Some of you may remember a blog I posted a few days ago about my toddler moment. As opposed to senior moments, these absences from sanity can occur at any age. But tonight was my husband's turn to exhibit the temper of a toddler. His performance was characterized by a low frustration tolerance, followed by an overreaction that had the appearance of a toddler's clenched fists and kicking feet. Trust me, it doesn't look good on a 66-year-old man. But we generally forgive his frequent outbursts, knowing it's just the dementia talking.
Ever since my episode with toddlerhood the other day, I have a new appreciation for the horrible guilt and embarrassment these lapses cause you to feel. I know Dean still has those feelings too, due to the fact that he almost always apologizes for his blowups, even the ones he can't remember, which I call his blanket apologies. This realization of how it felt for me after my episode helps me have more patience in dealing with him when he gets disagreeable. Knowing he's not comfortable with the way he's acting either, I can have patience and true compassion for what he struggles with.
Didn't Jesus say on the cross, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."? Talk about compassion. The least I can do is share it with one brain-injured survivor named Dean, who often doesn't know what he's doing when he gets mad.
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