Snap out of It: An Unexpected Caregiver’s Way to Self-Care, Stability, and Survival

By Ellen Teitelman Wohl

In Snap Out of It: An Unexpected Caregivers Way to Self-Care, Stability, and Survival, author Ellen Teitelman Wohl shares her honest, emotional?—?sometimes funny?—?memoir of the continuing struggle to keep life whole while her husband Jack’s health falls apart, over and over again: bipolar disorder, coronary artery disease, lung cancer, diabetes, and normal pressure hydrocephalus, among other medical conditions.

While Jack has a remarkable team of doctors treating him, Ellen only has herself to rely on. As the unexpected caregiver, she deals with anxiety, frustration, and exhaustion day after day. She thinks something is wrong with her, but she eventually learns that caregiver burnout is real. Her inner-strength and resilience emerge through the personal discovery of “snap out of it” relief routines, self-care concepts, and ideas. The “snaps,” interspersed throughout the narrative, share light-hearted stories, personal experiences, and techniques that form the basis of her mental getaways that include cooking, gardening, reading, exercising, laughing, and more.

Ellen finally discovers support groups and guidance, which she shares in this memoir. Her curated resource guide leads you to websites, apps, and support groups dedicated to caregivers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Jun 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9781665724074

Ellen Teitelman Wohl

Ellen Wohl’s interest in wellness and self-care began when she was losing herself while helping her husband Jack recuperate from myriad illnesses. She thought something was wrong with her, only to discover that Caregiver Burnout is normal. By speaking with other unexpected caregivers, she knew they all needed a breather. Always a writer, Wohl began her professional career partnering with Grammy-nominated adult contemporary solo piano artist Jim Brickman. For fifteen years, she teamed up on award-winning advertising campaigns by creating and producing commercial jingles in Chicago, New York, and Cleveland. Subsequently, she jumped to the music industry, writing lyrics to many of Brickman’s popular songs. A contributing writer to Brickman’s “Soothe” campaign, Wohl wrote weekly blog posts with advice on bringing calm to a chaotic world. Ellen is a frequent guest on the syndicated Jim Brickman Radio Show, providing quirky life lessons. Ellen lives in Cleveland, Ohio, with her husband Jack. She enjoys daily laughs with her children and six grandchildren.

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Copyright © 2022 Ellen Teitelman Wohl.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Archway Publishing

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-6657-2406-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6657-2408-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6657-2407-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022909215

Archway Publishing rev. date: 06/17/2022

Contents

Acknowledgments

Preface

1. Gateway

2. Fun House

3. Dodge ‘Em

4. Fasten Your Seatbelts

5. Splash Mountain

6. Tilt-A-Whirl

7. Merry-Go-Round

8. Drop of Doom

9. Ferris Wheel

10. Roller Coaster

11. The Whip

12. Free Fall

13. Flight of Fear

14. Demon Drop

15. Wonder Wheel

16. Tower of Terror

17. Scrambler

18. Rotor

19. Gravitron

20. Spinsanity

21. Whack-A-Mole

22. Fright Dome

23. Laugh In the Dark

24. Yoyo

25. Mad Tea Party

26. Cyclone

27. Happily Ever After?

You Are Not Alone

About the Author

The difference between life and the movies is that

scripts have to make sense, and life doesn’t.

— Joseph L. Mankiewicz, American Filmmaker

For Jack

Acknowledgments

In my life, family is central.

Mom and Dad were with me for the most important parts of my life, to encourage my writing, creativity, and leadership, and to give me strength to get through the hardest times I never thought I’d be facing. I love them and feel their essence with me every day.

Our children Ricky and Mollie, Lindsay, and Jason, and grandchildren Adeline, Brennan and Callahan, Brody, Reese, and Myles are my constant joy and continuous inspiration. They make every day worth waking up to, live life, and keep going.

I’ve been lifted up more times than I can count by my sisters Paula and Cindy and my brothers-in-law Randy and Les.

I adore all our nephews and nieces who call to check in from their out-of-town homes, with support and their love for Uncle Jack.

My cousins enrich my life. We don’t see each other often enough, but I love you all.

There are way too many friends in our life to name them all here. I hope you know who you are. Even if your names ended up on the cutting room floor, your place in my heart is not diminished. I appreciate each and every one of you and look forward to sharing good times in the years ahead.

My family and friends who read and re-read my manuscript are appreciated beyond words. Your help, opinions, memories, advice, and patience pushed me over the finish line.

I am forever grateful to the many doctors who got Jack and me through the worst of times so we could enjoy the best of times.

My life is enriched with faith, hope, and strength from Rabbis Louis Engelberg ZL, Josh Foster, Michael Hecht ZL, Jim Rogozen, Hal Rudin-Luria, and Cantors Jacob Frankel ZL", Martin Leubitz, and Aaron Shiffman.

Snap Out of It would have never been written were it not for the encouragement and incredible editing by my dear friend Bill Anthony. I thought I knew how to write, but Bill took me to the next level. He managed to draw out memories from me and convinced me that they were an important part of the book. I learned so much from his strong guidance and gentle push. Bill is worth more to me than a perfectly prepared standing rib roast. He is the consummate editor.

It took a pandemic for my friend and long-time writing partner Jim Brickman to convince me that I had far more talent than it takes to plan fan events, edit cookbooks, and take on other random projects at Brickman Concerts. Over the four decades we worked together, his inspiration has taken me to places I never knew I could go.

My friend Steve Potash of Overdrive believed I had an important story to tell and that it needed to be told right away. He pointed me in the right direction to get it published and into the hands of the people who would benefit from it.

The Champions of Caregiving.com helped me realize that caregivers are key to recovery and that we need to care for ourselves too.

To everyone caring for a loved one, I see you. I hope something I’ve written brings you comfort and strength.

Preface

Snap out of it: an unexpected caregiver’s way to Self-care, Stability, and Survival is my honest, emotional — sometimes funny — memoir of the continuing struggle to keep life whole while my husband’s health falls apart, over and over again. I’m a wife, a mother, and a grandmother, and this is the story of how I learned about resilience, interwoven with inspiration for repairing a spirit shattered in a thousand pieces.

Snap out of it, Mom used to scold us when my sisters and I were entangled in a teenage funk. Of course, there’s no way to simply snap out of a troubled mindset, especially as an overworked caregiver. But I found ways to escape mentally when escaping physically was not an option. I tapped into familiar actions and behaviors that I have turned to since childhood. They became my reliable snap out of it techniques. I share them as Snaps throughout the book. We certainly won’t have the same go-to escapes, but my intention is to spark ideas and motivate you to discover your personal breathing space.

Snap Out of It reaches out to the increasing number of accidental or unexpected family caregivers who are challenged with the overwhelming responsibility of caring for a loved one. Caregiver Burnout, depression, exhaustion, and anxiety are the collateral damage of enduring nerve-wracking days and nights. Take care of yourself while he’s in the hospital was the advice (or warning) I was offered. Uh-oh. What am I getting myself into? I wondered.

When Dad was battling non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, Mom took care of him, doing things I never imagined that I could or would do. Her strength in the face of his weakness surprised and amazed me. As I faced constant challenges while caring for my husband Jack, I confided to her that I never thought I could manage it the way she did. Dad’s fight lasted less than a year. Jack’s cornucopia of illnesses are a constant ebb and flow, year after year after year.

I was never trained to be a caregiver. It was completely unexpected. Yet, I was compelled to step into the role because I love my husband, and frankly, I thought no one else understood him the way I do. I’ve met so many women and men who are in the same position, dealing with sacrifice, frustration, and disappointment. We all wear the same weary look. This isn’t how it was supposed to be.

I don’t have a degree in nursing, social work, or psychology. I have real-world experience. I ride up and down the roller coaster, spin in circles, plunge into darkness, and somehow land safely — until the next go-round. This is my story. It answers the proverbial question, How do you do it?

I hope you sense my compassion, gain hope, and find some ideas to help you help yourself.

— Ellen Wohl

1

Gateway

No sparkling lights on the midway, only flashing red and blue beams cutting through the darkness. No happy tunes on a calliope, just the shriek of a siren piercing the silent night. Living with my husband Jack is like being trapped on a wild amusement park ride. No emergency exits. Emergency rooms. I shake my head and wonder, why does it always happen at night?

It’s 1983, Jack is 31, and his undiagnosed mental illness is rocking our foundation. I wander from room to room in a daze of disbelief as our happy home becomes a House of Horrors. The strangeness of this menacing man torments me, a monster on the fringe of his rational mind, waiting to spring. In the shadows of this haunted house, I feel myself slowly disappearing like an invisible woman. I don’t know who I am any more. And who is this stranger that I call my husband?

Once the demon is under control, he sits beside me as we pull out of the starting gate of this uncontrollable roller coaster. Who knows what’s around the corner? The stomach-churning ups and downs are unbearable. I bend and sway trying not to be jolted by the force of each turn. If I cry out, will anyone hear me?

Next, I’m playing Whack-A-Mole, struggling to hold the giant mallet. Every time I smack down one problem, another pops up. Finally, all I can do is throw the mallet down in total frustration when everything goes haywire.

Time rushes by in a blur with no chance for me to catch my breath. We have a Fast Pass that moves us straight to the front of the line of the next anxiety-fueled ride. We’re stuck on the carousel, round and round. There’s no escape from a mind-numbing life stuck on repeat.

Nothing can prepare us for the next tumultuous ride. Life is whirling out of control. It’s the Rotor when the floor drops out, leaving us spinning wildly as the walls suck us up. Every ride is overpowering, and there’s no way out. That’s exactly how I feel, frantic with anxiety and fear. And how I have felt for more than forty years.

Stress is a state of mind that I try to handle on my own. I pick up every magazine that promises Ten Ways to Relieve Stress. Ten Ways always include getting a personal trainer, a therapist, or a guru. I can’t afford a professional, and besides, I don’t have time to go. Not having time for myself is actually part of my problem.

We hit the jackpot by living in Cleveland, Ohio. Jack has the greatest doctors in the world caring for him. I have myself. When family and friends remark, I don’t know how you do it, my standard answer is I wasn’t given a choice. But the question remains, how did I get through it with my peace of mind, even my sanity intact?

Eventually, I stop taking advice from experts and look within myself for answers. It isn’t a deep dive into my psyche. That’s not me. It is more of a common-sense reflection, taking in even the mundane, and asking the right question: What makes me feel good?

I’m guessing that you’re struggling with many of the same stressful issues that I have as a caregiver. Yes, I have, not had. Although circumstances change over time, the way I react doesn’t fade into the past tense. I know what causes my stress but dwelling on it doesn’t help me or anyone close to me.

That’s why my focus eventually changed from fear to strength. The activities I share in this book helped me find ways to redirect my thoughts and distract me from my fears. I shift my mindset while my world whirls wildly.

It’s healthier and, honestly, more realistic not to deny or neglect the stressor but to distract from it, even for a few minutes. I learned to focus on creating a diversion, a peaceful shift in my thoughts. That’s eventually what helped calm my nerves as I dealt with forty-plus years on my husband’s medical odyssey.

I don’t expect anyone to do exactly what I do. I hope that some of my ideas will spark and inspire you. We are all superheroes with our own super powers. My strengths aren’t your strengths. That’s exactly why I toss away the cookie-cutter do this, don’t do that advice.

When my sisters and I were stuck in a frame of mind we couldn’t escape, snap out of it was Mom’s go-to admonition. She taught us that negative feelings and situations don’t have to rule our lives.

Of course, there’s no way to simply snap out of it. In my case, snap out of it became the mantra I used to alter my emotions and train of thought when I was stretched to my limit. I had to snap the defeatist self-talk, snap the attitude, and snap the anxiety. But how?

When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves, wrote Victor Frankl, Austrian neurologist, and author of Man’s Search for Meaning.

There are no magic words or wands to wave. As Glinda, the Good Witch, told Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, You’ve always had the power, my dear. You just had to learn it for yourself. The power is in us. We can find it and use it to make our way back. We can exit the wild ride and enjoy the calm, any time we want.

2

Fun House

Coming of age in the late sixties and early seventies was cool, yet it was an uncertain and disturbing time to transition into adulthood. American Top 40 with Casey Kasem was playing chart-topping songs, while the mood of the country was heading for an all-time low. Four students were killed at Kent State University, less than an hour’s drive from my home. The Vietnam War was dragging on, and young men were struggling through college courses just to avoid service.

I was never involved in war protests staged by Students for a Democratic Society. My opinions were my parents’. So, I was always the good girl — the obedient daughter. The middle child who tried to smooth things over and make life easier for everyone else. I would never think of embarrassing them. It’s not that I was a Goody Two-shoes. I just wasn’t a typical teenager in the late sixties.

I was enjoying leading roles on stage and TV, playing everything from sweet young things to wicked witches at the well-known Heights Youth Theatre in Cleveland, Ohio. Life there was magical. My friends and I went from one fairy tale to another, playing roles totally separated from reality. Mr. Jerry Leonard, the youth theater’s founder and director was a major influence on my life and on the lives of so many others.

He nurtured us and taught us to dream and believe that anything was possible. With his guidance, giving one hundred and ten percent, both onstage and off, became part of our DNA. We developed poise that furthered not only those pursuing acting careers but also many who became courtroom lawyers and corporate executives. We were kept so busy rehearsing, there wasn’t time to look for trouble. His daughters Debby and Helene were two of my closest friends. Their little sister, Wendy, who’s a lot younger than us, became my dear friend many years later. In all the time I spent at their house and the theater, Mr. Leonard was like a second father watching over me.

Our idea of being rebellious was learning all the songs from the Broadway musical Hair and performing them with our singing group, Happiness Unlimited. It was laughable when I was called a hippie for wearing pink wool bell-bottoms to a dance at my synagogue. My life was pretty tame — or is that lame?

Independence was not a destination on my road map because I had no idea what independence even meant. My parents made my decisions for me, and I obediently followed their rules.

I never appreciated how good an actress I was until I went off to The Ohio State University (OSU) in 1970. During the first quarter of my freshman year, my friend dragged me to an audition for the Theater Department’s main stage production of Hay Fever by Noel Coward. I was just there to lend moral support, but to my shock, I was cast in a major role. That was unheard of for a freshman.

Now, I was caught in a major dilemma. I would have loved to accept the role, but it was my very first quarter. I didn’t know if I could even handle my college courses. On top of that, Dr. Bowan, the director, offered me a future in the elite Bachelor of Fine Arts (BFA) program. I was over the moon with excitement. It was nearly impossible to be accepted into the BFA program, and here I was being offered a spot without the rigorous protocol, auditions, and interviews. My trip over the moon lasted half a second.

I knew that, when I called home, Dad would never approve. Although I wanted to be Broadway’s next Julie Andrews or TV’s Barbara Walters, he wanted me to have the security of a teaching degree.

Not wanting to rock the boat, I turned down the amazing opportunity. But I was secretly pleased with myself, especially when I had classes with the egotistical BFA kids, happy that I didn’t behave like them.

I enrolled in a program that satisfied the best of both worlds. I had a theater and speech major with minors in broadcast journalism and English. To appease Dad, I earned a teaching certificate for good measure. I acted in other stage productions and learned to be a solid producer as well as on-camera talent.

It was so cool hanging out with my classmates during our daily coffee and doughnut breaks at Jolly Roger. We all had so much in common, being both creative and practical. I was in my element when I was writing, producing, and performing. None of my dorm friends were artistic types. I was a freak. Yet, I was confident and happy, and my self-esteem was in a good place.

Teaching, on the other hand, intimidated me. My brain and stomach were in constant turmoil while I was student teaching in a rough, inner-city high school. My four-foot-nine-inch stature didn’t command much respect from the students. I cringed as I heard them whispering behind my back. When I was shoved up against the blackboard by a few sassy girls, it took two football players to pry them off me. Needless to say, nausea set up camp and didn’t subside until the bell rang at three-thirty.

Suddenly, it was spring 1974, and I had two quarters left before graduation. I had survived the inevitable parting with my wonderful college boyfriend, and I had no idea where my career and life were heading. My future was a jumble of confusion, but I wanted to do something crazy to remember my college years. So, I dove into the murky waters of Mirror Lake, a beloved OSU landmark, for a yearbook photo shoot.

June, July, and August promised to be carefree. I looked forward to enjoying my last summer of freedom with a job at the Jewish Community Center Anisfield Day Camp. It was my second year there. I was the counselor with a talent for leading camp songs at the drop of a hat, corralling spirited campers into crazy activities, and cooking a mean shish kabob over a blazing campfire. In my wildest dream, I never expected the summer of ‘74 to become a corny rom-com.

I had met Jack the previous summer when we were both working at camp, but I had never paid attention to him. After all, I still had a boyfriend. But this summer, he emerged in a very different light. I suddenly noticed him: good-looking, big blue eyes, tons of wavy black hair, and a great tan. And he had a smile that made me melt like a sweet, gooey chocolate bar left in the sun. Jack was the counselor the little girls hung on, and the little boys emulated. He was full of life and was pretty mischievous, sneaking around the rules that our camp director thought were crucial. Watching him play with campers on the grassy mall, I oddly remember thinking that this guy would make a great dad. Sure, he did the things all kids did in the seventies. Smoked pot and drank a lot. But that changed when we started dating.

Our first date was on the Fourth of July. My good friend Dawn was dating another camp counselor. She decided we should ask Jack to go with us to Holiday Sands, an old-fashioned family swim park. What the heck? We were friends by then, so Dawn, Brian, and I conspired to invite him. He didn’t return Brian’s phone calls, but when Dawn and I called his house, we could hear him yell to his mom, don’t hang up.

I didn’t consider the bunch of us going swimming to be a date. But it was the first time I’d been with Jack when we weren’t surrounded by a pack of six- and seven-year-olds. Driving out to the park, we played Jewish Geography, figuring