Who Cares for the Caregiver

 A common theme in my life has been taking care of others. I learned this lesson at an early age. I was five years old when my brother, David, died. He was 16 and the only biological son of my parents. My sister Anne and I are adopted. 

To this day I have painful memories of my mom sitting on a small love seat they had in their bedroom, with the door not quite closed, watching her cry. She would look out the window, and I can only imagine she was thinking about the day David was born, when he took his first steps, his first day of school, playing basketball, participating in Boy Scouts. Now that was gone. There would be no college graduation, marriage or children, or a life lived. Her son was gone. 

My dad changed from the moment David died. A warm humorous man became distant, removed, and impatient. I don't know how he copied with David's death. He didn't show emotion. He occupied his time with business, golf, fishing, and being busy. He did not help my mom through this, and she was not able to help him.

Watching my mom cry was/is the most painful thing ever to me. I wanted her to be happy. I wanted to be there for her. I wanted to take care of her. Growing up, I put on show after show in our basement to entertain her. I told her the funny things that would happen at school. I was interested in everything she did. I went antiquing with her. I went shopping with her. I would help her get ready for her Thursday bridge group, or a dinner party with the group of friends. No son could have been closer. 

In return, she did her best to take care of me. Life with my dad was painful. I was a constant source of disappointment to him. I was not the scholar(then). I was not the athlete(then). I was not David. In hindsight I understand my dad could not handle the death, so he closed off anything or anyone who reminded him of the happy life he had before. 

As a result, my mom had to speak for me many times. She had to run interference for me many times. She had to take his disappoint for me many times. She  was in the middle, which I am sure she didn't like, I know he hated it, and I knew no better. I heard their arguments about me over the years, and it was painful.

Losing her in 1997 meant no one would be between dad and me. Sadly, that's not entirely true. To a certain extent my sister took that role. It's not a role she should have had to take. I should have been better at taking care of myself when it came to my dad. I will always feel badly she took on that role. 

The dye was cast though in terms of me caring for others. I would form relationships over the years where I had to be the one to look out for someone and make sure they were ok. I was attracted to those who needed someone. The problem is, once you are in that role, you are alone, especially if they are not equipped to return the care. 

My husband Mark has never had it easy. Many traumas, seizures, illness have taken a toll on him. They have taken a toll on me. We have argued, been through tremendously difficult times, and have led separate lives. I won't discuss the details of everything we have been through, but it has always been challenging. I have loved him for almost 17 years. 

What happens though when it all comes down on you? What happens when there is only so much care you can give, and you wonder when is someone going to take care of you? I am 61. I have heart issues, diabetes, arthritis, and a lot of sadness about my life. I want this next stage of my life to be a happy one. I want it to be one of not worrying how to take care of everyone, and it still not be enough. I want to rest. 

Mark and I talk a lot about our marriage, and what will happen. I am not going to discuss what we talk about, but we both want to be happy. It's just a question of what that looks like. Who takes care of the care giver, when you are suffering yourself, or going through your own thing?

In the last few years, I have distanced myself from many friends, because the pain of what I have gone through has been too much. I have nothing to give others. I'm amazed I have something to give my students everyday. I have lost some friends. I have not spoken to many people. It hasn't meant I don't care, or I am not interested, but I had to take care of my. I am the one who has to be taking care of this care giver. It isn't anyone else's job to do it. I have found that I have to dig deep, and realize I am worth taking care of myself. I am valuable, and I have to love myself to take care of me. 

I can find people to help me in this, but in the end, I have to take care of me. To those people I have hurt, I am sorry if my journey has meant I stepped back. I am aware how you feel, and I hope one day we can rebuild those relationships. I could not involve people in what I have been going through. 

As I sit here at the monastery reflecting and meditating, I hope to see a path forward, and go towards that path.