Author Archives: Author Julie Seedorf

Unknown's avatar

About Author Julie Seedorf

As human beings, we are always a work in progress. From birth to death we live, hurt, laugh, cry, feel, and with all of those emotions we grow as people, as family members, and as friends. I'm a dreamer and feel blessed to have the opportunity in my writing to pass those dreams on to others. I believe you are never too old to dream and to turn those dreams into a creative endeavor.” I live in rural Minnesota and am a wife, mother, and grandmother. Throughout my life I have had many careers or should I say opportunities at jobs where I have learned different skills such as working as a waitress, nursing home activities person, office manager, and finally a computer repair person eventually owning her own computer sales and repair business. Add my volunteer activities such as Sunday School Teacher and SADD advisor and more and it's been a full life. I never forgot my love of writing and quit my computer business in 2012 after signing a contract with Cozy Cat Press for Granny Hooks A Crook, the first book in my Fuchsia, Minnesota Series. I currentlyntly have written nine cozy mysteries, three children’s books, participated in three group anthologies or mysteries, and write three blogs about various subjects.

Balancing Independence When Aging

Posted on by
Reply

Something About Nothing by Julie Seedorf – Albert Lea Tribune October 2014https://flic.kr/p/HCJzd

My mother was a very independent soul. She very seldom asked for help. I don’t think I inherited that part of her personality. I don’t have a problem asking for help. If I need it, I ask.

My daughter pointed out to me many years ago that by asking, I give others the chance to give too. I don’t know if my friends might feel that way about my asking. I feel I ask too much but I still ask. People can say no.

My friend Donna just spent two days helping me wallpaper my bathroom wall. She has a hard time saying no. That might be a problem if you have someone that constantly asks for help, and someone who constantly can’t say no. There is a fine line in the balance of give and take.

I suspect my mother didn’t ask for help because her life was spent helping her mother, who was most of the time bedridden or in a wheel chair, helping her brother who didn’t know how to cook and had health problems, and taking care of others who needed it. She became very adamant that she did not want to become a burden and did not want someone to have to take care of her as much as she had to take care of her mother. She didn’t want someone else to give up their dreams. She wanted to spare me that responsibility and was very stubborn about it.

What she didn’t realize was that her stubbornness made life much more difficult for those around her when it was clear she wasn’t managing her life very well, and couldn’t take care of herself, such as the time she broke her arm and didn’t tell anyone so we could take her to the doctor for help. Or the time she refused to go to the doctor when she had pneumonia.

We were happy to lend a hand with the cooking, cleaning, clothes washing and doctor visits, but because of her stubbornness it made life difficult not only for her but for us. It also led to outcomes that were detrimental for her and had more long term effects. It led to her being sicker and more injured than she had to be.

Had she let us help her, she could have stayed in her home. Had she let us help her, she wouldn’t have gotten so sick. As a daughter it was very hard and anguishing to deal with, because you love your parents and you want the best for them, the same as they wanted the best for you when you were growing up and in your adult years.

I see the scene happen time and time again. Older people do not accept their children’s help. They don’t want to burden them. They keep illness a secret so they don’t worry their kids, but their kids are worried none the same by their parents withdrawal and insistence they are OK, when clearly it is evident they aren’t.

The tug of war between them ensues, adult children trying to get their parents help and their parents resisting because they want to be independent.

The consequences of that stubbornness and fight to stay independent occasionally becomes worse for the parent and they end up sicker, unable to stay in their homes and in anguish because of the situation, when a little communication with their children could have had better results. Early intervention in whatever is happening in their life would have kept them more independent.

Having had to deal with some of this recently is what prompted this column. There is that part of us that wants to make our own decisions. We don’t want anyone telling us what to do. We want to be in control. We know what is best for our own lives. And…..we’re not going to let others control what we do. There is that fear of letting go and trusting others, even our own children.

I will tell you that when I was ill and I was in a depression, I could not make good decisions for my life. Had I not let others in and let them help me, the consequences of my life would have been much worse.

My age is increasing. Some days, it feels like it is increasing at a rapid rate. My mind is still good although the readers of my books might question that. And maybe, I lean too much to the wanting help when I am older because I do not want to make my children’s lives more difficult. Perhaps I lean too much in the other direction. I don’t know if I have that balance and if I don’t have the mental capacity later on to keep that balance that is what scares me.

We have made some preparation in case we become that stubborn independent older citizen. We have discussed the situation with our children. They know our finances. They know our wishes. Our children do not live in the same community or even 15 minutes away. We hope to move closer to our children so when we need more help, we won’t disrupt their lives so much, and hopefully we can put things in place so that our final years can be a blessing together for all of us.

I see the difficulty my friends have had lately trying hard to find a solution and a resolution with elderly parents who fight them at every turn, causing so much heartache for all involved. I don’t want my last years to have to be that.

We can’t predict the future. Maybe in spite of all my plans I will do the same thing to my kids. I want to be able to balance that fine line between independence and reliance. How about you?

“We’re taught to expect unconditional love from our parents, but I think it is more the gift our children give us. It’s they who love us helplessly, no matter what or who we are.”

— Kathryn Harrison, “The Kiss”

Rub A Dub Dub, Is It Time To Scrub – Your Pack Rat Ways.

Posted on by
Reply

Something About Nothing by Julie Seedorf – Column published in the Albert Lea Tribune and Courier Sentinel week of September 24, 2014

declutter

It’s that time of year. Leaves are falling from the trees and we are preparing to hibernate in our houses for the winter.  For some, fall is a time when we clean, throw and purge all the stuff that we accumulate in our homes. We are always paring down and cleaning out the junk. The problem with getting rid of junk is that for some reason, we always accumulate more junk.

Right now I can imagine many men are blaming their wives for the accumulation of that which women call treasures and men call stuff.

I must admit I am married to a man that doesn’t accumulate a lot of manly treasures in his garage and in the basement. The carpenter tools he has, he uses. The clothes he has, he wears. His treasures are his golf clubs and a bowling ball that has been sitting in my basement for many, many years untouched, except by me when I move it to sort my stuff.

He doesn’t care what is on the wall in what he views as his room in the house, where he catches up on football, golf, basketball, racing and whatever sport he can find, along with all the “CSI” shows and John Wayne movies.

Recently we were out of town during a time when there were supposed to be some bad storms. Before I left, I wondered what I might want to hide in my basement in case the house blew away. I couldn’t think of a thing. My only worries were my cats, as they are my babies now that my human babies no longer live here. If my house blew away, would I miss my stuff that I think I wouldn’t miss?

If that is the case and nothing that I have materially in my house would bother me if it is gone, then why am I still holding on to it and keeping it? I am working on the theory that less is more, and am wading, again, through the stuff that I might use some day.

Helping with a recent relative’s move and the stress that I saw put upon their children at trying to sort out their lives of their parents makes me more determined to get going on letting go of stuff.

It felt like my birthday and surprises as I opened my stored boxes.  I forgot the treasures that were stuffed away in the boxes. When I say treasure, I don’t mean treasure that would mean anything to anyone but me, such as the plaster of Paris handprints from my children that they made in grade school. Or my mother’s rosary tucked away for safe keeping.

Our treasures are stuffed in boxes where we can’t see them or enjoy them in our daily lives. I remember packing my mom’s dishes — dishes I had never seen. If I had discovered one when I was young I would ask why they weren’t being used. She would always answer with the words “I’m going to use them for good.”

Good never came, and she never enjoyed the beautiful dishes she was given over the years, some as far back as her wedding. What good is stuff if it’s stuffed away?

Another of my bins in the basement held newspapers of the first few months that I wrote this column. Why did I keep them? I must have been going to make a scrapbook, but it never happened. I didn’t keep them because I thought my writing was so great. I kept them because I couldn’t believe someone actually let me write a column for a newspaper.

I emptied box and bin and the shelves became emptier. The closets are emptier as I tossed and, yes, boxed, but for charity. I have watched how hard it is for the older generation to move to assisted living, to nursing homes and elsewhere. I have listened and seen the tears that what is precious to them have to be left behind. It is hard to watch someone hurt because they are moving on, but the stuff that represents their lives cannot move on with them.

I have to admit that in my household it would be twice as challenging if we had double the stuff because the male member of my household was a pack rat, too. I know how hard it is to try and convince him to get rid of the bowling ball. I tried to convince him to let me make it into a lawn ornament and if he decided to take up bowling again, it could sparkle all the way down the alley. He didn’t have a vision for that. Judging by the stubbornness of the bowling ball keeper, the bowling ball making its home in my basement multiplied by more he-man stuff could have been problem for our children down the road.

I do know people who have the opposite problem that I do, the male member of the family is the pack rat and the garage is full, the basement is full and his man cave is full. At least I don’t have oil and tires and whatever it is that men collect hanging out at my house.

I have tried to get my husband to accumulate stuff over the years, going so far as to buy him some stuff that he never appreciated. I must admit that I only did it out of guilt. If he had as much stuff as I did he couldn’t give me a bad time about it. We could have been pack rats together, but, sigh …, it wasn’t meant to be.

I guess if I can’t convince him to be a pack rat, then I will have to join him. I will have to empty my shelves, my closets, especially my basement. My kids have been gifted and taken possession of anything meaningful to them from my household. I want it to be simple and easy for them, when I no longer can remember what it is I need, and think I need what I don’t need. Did you get that crazy sentence?

The stuff I keep and accumulate today might make someone’s life harder tomorrow. Do I want to do that to someone I love, or do I want the transition to be easier for all of us someday?  I don’t know. Ask me next year, there are a lot of garage sales coming up.