A number of comments lately have mentioned or alluded to the hope of gaining something spiritually from the experience of caregiving. That idea always resonates with me, and I'd like to explore it a little more.
I've been a caregiver in a number of different situations - for a lover, two close friends, two siblings, and a parent. I have found deep satisfaction in all of those situations, EXCEPT for the most part in caring for my mother.
I think for many people, illness and dependency strips away artifice, and allow a person to allow himself/herself to be unusually vulnerable. For the caregiver, it allows you to connect very deeply with the person, to tend to their needs, shield their vulnerabilities, and soothe their pain and their fear. Being chosen by someone when they're most vulnerable and in need feels like a great honor, and being with them in their time of need feels like an amazing privilege. I cherish the memories I have, of a dear friend allowing me to shower her when she was disabled after surgery on her shoulder, of my sister calling me with the flu and saying right out "I need help. Will you help me?" I remember washing another friend's hair in her hospital bed when she was laid up from surgery. These are not interactions that we normally don't experience in everyday life, and they're very special.
Then there's my mother. I find it impossible to get much satisfaction out of helping her, and I think it's because of her overwhelming sense of entitlement and her need to control everything. I don't think she lets herself be vulnerable except as a manipulation, when she can't get away with outright demanding something. I think she can't stand to think of herself as needy (or think of anyone else as having any autonomy or choice), so she presents her needs as demands and expectation, and it's impossible to feel good about meeting them.
I keep thinking back to something the author M. Scott Peck said, about how love is the willingness to extend oneself for one's own or another person's spiritual growth. He also said that a loving person must be careful not to waste their love on those who are capable of benefitting spiritually. That's the situation I feel I'm in with my mother - wasting my love on someone who is incapable of benefitting spiritually. I can satisfy her material needs, but that doesn't satisfy me in any way. I want that deep closeness, that connection, and I think it's like electricity. Unless there's a complete circuit, it won't flow at all. That's my love for my mother, stopped at the source.
Sorry for the rambling. Maybe enough to spur others of you to share your thoughts?
We are often asked here on the group that if things are not good, why don't we just leave. That is a very hard question for me to answer, mainly because I don't know. Sometimes there comes moments of clarity that let us know things about others and ourselves. The other morning I woke up and realized that I didn't leave because I am a responsible person who thinks of how my reactions will affect others around me. It was as simple as that. Realizing that was enlightening for some reason, since I had been feeling like something must be wrong with me for not leaving.
I know my mother well. I know that if I were to get pulverized by a truck in an accident, her thought would be who was going to buy groceries for her now. I don't seek love in a place where there is none. However, I am not that person. Will I miss her when she is gone? Probably not, because no bond ever formed between us. While she is here I will do the best I can to keep her semi-comfortable only if it is because I am responsible.
I could write a whole book on this, getting a lot deeper, but I think I'll leave it alone and let other people write things. It is hard to put things in words. It's a bit like trying to explain how something looks, tastes, or smells. We can experience things, but not be able to explain the feeling. I like those moments of clarity when the feelings put themselves into something that can be put in simple words.
When we care for someone who has never been able to show appreciation, like you or Jessie, or someone like my mother whose dementia has stolen her ability to see the world outside herself, it is harder to know if there is any value to what we do. I've often lamented that even a newborn can smile with happiness, a dog will wag it's tail or a cat will purr, but my mother gives absolutely no feedback no matter what I do, so how do I know I am doing the right things?
So why do I do it? I look back at my life and I can clearly see the building blocks that gave me the ability to take on this role. I look at my mother as she once was and I know without question that I would never have abandoned that woman, so I continue to honour the mother, the woman, she used to be. And I hope that wherever the future takes me I will be able to look back at this time in my life as another building block that has helped me to grow into the person I need to be.
This is a topic about which I need to think so that I can offer comments as eloquent as CW and Jessie.
Back later when my brain is functioning more clearly.
Having said that, there's an opportunity cost, in terms of not being available for other, more important, life experiences. I was able to be with my sister when she died, because my sister lived only a few blocks away from my mother. But, a few years ago, an old friend of mine died in New York while I was stuck in Florida with my mother, and I wasn't able to be there for her at all or even say goodbye to her. I feel such deep regret about that. I'm sure my mother's confident that she is and should be top priority, but she's not. The fact that caregiving for my mother not only has no meaning for me but deprives me of experiences that would have great meaning, that's really hard to take.
I think it is also as CWillie says, "I think it is hard to feel positive about the caregiver role if you never get any affirmative feedback".
Also Cwillie makes a good point in allowing things to "be" rather than rationalizing the arguments relating to caregiving value. For example, she mentions how dementia has stolen her mother's ability to see the world outside herself.
To be honest, I believe we are never prepared enough - not to the degree in which we often find ourselves weighing the merit of our contribution. Because, as a caregiver if you have no experience in this role to a tough degree, it is hard to imagine the depth at which we struggle to challenge ourselves for answers. In other words, we have to go through it to go through it. While many books offer some insight, I think it is impossible to know all the situations particular to each person. All of us have different coping skills and varied relationship experiences. I am not totally the person I want to become, so throw that into the mix and it's a tough grind. Maybe that is the lesson. I have no clue.
I do know that I ended up asking myself a lot of questions I may not have vexed myself with before. Deep spiritual questions about consistency, showing up every day, spirituality and getting to know myself above all else. It has been a sort of maturation into myself and applying these lessons (after I fight them!) to become closer to what I want to develop into.
I feel damned if I do or don't when I have to choose between my kids and my parents. Especially around the holidays. It can drop me to bended knee asking what is the best course of action. Divorce can make relationships with our children tought, too so it is not like I am always chosing the best as it were...and then the parents negativity and deep isolation I find myself u against in trying to get them to connect is equally as rough. If I were to be honest, I would say I want to go out to see the northern lights in a freakin teepee in Canada after dog sledding all day and drinking hot cocoa. That is what I would do if I could. But I have to choose and neither feel so hot right now. But the relationships with these people are not what I had hoped and I want to pick the next thing I would or might enjoy - which is what I just shared.
The net effect is knowing what I might like to do one day and can do one day - its planning for things - which I had not really done much of before. And since those relationships are not so good, I can commit to doing the alone if need be.
I would consider this part of spirituality. To myself and how I want to live better in my head and dreams. For a long time even thinking about such folly was off the menu. I am reintroducing the notion that I don't have to live this way forever and that if they should pass before I do, I will know I did the best I could in that moment with what I had. I know there are ties I am heart weary and depressed and I cannot drive myself to be more for the - but I am human and I hurt when they hurt. I know their dreams are tings they seem to have given up on. I cannot rouse them to dream or hope again though I have tried. LIving this with them is hard.
I don't have the answers. Maybe hope and faith is enough. And to live this moment as best I can and not pin it all on SOME DAY because today has got to be good enough. Anything can happen tomorrow.
Grace + Peace,
Bob
And when I have these feelings I look at him and say ,God bless him, so I pretty much am saying it all day, then sometimes at the end I say and God help me.......and He does and we go on and do the Right Thing
I would confess my anger and feelings to my priest until finally he recommended a book "Toxic Parents" - which was an eye opener and a life line. Hurrah for "spiritual" advise! Now I set boundaries. They hate it, they fight it, but they are the angry ones, not me. I do what I want to do with love, and no to the rest. It is not my problem that they didn't plan for their elder years and thought I would be an open checking account for trips to the casino, rent, etc.
Perhaps if either was the cute, clean, cheerful grandparent in a Norman Rockwell painting - I might feel differently. Not a spiritual, love humanity, good in everyone post, but I just got back from five days of Christmas with them. Holidays bring out the emotion and they replay to me every thing I have done to let them down.
I do have to respond to a few of the comments, to set the record straight. As to what Ferris1 said, my mother is well aware how I feel. I'm not one to go around with a fake smile and pretend everything is peachy keen. She knows I don't want to take care of her and I devote as little time to it as possible. It doesn't help me to express that to her, and her reaction (indignation and resentment) doesn't help me either. I don't post here because I'm so pent up that I need to vent to total strangers. I post here because the members of this forum are other caregivers, many of whom are in similar situations, and I get understanding and support from them. That's the key thing, not merely the opportunity to vent. The "total strangers" here know me and understand me a lot better than my mother does, or wants to. That's why I talk to them.
As for all the "love your neighbor" advice, I realize I opened the door to that when I started talking about spirituality, but I don't buy into it at all. My code of values is very personal, not centered in the Bible or any religion. We all my be equal in the sight of God, but in my sight, absolutely not. It violates my ethics to devote attention and energy on someone whose behavior and attitudes so affront my personal code of values. That's why this obligate caregiving is such a thorny thing for me. I accept that someone has to do it, but I'm tremendously conflicted about the fact that it has to be me.
The sad thing is that during all these years where my mother has been dying, she has not been anywhere near death. I think she is dead inside, though. And I don't think she is a good person. I don't think she feels love for anyone, but feels they should show her complete devotion. She seems to dislike me, but knows she needs me to be her servant. She is still dying every day all day long, but I don't know if it will be another year or another 10 years. She doesn't seem to get any gratification from being sick all the time except that no one expects her to do anything. Of course, I can't say anything because I'm terrible if I do. She is my mother, you know.
I really can't believe that she and I are related. If we chose a life before we are born for some reason, I can't imagine why I might have chosen this life.
This is where caregiving keeps bringing me. And I keep not being as perfect and loving and compassionate as I want to be - or as I sometimes tell myself I 'really' am. I too often snap at Mom when she once again has taken off her Depends and not replaced them, resulting in a cleanup. Or when she keeps telling me (for the 10th time) that she can do something herself that I know she can no longer do, while I stand by with a workable solution and a growing head of frustration. But that is not my Best Self. That is my Teacher Self who often seems like a twisted, evil twin, but who is in reality showing me where my next step toward spiritual growth lies -- in developing patience as evidenced in controlling my temper and my tongue, which can be cruel.
There is also a highly broken and dysfunctional brother-in-law living with us and he is even more of a spiritual teacher when I allow it. I have had several months of hard-heartedness toward him and am just now beginning to be willing to try to be kind and compassionate with him, at the same time as I set clear boundaries.
In fact, he has led me to distinguish a couple of terms. When he demands or "takes" care, he is a care taker -- which is based in entitlement. It makes it harder for me to be a care giver -- freely offering help with a loving heart. But that is what I want to be -- a care giver with healthy boundaries. Tough combo to bring about.
My Mom is, at least, a "care receiver/allower" most of the time, appreciating what I do and not expecting much, which leaves me freedom to 'surprise and delight' rather than trying to keep up.
Both of them have helped me see myself more clearly as someone whose self-centeredness is still strong and whose compassion needs to grow a lot. I don't yet know how that squares with my equally strong understanding that God has a life for me that includes more adventure, learning, and interest beyond just this. But I have chosen to trust that whatever I am learning now is a necessary foundation for being the person I want to be in whatever post-caregiving life may await me.
My folks are still pretty sweet people but it's all still a major pain in the *ss. I'm the last one on earth left to deal with them and I resent that fact and don't like it one bit but there's that obligation thing like the 800 pound gorilla in the room.
Native American Ten Commandments
1. The Earth is our Mother, care for her.
2. Honor all your relations.
3. Open your heart and soul the the Great Spirit.
4. All life is sacred, treat all beings with respect.
5. Take from the Earth what is needed and nothing more.
6. Do what needs to be done for the good of the all.
7. Give constant thanks to the Great Spirit for each new day.
8. Speak the truth: but only of the good in others.
9. Follow the rhythms of nature: rise and retire with the sun.
10. Enjoy life's journey but leave no tracks.