Per her Psychology Today profile, Dr. Whitbourne's "research covers a wide range of topics related to adult development and aging, including personality development through midlife, contributors to successful aging, predictors of memory performance, and the relationship between physical health and sense of personal identity."
My jaw dropped as my brain read that last bit, thinking about Mim, not just right now but throughout her life. And got me thinking about the chicken & the egg nature of what I've always experienced with my considerably older only sister - was her personal identity messed up because of her hormone-induced weight problems ~or~ were her weight problems exacerbated by personal identity issues? Or are the two so interconnected, there's no figuring out which preceded & which followed which?
It doesn't matter. Now, the two are toxically intertwined.
Weirdly enough, an article by Victoria AU's Department of Health created a mega AH HA! realization. A sentence left me drop jawed with enlightenment - Well-designed physical and social environments focusing on the quality of everyday life can help people continue in relationships that uphold a sense of identity and promote self-esteem.
No matter what her environment was, Mim NEVER seemed to evidence a strong sense of healthy personal identity, let alone a scintilla of self-esteem.
Over the decades, she never - at least in talking to me - showed respect for individuals, being highly critical, often derisive about people she claimed to care about. Will never forget her standing at a cousin's wedding reception & ripping into the mini franks in sauce, the surroundings in a shopping center, the hopelessly middle class crass of it all. And she LIKED these people. One reason I never learned basic socialization skills was because at home all we ever talked about - and none too charitably - was politics & other families.
Mim has always been a weird combination of a superficial bristly independence layered over deep dependency. Mom nailed it when she observed how much Mim resented paying for necessities & did so as little as possible. How she managed to get her undergrad degree from NYU & her masters from Rutgers - tuition, books, all of the incidental costs - remains a mystery for someone who didn't have a job, who apparently had no savings, and no other visible sign of equity.
Mim never had the slightest interest in improving family communication skills. All my efforts hit dead ends. "Maybe someday" was always dangled with the "but not now" refusal to have family councils with a communications professional. Impaired communication seemed to suit her just fine.
As for unmet needs - that was her typical state. For years, I bitterly joked that Mim could consider herself the most essential member of the family, because Mom & I loved to be of service to others & she gave us infinite opportunities. Sadly, while I was willing to let her forage for herself, Mom was not. Part of me was grudgingly impressed with my sister's knowledge of just which word or just which simple action would trigger Mom's sense of maternal protection for her chronically needy older daughter. I was spot on in calling her an emotional black hole.
It still intrigues me how Mim was all barriers, while expecting that Mom & I would have none. While I learned to respect my own, it was always a struggle for Mom. From her late youth, earliest adulthood, she'd had such expectations ripped from her. She was okay with Mim being all insurmountable walls & herself utterly vulnerable because that had been her reality since what probably felt like forever.
A certain high level of stress was built into associating with Mim, and with Peter as well. They were high maintenance children & siblings. it took John to point out that crying jags were really NOT meant to be part of a typical Christmas celebration. In my experience, they'd always been. Stress-free routines were never part of my family experience. Peter was always wishing we'd just disappear & Mim was always doing her best to spend most of her time with whatever other family held her heart. We were always the fall back, the place they ended up when no other was available.
One of the strangest experiences I ever had with my sister happened when I was around 10 or 11; she would have been 18 or 19. She described to me how when she married there would be all these different other girls in her wedding, but not me. It was strange because Mim had never, to the best of my knowledge, had the slightest interest in going out with a boy. She took great pleasure in describing how she would have turned down dates for the various required school dances, but knew that the guys would have to do "coal pile" (serve detention) if they didn't ask her. It delighted her. She never exuded any sense of sexuality, rarely took any pains to make herself look nice. It was only when she was in her forties that she took any interest in how her hair looked or developed any fashion sense. It's always seemed strange to me that my sister-in-law pegged ME as the latent lesbian, not Mim. But I've never thought of Mim as having any definable sexuality.
Small wonder the article from Victoria's Department of Health hit me so strong. It starts with behaviors that others should evidence when around people with dementia to nurture feelings of dignity & respect, to help support their sense of personal identity:
- Respect individuals
- Encourage independence
- Communicate appropriately
- Understand unmet needs
- Provide a barrier-free environment
- Plan stress-free care routines
- Respect sexuality
Did she shy away from them because of physical problems that were present from the time she was a chunky toddler, or did lack of them contribute to her weight problems, her lack of personal hygiene, her sense of being unattractive & unlikable? Does she live in a locked-down Alzheimer's unit rather than independently because she's thinks it's all she's worth ~or~ because she looks great, in comparison to everyone else?
Who's to know?
Am finally past caring.
She's where she wants to be.
Let that be enough.
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