Step back and breathe

Before January is coming to an end I’ll take some time to look back on 2020. That year was probably the darkest year of my life, and NOT because of Covid. As I wrote in a previous blog our family was confronted with severe mental health issues of our son in 2020 and we are still (trying to) deal with it. Trying, because after all these months I still struggle with it enormously.

I also wrote that I felt we were slowly climbing out to the light. Well I was wrong, we hadn’t hit rockbottom at all! It got worse and made us feel pretty desperate.

I’m grateful for all the help he gets from care givers these past months, but as a parent we feel a bit left out in the proces. I’ve always tried to lend an ear to whatever problem my children had and this situation was no exception. But to listen to the same story, worries and troubles over and over again is a whole new thing. How to handle suspicion and anger, doubts about therapy and his own mental abilities? What to say when the other one doesn’t want to live anymore? And how to behave when there is someone in your house who hardly speaks and shows nothing but anger?

The whole situation took its toll on me and I knew I needed to do something about it to prevent me falling apart. And although it wasn’t easy I decided to literally leave everyone behind and go to France in September for a corona-proof hiking vacation with my brother and SIL.

I have a professional person with whom I talk once or twice a month about all the troubles and he already told me I needed to distance from the situation by claiming more time for myself but that is easier said than done when you all live in the same house. Going to France however would literally mean creating distance between me and the ‘problem’ and I knew hiking could give me more peace of mind.

It turned out to be THE BEST decision of 2020. I will tell about the hikes in other blogs but they did what I hoped they would, I got out of my head and found peace of mind again, and it rekindled my passion for walking.

In hindsight the whole situation at home has taught me a lot about (dealing with) mental illlness and about myself. We’re not even close to an end to this situation and it’s not easy to realise that he can’t always control the anger and suspicion and that it simply happens to him but by distancing myself mentally I can handle it better. That doesn’t mean distancing from the person but from the situation and there are a few things that help me.

I use mindfulness to delve into memories that give me a good feeling, reliving them almost from hour to hour and thus taking my mind away from the worries. The roadtrip to Scotland in 2016 with friends I met on Twitter has been an anchor that helped me through the darkest moments. Long walks, usually on Sundays, help me boost my energy and clear my mind, while enjoying nature’s beauty. I also read a lot, listen to music from my youth (going down memory lane) and try to make time for creative hobby’s.

Furthermore I learned how important it is to talk about it with other people . I’m grateful to have family, friends and people at work who I can trust outside of my family at home. Especially the chats with far away but very close friends help me on a daily basis. Sharing my troubles with them doesn’t solve the problem, but helps to make the burden less heavy.

Walking the dykes of Flevoland

When I drove to Flevoland the first time, late October 2018, I was under the impression it would be a one time thing only, accompany a Peaker on one of the legs of her challenge. Little did I know it would be the first of many early morning drives to join a group of Dutch Peakers for a walk.

It was still dark when I left home at 6:30 am on that Sundaymorning and after a 2 hour drive, and picking up another Peaker halfway, we arrived at the starting point near Elburg, a parkinglot near a Beachclub. It was a chilly morning and we were craving for coffee and in need of a restroom and neither was available, since the Beachclub was closed. Until the owner appeared and we decided to give it a go and asked if we could please please have a cup of coffee. Shortly after he returned with coffee and even let us use the restroom, showing that hospitality and kindness still exist.

I have no idea what I expected from this walk. Of course I looked forward to this meetup and activity with other Peakers. And the 20 km walk would be a next milestone in distance, since, until then, a 16 km walk during a one-day visit to Istanbul and a 16 km downhill hike through the Samariagorge on Crete were the longest. I can only say that when I drove home I knew this was the first but definitely not the last part of the dykes I had walked! A long story short: in the end I drove 6 consecutive times to Flevoland for a walk over the dykes, a total of about 120 km for me. And I was not the only one. There was always a group of Dutch Peakers, varying from 2 – 10 to accompany our friend on her challenge. The total distance was 190 km, devided in 9 walks, of about 20 km each.

After the chilly start we were blessed with a gorgeous sunny day during our first walk. And even November let us mostly walk in sunny circumstances, chilly but sunny. It was as if the elements thought we needed to be tempted to come more often, which was completely unnecessary. We walked, regardless of the weatherforecast. Sun, rain, wind or cold, it didn’t matter. In fact, to me, sometimes the weathercircumstances added something extra to a walk. Afterwards it felt as if I had conquered an extra element. And I always drove home with a feeling of immense content, physically tired, but mentally revived and energised.

The surroundings were absolutely amazing. I never thought there would be so much variety in landscape while walking on or alongside a dyke. The southeastside and southside of Flevoland are slightly wooded and across the water the other shore is visible. Here we passed a lot of campsites on the shore and small and bigger towns on the other side. Flevoland is a flat province with wide open space and the more westward we walked the more the large energy generating windmills dominated the dykes. It’s a sight that is not to everyones liking but somehow they fit in this landscape, although I can understand that people living in close proximity don’t agree with me. They cast a giant shadow and are very noisy!

Along the westside and northwest side of Flevoland one side is dominated by the IJsselmeer, with sometimes a glimpse of Amsterdam across the water. Although the weather still treated us with sunshine, the winds were stronger and extra warm clothes became a necessity. Eventually November showed its true face. Our walk on the westside, through the Oostvaardersplassen, was a real challenge in itself. It was a grey and sometimes misty day, with temperatures just above 0°C that felt freezing due to the cold wind from the north blowing in our face, and stops were as short as possible to prevent from getting too cold. A deep sigh was heard when we finally reached the other side of the dyke where we found at least some shelter from the cold wind. On our walk along the northwest side rainprotection was needed, but on our last part, that ended where our Peakerfriend’s journey began, we were again blessed with a cold but sunny day.

Like I said before I never expected so much variety in landscape along these dykes. Whether it’s a landscape with forest, campsites and harbours or meadows, distant towns, or the vast open space of the IJsselmeer and the Oostvaardersplassen, each has their own charm. Combined with the uplifting company of friends it was a unique experience in every way. Challenges were accomplished, limits were pushed, elements were conquered and friendships were formed. But most of all, it was pure joy to be in the presence of a group of likeminded people, who were (sometimes) strangers at first but became friends along the way.

After all these Sundaywalks together we realised that we would miss these walks very much once the challenge was accomplished, and started thinking of continuing walking with groups of Dutch Peakers in 2019. Before the end of 2018 we had a scheme with 22 walks all over the Netherlands in 2019. Walks where one Peaker would/will show us a part of the province she lives in, her own ‘backyard’ or another part she’d like to show us. As I write this we just completed walk number 9 (blog: https://wp.me/paWbrQ-7C ) and I was lucky to participate in almost all of them so far. It already brought me to beautiful places and there is more to come from Dutch Peakers walking the Netherlands.

I am still grateful for the fact that one Dutch Peaker challenged herself to walk the dykes of Flevoland and allowed us to join her and that I took the step to do so. Going through the photoalbum I made and seeing the joyful photos makes me smile every time.

Sometimes the smallest step in the right direction ends up being the biggest step of your life. Tiptoe if you must, but take the step!

Friendship through the Veils of Time

Yesterday hubby and I paid a visit to friends we hadn’t seen in a very long time.Our friendship goes back 35 years, from the time I met her when we started working as physiotherapists in a practice in Krefeld in Germany. After working in that practice for 1,5 years we went different ways, but our friendship remained and both our partners joined in that friendship. Sometimes many years got by without meeting or having a chat over the phone, but every time the 4 of us met it was as if we only met last week and we picked up the thread where we left it. Yesterday was the first time in 6 years….

We have a lot in common besides our profession. Age, married, 2 children, various interests, enough to fill hours of wonderful conversations and visits are always filled with joy, fun, jokes and laughter.

But for more than 25 years we share worries because of health issues too. I with my hubby with multiple chronic illnesses, and she as a 3 times breastcancersurvivor. My hubby started to have issues with his health when he was in his 30’s, my friend was diagnosed with breastcancer for the first time when she wasn’t even 40! And being a partner of one of these people, her husband and I were confronted with all the sorrow and worries that come with it, meanwhile keeping things on track for families with young children.

Above, and despite, all we all share a strong determination to go on, not to quit, no matter what. My hubby still works, despite his pain, poor lungs, a pacemaker and a hipreplacement. And my friend, well, she got back to work as a physiotherapist only 4 weeks after she had both breasts amputated last time the cancer came back, 10 years ago! They both (and we with them) kept on going where others had already quit long ago, saying: “there are always people with bigger issues.”

Keep on going like this is only possible when partners are equally strong and determined, no matter how hard it is. And as a partner you grow in it. It becomes part of your life and way of living, to take your partner’s health into account in almost everything you do.

And now the 4 of us are (almost) all 60 years of age and slowly we start to realise that we are tired, that it’s enough. That a life of taking responsibility, being determined to go on and never quit where others would, took its toll on all of us, patients AND their partner! That we have reached our limit.

Reading our partner’s healthfiles should be enough for authorities to say “you’ve done enough for society, you get the recognition and the rest you deserve”. Instead we have to fight to convince authorities of it and our government expects us to work longer because statistics tell we live longer. We know we’re not alone in this, and that there are many others like us, and of course we won’t give up. We never did, and never will. But with every year that passes it gets a little harder, it requires a bit more effort, it hurts a little more, and we realise:

We are strong, but we are tired.