The Reluctant Caregiver

In my class on caregiving I always say, "Don't let anyone saint you." That means: do not take it when anyone says of your caregiving role that, "You must be a saint." The reason is, that as soon as you have accepted that intended compliment you are now prohibited from saying just how hard it is to be a caregiver. How will you follow "You are a saint" with "I hate this"?

Here's someone else writing about the pain of caregiving and the reluctant caregiver--of which there are many. In this story it's a woman caring for a mother-in-law but often its someone caring for their parent or even their own spouse. No, it's not a made-for-TV-movie where everyone finds caregiving heartwarming and rewarding.

Take a look at this short article. And know you are not alone:

http://newoldage.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/02/20/the-reluctant-caregiver/?smid=pl-share

Keeping Secrets

In Alcoholics Anonymous we hear, “You are only as sick as your secrets.” The French say, “Nothing is so burdensome as a secret.” My daily meditation book says, “Secrets are a quiet cancer that eats away at our souls.”

That cancer word jumps off the page. I have known the cost of secrets in my life. There were many secrets I kept from others over the years and saw the cost to relationships. I also endured the damage of keeping my family’s secrets: my mother’s addiction, my father’s shame.

But today I know that the most damaging –and most frightening--secrets are the secrets I keep from myself. I worry now, maybe too much, but I fear this: am I telling myself the truth. Am I hiding my real feelings? Not just from John but from me. That’s the big danger.

I have decisions to make. Will I accept the fellowship that means a month away? Will I continue on in my graduate program? If I do is it because I really want these things or is it because other people think I should? If I don’t is it because of John’s cancer or because I am afraid to be away from him now? Am I giving up a part of me that matters or am I grateful for the excuse to give it up? The outsides may look the same but knowing what I really want and need --and telling my self the truth –matters.

Another secret I sit with: I miss my husband. What does that mean? Can I stand to feel that all the way through me? It feels sad and dangerous to allow myself that truth. But I also know that if I shrink from at least telling myself that truth I’ll be in more trouble later. Can I separate admitting that truth from acting on that truth? How will I know?