When I was growing up, I learned to ask permission before I did anything. This habit was ingrained for many years. It carried over into our marriage without my realizing it. If I wanted to do something solo, I asked Jack’s permission first.

In some ways this was a good thing. It laid the foundation for a marriage where we discussed everything and made all our major decisions together. In other ways it wasn’t such a good thing, because it meant that I unknowingly deferred to everything he wanted and put him first. As wife, I laid aside huge parts of myself “to make the marriage work”.

In this respect, Jack’s dementia has been a gift. I would never wish it on him; don’t get me wrong. It is hell to deal with, and worse to watch him go through it. It is not a path that either of us chose. But there is a gift in it that I have just recently discovered. It is the freedom to be my full self, for the first time in my life.

I realized that involving Jack in all the decisions is something that no longer works. This doesn’t mean I don’t tell him anything. He is still my husband and wants to be part of the decision making even though he no longer understands. I will never make him feel excluded.

What it does mean, though, is that I have let go of the need to explain my decisions, justify them, or ask his permission before I do something. He comprehends things at a child’s level. When that realization finally sank in, it was a light bulb moment.

You wouldn’t ask a child for permission to spend money. You wouldn’t ask a child’s permission before you made a financial or a medical decision for him. You wouldn’t involve him in complicated matters, like wills and POAs. If he asked what you were doing you would tell him and answer his questions. But you wouldn’t get his permission before you made said decision. The child might complain about a decision or say hurtful things, but this is due to his more limited perception and understanding. It is not because the child hates you.

Jack is a child in his understanding. This is hard to see, but it is also liberating. It means I don’t have to take his hurtful comments personally, nor do I have to alter my behavior to keep him happy. He no longer realizes what is in his best interest, and he is no longer fully able to care for himself. In that respect he is the child. And I am the parent who must care for him and make the decisions that are in his best interest, no matter how much he might complain or say unkind things.

This means that, for the first time, I can add myself to our marriage. I can take actions that benefit me as well as us. I can invest in myself and in my own future, and build a foundation that will support me after he is gone. And I don’t need to ask his permission or defer to him if he says no.

It is a bittersweet moment. Bitter because I have lost the partner who would celebrate my decision to go back to school. It was the one thing he always wanted me to do, but we never had the money. Now that we do, he wouldn’t understand my choice. The dementia, which breeds paranoia at times, makes him think I am stealing his money and that I am planning to leave him. So I didn’t tell him about this expense. It was not a choice I made lightly or happily.

But it is also sweet, because I am realizing that I matter. For the first time in my life, I can decide for myself without having to explain, justify,or ask permission. This moment for me has been a powerful awakening. It means that I am a person in my own right. And it is okay to be me.