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?
I am aware that my comments: monster, mean, difficult and not loving are negative; but my siblings would verify that. I love my Mom inspite of those things. She was the youngest of 9 children, I'm the oldest of 5...
God had listened to my pleas in every way. I begged that she passes on in her sleep without pain or struggle. She did. I didn't want to be there. I wasn't. I was with two best friends in Maine. As soon as my sister called I let out a wail of sorrow, shock, and pain, but I also felt God's presence in the two friends who stood there, outside giving me long tender hugs. One was going to leave from our visit and I was praying he'd stay a day longer. His car had a problem and he had to get it fixed and had to stay a day longer. It just happens it happens just so God's handwriting was all over it embellished with his smile and the peace Mom and I felt inside.
Now it's just about a week later. I am rapidly returning to my happy self. I did the best I could. Mom was the best she could be. And the service the Indep Living place gave was amazing. I orchestrated it with the two weeping managers who adored my mother. I bought a bright variety of flowers and colors and we put little stages of things about my Mom. Over 50 residents and other locals came and all were weeping and storytelling, hugging and sharing how my mother made them laugh, touched their hearts, inspired them, amazed them with her feisty, funny, annoying, aggressively friendly, no boundaries manners! It was a most healing time! Only two local cousins of mine, on my father's side of the family, attended. My brother didn't think it was worth coming to! My sister is in Fl.
My Dad is tottering in a home in CT with Dementia.
I have survived the caregiving roller coaster ride after all, with my love for my mother intact underneath all the turmoil that churned up in me. God lifted us both up.
I was spared the task of having to care for either of my parents. My mother once said to me "your will be sorry when I am gone" Well I was not and almost 40 yrs later I am still not.
Spirituality religious or not is still a mystery. To me I was able to connect to some people who were dying but not others. It was like the electricity that someone mentioned.
I hate to say this but some of the ministers who visited at or before the death did not seem to be very spiritual. Several seemed just to be there to make the sure the memorial donations were all directed towards their ministries even though the patient may have other wishes.
Since I was become less able to care for myself I have been astonished and very grateful for the care of strangers. Those that open doors, offer to carry groceries or reach items on high shelves. I have always been very independent and try to tackle things for myself so it is hard to accept this help but always make the effort to smile and say 'thank you" There really are lots of good people in this world.
Spirtiuality comes from within as does love, neither can be faked. It is still possible to respect the elders and take good care but it is important to respect our true feelings.
There is something about using your own agency to bring a little good into the world, that is lost when your services are expected and demanded. It is my mother's denial of my agency, rather than her lack of appreciation, that makes it so difficult to do for her, and so unpleasant. It's her "I need to stop at the liquor store." rather than "Would you mind stopping at the liquor store?" that makes helping her a totally different (and noxious) experience for me.