Role-Playing for the WIN!

Exciting news! Mom is entering an art competition!!!

We’re not sure when it is, or where, or who else is competing, but who cares? Those are details that are, at this point, irrelevant and only clutter the true objective! Today, in this minute, Mom is preparing for a competition and, like every contest she has ever entered, she intends to WIN.

What matters most is that the judges, whoever they are, choose her work and that an illustrious title will be bestowed upon our victor. Cue the applause.

I was never one to role-play.

I didn’t act things out with my kids. I didn't use fake voices or dress up in costumes. I was terrified of giving speeches in class or being on stage. And, it brings me zero pleasure to think of inviting anyone to judge me.

My thrill-seeking Mom, on the other hand, thrives on attention so, I willingly – and, some say, brilliantly, possibly even on the level of an Oscar-winning performance – jump into the roles of agent, advocate, and fan to support her climb to fame.  

For weeks, Mom has spent countless hours taking down and packing up the dozens of pieces of artwork that animate the otherwise sterile walls of her long-term care room. When she moved onto the third floor last January, we carefully hung the beautiful paintings she had created three years before believing it was important that she be surrounded by familiar scenes and pieces of herself. 

To say the walls are suffering would be an understatement. There are large gouges out of the drywall and paint from the many times she has torn the painting off the wall. Those holes can be repaired… later. Keeping a healthy spirit is what matters most right now. Her visions of victory and the preparatory packing give her purpose, get her moving, stimulate her mind, and bring her happiness.

Our chatter about the competition is passionate and joyful.

The flurry of activity to prepare for the art show doesn’t happen every day, but when it does, it's magical. We fantasize about what she's going to do with the awards she'll win, what she'll wear on the read carpet, what she'll say in her acceptance speech, which famous stars she'll meet, and what TV shows will feature her.

It doesn't matter that there is no actual competition.

The merriment it brings Mom and the actions she takes in preparation for the prestigious event are brilliant. It is fascinating and inspiring to watch her come to life as she dreams about the accolades that will come her way. She shines so brightly as she reflects on her talent and achievements.

Ten minutes from now, or later tonight, or tomorrow, when the competition is once again forgotten, she will ask who stole her paintings and destroyed the wall. After I have calmed her anger and fears of a stranger entering her room with the sole purpose of stealing her masterpieces, I will hang them all back up. She'll nod, smile, thank me, and then ask if she's missed the entry deadline.

This is all ok. When the routine is not maddening, it can be calming. Repetition offers comfort. Comfort offers piece of mind. Peace of mind offers sanctuary - albeit temporary.

Believing she will be recognized as a distinguished artist is spectacular.

At a time when it’s becoming more difficult to find reasons to celebrate what a beautiful human Mom is and to find positive experiences, the fictitious art competition is a wonderful distraction. It brings Mom a sense of accomplishment and hope for the future.

I embrace these moments when the difference between reality and truth no longer matter. I wish I'd had the courage to pretend earlier and more often.

Lessons Learned

• Trading who we are for who we need to be to comfort those we love is liberating, rewarding, soothing.... and fun!

• Reality is what we believe it to be in the moment -- nothing more, nothing less.

• The world of make-believe is a beautiful, healing place we should enter with abandon and enjoy the magic that happens within it.

UPDATE: In the weeks that have passed since I wrote the post above, Mom has declined significantly. Perparations for the artshow are now a source of angst rather than excitement. She is increasingly less stable on her feet and falls often so the staff have asked me to remove her paintings to keep her from doing so. Those who provide constant care are concerned that it is too dangerous and upsetting for her to constantly move the paintings, so the beautiful artworks that she has forgotten were hers have been packed away and are being kept safe at my place. The holes in the wall are ugly and make the room feel empty. I hang paper posters up when I visit now so we have something nice to look at and talk about but I take them down when I leave. There is much excitment and chatter when they go up and vigorous agreement that they should come down before I leave so that no one steals the cheap art that lacks the soul her works embodied.