...and so it begins

Yesterday evening, I sat in front of my computer debating whether I should click the post button on facebook. I wasn't sure if I really wanted to share something so personal with everyone. After much thought, I realized that maybe this part of my life would be exposed, this secret that I always kept wouldn't be such a secret anymore. But I also realized that this wasn't about keeping secrets, or bottling up the parts of my life that cause sadness. Sharing this part of my life was going to be a good thing, something that in turn, benefits my dad, other's dealing with Benson's, the audience that would be enlightened on the disease, and me too. I know that getting these feelings out will help me too. Having an outlet for this journey will be a good thing.

After the initial tears, and "what did I just do" thoughts, I sat back and waited. And almost instantaneously, my closest friends were texting me. They were proud of me, and believed in me. They told me that I was brave, and told me that I was going to change people's lives. Though this seemed extreme to me, I appreciated the validation and confidence they gave me. It helped me get through those initial fears and worries. 

From the friends who sent me long paragraphs about how proud they were, to the people who simply liked and shared my post, I want to say thank you. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have had the confidence to continue this. Without your support and love, I wouldn't have gotten 2000 views on my blog only a mere 24 hours after that first scary post. It's incredible, and it's because of the people who believed in me!!!

Your support has inspired me. I've taken on this challenge with excitement. I feel fearless. 

Today, I got a text from my dad. This isn't a rare event, but I really hadn't heard from him much in a while. In fact, I haven't seen him in almost a month, which is unusual in itself. Without a fear, I asked him if we could spend time together tomorrow. I told him when I'd come over, what we'd do, and for the first time, I wasn't mad that he wasn't the one asking me to spend time with him. I didn't feel anger towards him for not expressing his want to see me. This time, I felt eager to reach out to him. To make plans, and to take matters into my own hands. I know that this excitement to spend time from him comes from the confidence that you all have given me through support. 

I couldn't be happier. I've always felt so alone in dealing with this. With the knowledge that so many people are interested in my journey and want to support me through it, I suddenly feel like I have a safety net behind me,  there to catch me if I fall into a difficult challenge. So thank you. 

finding out that your dad has a form of dementia

It was February 2012.
I had been waiting for what seemed like forever for the weekend my camp friend Ellie would visit me. She had flown in all the way from Washington, D.C., and I was more than excited. Since her flight got in around 11 am, I left school early to pick her up at the airport. (I was in eighth grade at the time). My mom couldn't get out of work, so my dad was going to drive me about 30 minutes to pick up Ellie. I sat in the car, filled with the good kind of nerves. I hadn't seen Ellie for about two months, and she was my best friend. My dad made an effort to point out many "landmarks" on the way there. He would occasionally slow down to say "That's a tobacco field, this town is known for its tobacco." I tried my hardest to seem interesting, but all I could think about was how amazing the weekend would be.

All of a sudden, my eyes flashed down to a small compartment under his car's radio. I noticed a pill bottle, the orange kind. Being the anxious and curious 13 year old that I was, I quickly and nonchalantly examined the bottle. I had recently seen a T.V. show where a man discovered his dad's disease by picking up the wrong bottle of medicine at the convenience store. It was an emotional scene, and I imagined what kind of disease I could possibly discover about my dad. Would it be depression? Would it be high blood sugar? Boy, did I want to know.

The name of the medicine was complex, but what medicine name wasn't? Without hesitation, I pulled out my blackberry and went to google as soon as my cell service could provide. I put in the medicine's long name and it brought me to the wikipedia page for "Benson's Syndrome."I had never heard of this before. Half of me was nosey and interested, the other half terrified of what I might discover. After reading for about three seconds, I spotted the words "dementia." That was it. Everyone knew dementia. The disease where old people forget things, and people say "oh he's old, he's a little bit 'off'".

How could this be? My dad was in his mid fifties, and he seemed to remember most things. Sure, he picked me up late from dance practice and sometimes called me by my sister's name, but he didn't have dementia!

I read on. I read about the visual processes being affected, the difficulty with numbers and words. I was fascinated and horrified. It was real- he had this illness. Why hadn't he told me? Why hadn't my mother told me? (Turns out I was the one to inform my mother, she hadn't even known yet...)

This was the beginning of my journey. I started here, naive and afraid.