Rx: Live with joy
Two years ago, the smartest woman I know became forgetful. She slept more; yet still felt tired. She got lost on the way to her annual physical.
Rebecca’s diagnosis—Alzheimer’s disease—felt like a death sentence. But her prescription—Live with joy—offered a new beginning. She retired from her high-pressure job as the chancellor of a major university. She studied painting with the fervor she applied to theology and every other subject. And she overhauled her priorities.
It’s rare for someone so accomplished to be diagnosed so early, and to be 100% transparent about her experience. So there’s a lot we can learn from Rebecca’s experience.
Alzheimer’s is devastating to the people who have it. And it’s excruciating for the family members who are forced along for the ride. In the hierarchy of suffering and loss, friends come third—and rightly so.
But friends? They volunteer to hang in. And trust me, it sucks. After dinner out together, I cry in the car the whole way home. When she tells me about other friends (or even loved ones) who tiptoe backwards out of the picture, I want to beat them up.
But instead, I try to follow Rebecca’s advice for living with joy.
Embrace who and what we love. Rebecca already knew what that meant, but some of us need clarity. Does “what we love” mean camping in the mountains or living at the beach? Retiring at 65 or launching a new business? And who matters the most? How can we show them how much we care?
Avoid what makes us anxious or depressed. We don’t need a doctor’s permission to say no to what bores us or depletes our energy. As the Covid lockdown begins to lift, it stresses me out to see my calendar filling up. So I vow to take it slowly and return to “who and what I love” before deciding what to do with my time.
Distinguish joy from fun. Fun is fleeting, whereas joy is a long game. It would definitely be fun to see Jimmy Buffet when he plays at Red Rocks. But I get more joy from knowing I taught myself to play Pencil Thin Mustache on my ukulele.
So I guess here’s my point: Why wait until a doctor tells us our time is limited? Our time already is limited.
We can do these things now!
Three years after her diagnosis, Rebecca is now writing a memoir. For more on her journey, watch this video and read her blog post about living with joy.
