Life, as we all know, can be tough. Very recently my mother was diagnosed with severe dementia and had to go into a nursing home. My independent clever mother who used to laugh so hard her whole body shook and could whip me into a rage as fast as she could lift me out of one, was diminished. My mother has always hated locked doors. When she had a house her front door was unlatched night and day. Now she lives behind doors that require codes to open that she will never fathom. I get to walk through them. In my menopausal fugue, heart aching from saying goodbye to a woman who soon won’t know me and to children who have just left home, I get to walk through them.

My mother has given me a gift, one she will never be aware of. I feel gratitude that I get to walk through the doors. I had a well paid job, with a nice title, a good pension scheme, and a big office. Once I realised that I had the freedom to still make changes I spent some time reflecting, and then I handed in my notice at work. I am not recommending that for everyone, God knows in some ways it was a crazy thing to do, but something in me had opened. I qualified as a personal development coach, I went back to the draft of the novel I never had time to finish, when my girls came home I was able to enjoy them undistracted, I stopped for the first time in a long while and just looked up. Sometimes it feels scary, stability can be comforting, but more scary is the thought of just staying still, of not being able to walk out of a door and into a day that has real meaning.

We are all capable of far more than often we believe we are. Life gets tough, but there is always a way forward. I wish my mother was ok. I would love for her to make me mad again, and to shake with laughter with her, but that isn’t going to happen, so now I choose to see her dementia as something that has taught me about living. The doors have opened. Let’s all keep them open for as long as we possibly can.