“When will I see you again?” my Grandma Gladys would often ask as I was getting ready to leave. Instead of giving her a time and date I would answer with, “Well you know I’m awfully busy at college.” Part of that answer came out of frustration that my current visit didn’t seem to count. The other part was sheer ego. I wanted her to know that I was important and had a life. I rarely felt good after a visit that ended like that.
Was I doing enough? Could I have visited her more? I loved my grandma dearly, but had a lot of guilt about not doing “enough” for her. It’s hard to say what is enough and feeling of guilt only fuel your uncertainty. The third letter in my S.A.N.E. Method™—N is for Not Guilty. “Not Enough” thinking is guilt trying to get the best of you. Here are a few things I do when I’m feeling guilty:
1. Put yourself in a rational state of mind. (You may have to do math problems to move your brain from an emotional to a logical place. Try it. It works!)
2. In that logical state, write down all that you do for your loved one. (Make no judgments as you write.)
3. Stay in that unemotional place and look at your list.
4. Ask yourself, “Could I do more? What would I do? How would it affect my life?”
5. If it makes sense to do more, add in the time. If it doesn’t, look at your list again, but this time with a sense of gratitude for the time and energy you give.
Guilt will be a constant companion on our journeys as a caregiver, but you’re in control, even though you may not always feel that way; I get it. Sometimes doing less is better for both you and your loved one.
Shame is described as a painful feeling that we are somehow flawed and unworthy of being loved. It can be triggered by our own unhealthy mind chatter or when someone says something nasty to us, and we take it in as truth.
We attach shame to situations and diseases, as if it was our inadequacy, or wrong doing, that caused these events to come about. We believe that we failed to “keep ourselves healthy,” or “do the right thing,” and so in turn, so “made” ourselves sick.
Lori La Bey of Alzheimer’s Speaks and I had a conversation about the shame that comes in the caregiving journey when one has Alzheimer’s disease or another disease that causes dementia.
Please listen and share. The more we talk about this, the less power it has in our minds and in our hearts.
I think most of us have heard about the fable of the boiling frog: If you drop a live frog into boiling water it will jump out. But placing a frog into tepid water and slowly increasing the water temperature, and the frog perceives no danger and is slowly cooked to death.
This is often a fitting metaphor of what happens as we start down the caregiving path. We can’t imagine putting an adult diaper on our husband, but incontinence creeps up and soon we find ourselves searching YouTube videos on how to change adult depends. Incrementally, the barriers are being broken down, and what we once said, “I draw the line at,” we find ourselves doing. We never dream we’d be cutting up our loved one’s food, let alone feeding them.
The truth is, much like the frog in the fable, these changes don’t all-of-a-sudden happen. Over time, we adapt to many changes and we enter into a series of “new normals.” What once was unthinkable has now become “just how it is.”
At the same time we are adjusting to the new normal, our stress levels slowly increase. We may be eating more often and less healthy food, exercising less in favor of another hour of sitting in front of the tube. We stop dining out because it’s embarrassing or just too difficult. We don’t invite friends to visit and we stop reaching out. Isolation creeps in and we just can’t put a finger on why we’re feeling gloomy.
I wish I had a magic pill I could give to the thousands of family caregivers who are beating themselves up because they feel they need to handle all the care on their own.
This pill would do two things: First, it would engage the left-side or logical side of your brain, sending you the clear message that you are doing everything you can, to the best of your abilities.
The second thing this pill would do is ignite your inner self-worth and trigger the message that self-care is vitally important. How can you be prepared for the emotional toll and strain of witnessing your loved one fade?
Unfortunately, I can’t offer a magic pill, only my encouragement to be both gentle with yourself and to ask for help. You are The Unexpected Caregiver. Learn all that you can, lean on others, and understand that small changes will creep up on you. Be prepared to have someone close to you point out that the time has come for you to seek professional help. Don’t be the frog who unknowingly drowns because it got used to the heat.
Five college students filled my kitchen with laughter and conversation over a leisurely summer breakfast. Only one of them was non-American, the other four were studying at the same college in Minnesota. I asked each of them what they would do if one, or both, of their parents needed care. The non-American, a lovely Russian woman who happens to also be an only child, said she would absolutely live with and care for her parents; “That’s how it’s done and I’m very close to them.” The other four were less certain: Would they have their parents move in with them, or find some type of senior housing? “We haven’t thought of this.” Why would they? They’re 20-something and their parents are “still young.”
I’ve been presenting on the topic of family caregiving and aging for nearly 30 years and still, family caregivers wonder why “no one” is talking about it.
The press reports on the critical need to prepare more people to be caregivers, but the subject of providing care to an elderly loved one remains a subject swept under the carpet, or generally ignored.
Growing older is not a sexy subject and hence, doesn’t get the press it needs. Yet aging happens to all of us. If you don’t like it and try to avoid everything about it, how will you give care to an older parent?
You have to love your own aging self in order to be loving towards an older adult. It’s way past time to think about caregiving and aging.
Maybe we need to introduce aging and family caregiving into our public school system. Without some major change, I fear the impending silver tsunami will drown us all.