Sharing the love over the holidays

The holidays are a time for togetherness, to share the pleasures of family. They are also a bittersweet time because, in the midst of that togetherness, we are also faced with change. Unfortunately, change includes the inevitable decline and losses of old age. That's just part of life.

The decline that older family members are experiencing can be especially obvious during holiday events. Maybe the aren't moving so well, or aren't as focused, or are showing other impairments. If you haven't seen them for a long period of time, this can be especially disconcerting. It is only human nature to be tempted to dwell on what used to be, and to be filled with sadness and regret. No one wants to be reminded that old age is often accompanied by decline, and that the circle will not be unbroken.

But the holidays are also a time to remember! Past holidays, memories of good deeds and kind words, shared joys and shared sadness. The little and the big things that make up relationships.

Holiday events are a great time to reminisce about the past. And older people often have vivid memories of these shared events, even if they aren't always so good about remembering what they might have done the day before. This is how the human brain works.

Over the holidays, sit down with your older family member and share the memories. Conversations starters might include:

"Remember the time…"

"What was it like when…"

"Tell me a story about…"

Or even…

"Thank you so much for the time…"

Who knows, you might learn something new. And chances are, your older loved one will fill you in a few details that have slipped your mind.

And if they have forgotten, then it's your turn to tell a story. Fill them in on a time that you shared together. Remind them of what they have meant to you.

Holidays are for sharing the present, the past, and building bridges into the future.

Share the love!

Giving, giving, gone?

The holidays are a time of giving to others and that can be a beautiful thing. But to someone involved in being a caregiver, the holidays can add an additional burden that can make the holidays feel like one big burden. If you are a caregiver, you are most likely trying to balance your caregiving responsibilities with the other obligations that arise during this time of year. You may be doing your own shopping while also shopping for the person you care for, wrapping their gifts as you wrap yours, planning events that may or may not include them. The pressure to keep up your own personal traditions, and to please the people who rely on you, while also keeping up traditions for the person you care for can be draining. I know, I have been there. And so have many of my clients. I would encourage to give up the need to be super________ (woman, man, adult child, partner, etc.) Decide what you can reasonably do for the people in your life and what you can't do. Enlist help. Say no to a few events, or go but buy a pie instead of showing off your baking skills. Also, be honest with the person you are caring for. Let them know what you want to do and can do, and also what you want to do but can't do.

Build in some "me" time -- now wouldn't that be a perfect gift?

Remind yourself that you are doing the best you can. Giving until you are angry, frustrated, emotionally and physically depleted... that isn't going to help anyone.

Take time to rest, meditate, get reconnected with your own inner core. You can only do what you can do.

Take a break, even for a minute or two

I know you think you have to present every second, that if you lower your guard for the briefest of moments, something bad might happen. And it would your fault, or so it seems like. And what if a tear needed to be wiped away, as a moment of sadness or loneliness passed, and you weren't there to make everything better, or at least try to.

At some point, even you are going to have to admit that you might have human qualities. Maybe you aren't a saint, at least not 24/7.

Take a break. Leave the room for a few minutes. Take a walk, even if it is out to the parking lot and back, or even down the hall. Find out where the soda machines are even though you already know. After all, they might have moved over that last day or two. Call a friend, call your answering machine, call the number for the time and weather even though you can see the time on your cell phone and you already know it is cold outside.

Take a break. Breathe. Let yourself be human.

All together now... breathe

Not sure how you can help? You can be a support to someone by simply breathing with them. Literally.

Sit near the person you are caring for and watch them breathe. Try to breathe in rhythm with them -- inhale when they inhale, exhale when they exhale.

As you inhale, imagine that you are suffering along with them. Feel their pain, their sadness, their fear. Really be with them.

As you exhale, imagine that you are breathing out love and compassion, for your loved one, for yourself, for everyone else in the world who is suffering.

Feel youself letting go of the helplessness and accepting what is, all wrapped up in loving kindness.

This is a powerful way to join together when words and actions are not enough. When you are away from each other, you can imagine that you are breathing together and achieve the same results.

Dancing around that feeling of rawness... or trying to

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.

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.

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.