What’s Next? - A Mindful Approach to Dementia & Psychedelics
Writing is very meaningful to me—an act that feels even sacred. Communicating, as I do in this blog, from a place of vulnerability and intimacy, calls for respect at every stage—contemplation, quietude of both mind and physical space, reverence of holding the reader, you, in my heart. The blog also honors Henry’s continued support and advocacy to share his story of living with Alzheimer’s. Thank you for joining me in this journey.
It is now towards the end of the Vermont summer. The weight of caregiving has overtaken that place in my heart and mind to ensure the space for writing. It has been a summer that started with my heart breaking in joy when we arrived in Toronto from Mexico, greeted by our daughter close to midnight, with a full spread of our favorite food. Then the next morning Henry, sitting on the floor with our grandson playing with the cat. There wasn’t much talking, just the felt and embodied presence of Henry’s gentle soul that uplifted our grandson who had been down in the dumps. They stayed by each other’s side for hours and by the afternoon it was as if a caressing angelic breeze had wafted over and through their hearts. Deep CONNECTION brought both of them into a place of greater harmony, of greater well-being, of greater wholeness.
My heart broke to a deep understanding that Alzheimer’s is a disease that can disconnect—the person from their (cognitive) mind, from their habits and routines, from their social and family life. Yet, here I was witnessing the power of connection. And in that connection there was great healing.
In the psychedelic space connection is the word I hear the most when describing the effects of microdosing or high-dose experiences. There is undoubtedly the potential to connect to one’s own ground of well-being. A greater connection to self is a huge benefit people report. The clients that I coach note that they feel more empowered in who they are, they ensure they get what they need to stay balanced (e.g., self-care, fitness, time for oneself). This is important for everyone, and for caregivers like myself. Connections to others and to the natural world are also regularly reported. Today I was witnessing the importance of connection for health and well-being.
Henry had chosen to stay in Mexico so he could swim, enjoy the nice weather, and focus on meditation, but he lacked connection. I also believe he was left alone too much, which may not have been good for his mental well-being. I cannot describe the relief to feel Henry had come back to himself—and it took less than a day. For how long I still do not know, but the window opened a bit wider.
Now back in Vermont I have successfully worked out a support system in which Henry is accompanied three days a week for several hours. Two different companions come. One works in the gardens so Henry can be alongside. The other, college-educated, highly intelligent young man keeps Henry mentally and physically engaged. They have playful activities that are extremely therapeutic: mud walking and swimming in our pond, chanting mantras, practicing asanas. With one of our daughters just ten minutes away we see her as well as our grandchildren on and off during the week. One granddaughter sleeps at our house once a week. These precious interactions and deep, loving relationships connect beyond the thinking mind and go straight to kindling the heart. It has been deeply healing for all. It has also been astounding to see how much Henry has improved since leaving Mexico. Sadly, at the same time, there has been decline in other areas: walking is getting more compromised, confusion over little things, getting mixed up about people, places, and time.
The decline implies more responsibility for the caregiver. In my case it implies being solely in charge of all decisions, billing, and financing of a homestead property where we have been for the last two years in Vermont, at least during the warmer weather. So although Henry is thriving (in the warm weather) we are now at the tail end of the summer. There have been a few cold mornings, the thought of a long, cold winter looms large.
I have wanted to ensure that what I love—being an active advocate in the psychedelic space for a mindful approach to microdosing and more—continues. The podcast Microdosing & More has been launched. I have been honored to have an array of inspiring guests such as Dennis Walker, Katherine MacLean, Jennifer Chesak, Cesar Marin, Hein Pijnnaken. The podcast’s weekly conversations aim to de-stigmatize the understanding of psychedelics. Through education and advocating for the reverent and respectful use of psychedelics, I hope the podcast can add a mindful approach to microdosing and more.
No matter what happens during the week, I have successfully been able to protect the space to prepare for the podcast and have the hour-long interview. The interviews are rich conversations which also lift my spirits and fuel my purpose and passion. Coaching others one-on-one to microdose also continues, with clients in different parts of the world and different stages of life. I love connecting with people individually and witnessing how mindful microdosing brings great benefit to their lives.
Writing has been more of a challenge. The blogs that have been posted throughout these last few months were written in real time. A few months back I had written so much that it took all summer to post all the entries. What has not been easy is managing the responsibilities of caregiving for a spouse at home in the United States. Living this very western lifestyle where shopping, cooking, cleaning, and more sits on the caregiver’s shoulders impacts the ability to have time carved out to write and keep up with weekly blog entries. Additionally, I had been writing on various topics based on a mindfulness approach to psychedelics. Before the summer, about one article a month had been published through different outlets. I have not written or submitted an article for publication in months.
So while Henry is thriving with companionship, engagement, and connection during the week, I am bearing the weight of what has become unsustainable for me. Knowing what the future will look like is yet unknown. What’s next? I really don’t know, but thank you for joining me in this journey, in real time.
Alzheimer’s, psychedelics, and mindfulness practice seem very similar to me in so many respects. All provide an opportunity to nurture kindness, let go of attachments, to cultivate equanimity, to live with a deep understanding of impermanence, and to cherish the preciousness of this present moment. And to do so with gratitude.
- Lauren Alderfer, PhD.
