of us.

Who are you trying to control? How? When will you throw in the towel? The sooner, the better.