For years I worried about money, because there never seemed to be enough at the end of the day or the end of the month. I would focus on saving, working, scrimping and inevitably, when it came time to pay the bills, Peter would be left wanting. Robbing Peter to pay Paul was my mantra. Tricks bordering on unethical and against the law hovered in the air, while I held my breath that this precarious house of cards, this toothpick structure, would hold together for just a little longer. Such is the plight of single parenting in the '90s and today.
This single mom creatively thinking of ways to feed her kids, pay the rent, and keep the lights on. There were days when I realized I was worth far more dead than alive, and those days I wandered into frightening territory. Mental health in those days was known by fewer categories and employers were not so open to “mental health days” or the concept of taking care of yourself first. When the dark days came upon me, usually triggered by lack of money, the worth more dead than alive thought was fed in time when the life insurance payment came out of the ever-dwindling supply of money. There is a definitive difference between time and money.
In the work I do and the work of doctors, nurses, practitioners of all sorts, volunteers and support staff there is always training for us to watch for the signs of a person wishing to harm themselves. This “worth more dead than alive” thought does not always equate to money. Time is valuable and when someone is spending time in pain, daily challenges with chronic illness, or sitting for hours watching out the window, life can feel less valuable than the alternative. Everyone is trained to watch for a plan that can be implemented or words of hopelessness when the fear of dying has been erased by the fear that the current situation may not end soon.
I’ve heard myself saying more often lately how there are worse things than death. I am facilitating a course in Death, Dying and Palliative Care and I am astounded at how many people are afraid and simply cannot embrace death. I have also discovered I am odd. A macabre person who finds peace and completion in end of life. A person that believes we can be satisfied with our lives and realize when the end is near is a peaceful time of reflection and comfort. This said, I have discovered how many people are not satisfied with life or don't feel comfortable with their choices or their journey. Does death represent lack of living? Is it fear of being robbed of a good life, and if so, how in the world is one to have a good death?
I believe we are born into this life and will be born out of it into a new experience. It is my responsibility to have the best life and to correct wrongs, say I am sorry when I am sorry, laugh when something is funny and, most of all, build healthy relations with myself and those I am close to. When I am born into the next life, I will take with me the experience of this one and I want it to be good.
The pandemic has slammed the current population head on into a place of little control. I feel for the fear because the fear is a result of feeling out of control. So many people have now realized even with two, three or four doses of the COVID-19 vaccine people are still getting sick. Our hopes of controlling or extinguishing the virus have been dashed. Living with it and changing our direction as a human population is at hand. We are never in control of life and death, illness and dying. We can only be in control of putting our best foot forward in all domains of health; physical, emotional, mental, spiritual, social and environmental to live our best life. We are only in control of how we spend our time living this one life we are living and waking up to the possibilities.
Time and money are opposing because you can count how much money you have … you never know how much time you have.
As a grandmother, I watched as my grandsons arrived here on the planet, newly birthed little souls, curious and carefree, exploring, witnessing and experiencing. As I seek to head out the other end, making my life count, while I hope it is not for a long time yet, I am always ready and prepared should it be my time. Should the bank account of time be empty, I can go leaving my children and grandchildren with the knowledge that no matter when it is, I am ready.
We are born to this life and come down the birth canal not knowing who is there to meet us and it all turns out okay. So as you ponder death, maybe think of it in the same way. A new adventure with someone/something there to love us like only our mother can.
Cynthia Breadner is a teacher, author, grief specialist and bereavement counsellor; a soul care worker and offers specialized care in spiritually integrated therapies. She works as a LTC chaplain assisting with end-of-life care for client and family. She is the mother part of the #DanCynAdventures duo and practices fitness, health and wellness. She is available remotely by safe and secure video connections, if you have any questions contact her today! [email protected] breakingstibah.com
