There is now a name for it:: Decision Fatigue!

This was a link on Facebook that directed me to a 7 page article from the August 17th New York Times about Decision Fatigue (I refer back to my blog, of August 4th). I have been wondering why I am so tired of late. Even with all my so called "help" these days, there are still decisions to made of who comes what day, what time, if I do this in the morning then I can't do that in the afternoon....if this one comes on Tuesday,then probably shouldn't have them again on Wednesday...should I stay home when someone is here, to clean, or get out while I can...but I have nothing to do, I could just go to the library where it is quiet. AND what do I make for dinner.

Anyway I excerpted parts of the article below that I think make my decision-making induced exhaustion understandable. The original article deals with how Decision Fatigue leads to lack of will power. In my case, it just supports being tired.


"Decision fatigue helps explain why ordinarily sensible people get angry at colleagues and families, splurge on clothes, buy junk food at the supermarket and can’t resist the dealer’s offer to rustproof their new car. No matter how rational and high-minded you try to be, you can’t make decision after decision without paying a biological price. It’s different from ordinary physical fatigue — you’re not consciously aware of being tired — but you’re low on mental energy. The more choices you make throughout the day, the harder each one becomes for your brain, and eventually it looks for shortcuts, usually in either of two very different ways. One shortcut is to become reckless: to act impulsively instead of expending the energy to first think through the consequences. (Sure, tweet that photo! What could go wrong?) The other shortcut is the ultimate energy saver: do nothing. Instead of agonizing over decisions, avoid any choice. Ducking a decision often creates bigger problems in the long run, but for the moment, it eases the mental strain. You start to resist any change, any potentially risky move —......

Decision fatigue is the newest discovery involving a phenomenon called ego depletion, a term coined by the social psychologist Roy F. Baumeister in homage to a Freudian hypothesis.

These experiments demonstrated that there is a finite store of mental energy for exerting self-control. When they forced themselves to remain stoic during a tearjerker movie, afterward they gave up more quickly on lab tasks requiring self-discipline, like working on a geometry puzzle or squeezing a hand-grip exerciser.

The cumulative effect of these temptations and decisions isn’t intuitively obvious. Virtually no one has a gut-level sense of just how tiring it is to decide. Big decisions, small decisions, they all add up. Choosing what to have for breakfast, where to go on vacation, whom to hire, how much to spend......"

200?

So last night my Mom sighed when I tucked her in and said,"You know I am really beginning to think I will live until I am 200!" I responded, "200, now that would be amazing,I don't think I have heard of anyone who lived to 200, outside of the Bible."
She:"What are you talking about????Lots of people live to be 200 and more!" I asked:"Are you meaning, 100?" She really got disgusted and said, "No, I have friends who lived to be 200 and even older, I need to find the Reader's Digest to show the list of names." I usually just let her talk and share the story as she sees it...but for some reason, I said, "well if you do live that long,you will have to move in with Buddy (my brother) because I don't I will be alive by then." She choked up and started to cry! I said "what is wrong?" She answered,"Its hard when a child decides to precede you in death." I said,"Mom I would be 170 yrs old if you were 200." And she answered "so?"

And sometimes we laugh....

Just so I don't come off as a completely depressing blogger;I want to report that last night, my Mom and I laughed like crazy people.

I was putting her to bed after what had been a really tough day for her. She was quite weak and frail. She usually tells me every night that she is amazed that she ended up living:a) so long or b) with me.

Last night before she could say anything, I said "I am so glad that you are living with me. I am happy that I can take care of you. It has taught me so much and I know I am a better person for the experience." She looked up at me with her hands up,gazing into my eyes, with a sweet looking of yearning and said "Can I have a piece of kleenex?" I totally started to laugh and she did too. I said "I thought you were going to say something very profound" and she laughed and asked if I liked that word. For some reason that was hysterically funny to both of us.

As I tucked her in, she said "You know that some of the "girls" my age say they are feeling great and they can drive and do everything. I feel great too, but only when I am laying down." That,too, sent us both into lots of laughter. I love those moments.

And one more thing................

I have a friend, who told me,many years ago when she was planning her son's Bar Mitzvah about that "one more thing". I think I remember the story correctly:she was saying all the different decisions that she had made and thought she had handled calmly and well. All the little stuff, the invitations, the wording, the table cloth color,the napkin colors, the centerpiece, the table placements, the clothing,down to the yarmulkes(the beanie like hat that Jews wear into synagogue). The last question, what color the yarmulkes needed to be sent her over the abyss.

I was thinking about this last night. All day I do my best. Responding to "I gotta go", to answering the same question numerous times,and trying to be as kind and patient as I can be. Last night after a particularly bad evening in the bathroom, Mom got into bed (I undress her, put on her gown and help lift her legs into the bed). After I straighten the lambskin(bedsore protection) and the bed pad(wetness protection) so there are no wrinkles in them, she decided to lay on her side because her back hurt. So position changed with appropriate pillow props. She was too close to edge of bed....changing again. All settled in. Just as I am leaving the room...."wait a minute, I need kleenex. I need to blow my nose." And it is that one last thing....that almost gets me...but deep breathes and the Serenity prayer, that is my saving grace.

And could anyone really be mad at tiny lady that sleeps with a stuffed kitty?

Hope

Hope: not as in Obama Hope, although he was the last President that my Dad voted for. He was thrilled to live to see the first Black (okay 1/2 Black President)...but this ain't politics and with all the governmental financial hoopla that goes on, my finances are of my own making, I can't blame it on any president.

Hope is something that I wish I had a bit more of these days...I don't even know what to hope for. I am just tired tonight. I just got Mom into bed and she is not feeling at all well.

I would like to wake up one morning and feel energized. I would like to feel like I got enough rest. I would like to sit and have my coffee and think...and not be listening for anything or be on the alert. I quickly feed the cat and let out the dog. I put an ice cube in my coffee so I can drink it fast enough to get the caffeine kick that I need to walk outside.

I would like to not feel guilty about giving my horses their breakfast quickly,giving each a scratch in their favorite place (Rebel, his back, Cisco, the belly) and say, "Gotta get inside boys, My Mom might need me" If it is early enough, I can scoop poop in the round pen, since Arnie does everything else out there. My horses, owning them was a dream come true, now they are 27 and 29 years, pretty aged for horses. By the time I care for the finches in the aviary, I feel like I can't take care of one more living thing....and my Mother isn't awake yet, or my husband.

My Mom gets up and calls me, she looks cute in her bed and smiles sweetly. I uncover her and change her adult "briefs" (diapers), and clean her up and re-brief her. If the Hospice LPN isn't coming, I dress her in bed;at least her socks, pants and shoes. Then I get her up into the wheelchair and put her on the toilet for the first time. While she is there, I clean her teeth, put on the polident and hand them to her. Then wipe her. I get her back on the chair and take off the gown, then put on her bra,carefully lifting each breast into their cup and then her shirt. I comb her hair, clean the hearing aids and put them in and then clean her glasses and place them on. Also her wrist watch.

Into the kitchen, where I have all ready written the day of the week on her board, with pertinent information of who is coming for the day. I also have photos of Mom with each person that comes here and sometimes I need to put those out, if she can't remember who is who. I have her pills ready to go with her. I make a breakfast that I hope is enticing and that she will eat. This is only the beginning of the day.

So H-O-P-E? I can hope I see my grand-daughter soon, or that my daughter calls to fill me in on her busy life, that I can get something done, including errands, groceries and such in the time that a caregiver is here.

Hope? what would I hope for? If I hope for more freedom, I am hoping she will die, if I hope to have time to myself, I have to have someone in the house to be with her....I hope that my husband doesn't get cancer again, so I can re-new our relationship. Sometimes I wonder who will go first; my horses or my Mother. I hope that the jewelry in the gallery sells and that I feel creative enough to replace any sales...tonight I hope for a good nights sleep and maybe wake up feeling energized,rested and hopeful for a day....but as one of my friend's said to me,"The thing that sets you free, will the thing that makes you the saddest." So what do I hope for?