When you are involved in being a caregiver, it brings up a lot of feelings. Some of these feelings are exhilerating as you experience the joy of giving unconditionally and experiencing the results of love in action. Other feelings are, to say the least challenging, the sadness of watching a loved one struggling, along with some of the frustrations that go along with making sacrifices.
I think it is safe to say that caregiving can leave you with a lot of raw feelings, regardless of attempts to push feelings away and forge on with the daily responsibilities of caring for someone else while trying to keep your own life afloat. On some days, you can keep those raw feelings successfully in the background, maybe by staying busy, or telling yourself you aren't going to let yourself get upset by anything. "I can handle this!" But then the moment sneaks up on you. An image of your loved one, what is, or what used to be, gets in the way. You hear a song or see someone in an activity that you used to enjoy together. You walk by a favorite restaurant. Suddenly, those darned feelings -- sadness, loss, fear -- get in the way. Your life and the life of your loved one, won't be the same, at least not for awhile.
Don't fight your feelings. Take some time and sit with those raw feelings. Let them happen. The irony is that we only give our feelings the power to control us when we try to keep them in a cage.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Space
Now that my mom has passed, I am continuing to learn about what it means to be a caregiver.
What I am realizing is that caregiving can expand to the point that it becomes a major focus, if not the main focus, in your life. I realize now that most of my emotional energy went in to taking care of my mother -- multiple conversations every day, watching over her healthcare providers, making sure her daily needs were met, making arrangements to travel to see her. The rest of my life went on cruuise control, at best, while I focused on her. It's what I needed to do at the time.
But I am seeing this big gap in my life. The focus -- her -- is gone. Each day is left with empty spaces that used to be filled by her needs.
I am not crying victim and saying that this is all insurmountable. From a zen perspective, my goal is not really a goal, but simply to accept not having a focus, not knowing. I am sitting with the emptiness and not forcing myself, or anyone else, to fill it. Some days this feels easier than others.
What I am realizing is that caregiving can expand to the point that it becomes a major focus, if not the main focus, in your life. I realize now that most of my emotional energy went in to taking care of my mother -- multiple conversations every day, watching over her healthcare providers, making sure her daily needs were met, making arrangements to travel to see her. The rest of my life went on cruuise control, at best, while I focused on her. It's what I needed to do at the time.
But I am seeing this big gap in my life. The focus -- her -- is gone. Each day is left with empty spaces that used to be filled by her needs.
I am not crying victim and saying that this is all insurmountable. From a zen perspective, my goal is not really a goal, but simply to accept not having a focus, not knowing. I am sitting with the emptiness and not forcing myself, or anyone else, to fill it. Some days this feels easier than others.
Monday, August 2, 2010
In retrospect...
My mom passed away on July 21. I went back over some of my blog postings during one of those many moments when I can't help but wonder what I could have done differently, mostly what I could have done better.
I had wanted to chronicle what was going on in my life as I was was being her caregiver. But by the time I started the blog, she was in that stage where she was declining so rapidly that the blog really became more about watching her move toward death, and being her companion on that journey, than it was about being a caregiver. I was standing by as others did the caregiving while I did the handholding and hollow cheerleading. "Come on Mom, looking how you are fighting that infection" became "Are you comfortable, Mom? Won't you try to eat a little more strawberry yogurt?"
I guess I could say I was in the stage of caregiving that I had been dreading for 26 months, but knew I would someday face.
I can also say that being able to use mindfulness techniques, to sit with my emotions and not have to run away from them, to be able to be wholly present with her, was a what helped me to get through what was, in the end, could have been a traumatic experience. Death is primitive, regardless of the circumstances. The pain hasn't gone away, but I am demanding that it go away. I feel my pain, and I feel the pain of others who are suffering a great loss.
I discovered a whole group of individuals who have also lost their parents. They have reached out to help if I need them.
And I have become that much more sensitive to what my clients are going through as they face the challenges of caregiving and loss. I hope that my experience will help me to be that much more present with them.
Thanks, Mom.
I had wanted to chronicle what was going on in my life as I was was being her caregiver. But by the time I started the blog, she was in that stage where she was declining so rapidly that the blog really became more about watching her move toward death, and being her companion on that journey, than it was about being a caregiver. I was standing by as others did the caregiving while I did the handholding and hollow cheerleading. "Come on Mom, looking how you are fighting that infection" became "Are you comfortable, Mom? Won't you try to eat a little more strawberry yogurt?"
I guess I could say I was in the stage of caregiving that I had been dreading for 26 months, but knew I would someday face.
I can also say that being able to use mindfulness techniques, to sit with my emotions and not have to run away from them, to be able to be wholly present with her, was a what helped me to get through what was, in the end, could have been a traumatic experience. Death is primitive, regardless of the circumstances. The pain hasn't gone away, but I am demanding that it go away. I feel my pain, and I feel the pain of others who are suffering a great loss.
I discovered a whole group of individuals who have also lost their parents. They have reached out to help if I need them.
And I have become that much more sensitive to what my clients are going through as they face the challenges of caregiving and loss. I hope that my experience will help me to be that much more present with them.
Thanks, Mom.
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