I have always loved maps and globes. I have early memories of poring over the maps in my father’s National Geographic magazines. My glove compartment is filled with state maps that I have collected from welcome stations even though I now mostly rely on GPS for directions. A physical map gives me a sense of being in control, of knowing where I am, and of being able to see and plan ahead.
The summer before her senior year of high school, our oldest daughter, my husband, and I took the classic trip to visit colleges. Of course, with my love of maps, I was the navigator. I had the route all laid out, the glove compartment was full of maps, and GPS would be my back-up.
About two hours into the trip I opened the glove box to get out a map. To my horror, there was none! We had taken my husband’s car, and he did not share my obsession with maps. I calmed myself down by reasoning that I already knew where we were going, and the GPS could guide us to specific locations.
We made it to the first college, and as we headed out to the second one, I plugged it into the GPS. It said we were 12 hours away. This was not right! My researched route had it at 6 hours. I decided to ignore the stupid GPS and trust my instincts.
As we closed in on the next state’s border and its welcome station, I knew I had to have a map. I was doing fine relying on my memory of my prior plans and my instincts, but I wanted that map! A wave of relief washed over me when I finally opened it up and reassured myself that we were indeed headed in the right direction.
Why did I want that map so badly? Why couldn’t I trust my instincts to get us where we were going? Why did I need to see the big picture and where we fit in it? Why did I need to see the small details of roads and towns? What did it say about me that I needed to know where I was, where I had been, and where I was going? Would my life be different if I just rode the road before me, trusting that I would get to where I was supposed to be?
This is how I felt when my husband, Harvey, was diagnosed with young onset Alzheimer’s disease. No one gave me a guide book that outlined exactly where we were and where we were going. I had to navigate my own way. I would have preferred to know exactly what we would see along the way and know how long it would take us to get to each point.
We were dropped into the middle of Alzheimer’s world without a map.
In the end, I did develop a map of sorts. I researched, read, and looked ahead. I planned ahead of time how I would react to certain situations before they arose. I wasn’t able to anticipate everything, but it calmed me to think ahead and make a plan. I relied on my instincts as well, using Harvey’s reactions to guide me. And wise friends sometimes pointed me in a different direction if I veered off course.
I created a map that was unique to us.
2 Responses
You speaking theses words in the way of a map is on point. Just have to keep reminding myself of the past and this has helped to have positive times and accomplishments! When I have veered off to what I know works has had many disappointments and setbacks. It will take away and have to start over judt to get back to a happy medium sometimes.
Loretta, you are so right in reminding me that it is sometimes hard to stay on the path that is best and not get sidetracked!