Wednesday, July 21, 2004
"Sorry, no matches were found containing 'trapped'."
In the previous week someone performed a search on Mom & Me One Archived for the word "trapped". This piqued my curiosity. Had I, at some time in the years that I've been writing about my odyssey with my mother in her Ancient One years, ever mentioned that I feel "trapped"? I didn't think so but I searched all the areas to which I have search engines attached. No, I've never used that word to any purpose.
I know that at times I've felt desperate. I believe I've mentioned this, most often before I realized that I was going through menopause and needed some supplementation to control the physical and emotional extremes engendered by the hormonal changes, my responses to which I inherited from my father's extremely volatile side of the family. Once I started supplementing, though, I calmed down quite a bit. Now, some years later, I am almost through menopause and almost completely off herbal supplementation.
The reasons I haven't felt "trapped" by this situation aren't because I am some kind of caregiving saint. Firstly, it isn't in my nature to feel "trapped". I can't remember ever feeling this way in any phase of my life even when I haven't been particularly thrilled with my circumstances. Secondly, I chose what I'm doing, now. It took me a good six months to decide to do this once my mother asked me. I've always been quite independent and I seriously considered not doing this. Thirdly, my mother and I began this journey long before she needed the intensity of caregiving she now requires. I had some years to work into our current circumstances. So did she. She is, as well, an independent woman. Whether by accident or by design (I honestly don't know which, so I tend to call it "luck") we began our journey early enough so that we would both find it easier to make the necessary adjustments as caregiving intensified.
Not everyone is suited to caregiving. For decades I didn't think I was, or to nurturing behavior of any kind. During those years I was right. My enduring decision, made at the age of 13 or so, that I would never be married and never have children was exactly the right decision for me while I lived from that decision. This is why it took me six months of serious consideration to decide to do what I'm now doing. At the time I made the decision I had no idea I would become as involved in caregiving as I am. If I had been able to look into the future I probably would have felt much as "Mermaid" feels: That there are professional agencies and people who are better suited to this sort of thing that I am. Had I made that decision, of course, I would have been basing it on ignorance and would have been in error. I know, though, in retrospect, that if I'd looked ahead at that time the glimpse would have scared the bejesus out of me and I would have run the other way. No one is more surprised than I am that I'm able to do this.
The only aspect of my reactions to this kind of caregiving that doesn't surprise me is that I am not always confident of the "rightness" of this situation for either my mother or me. If you've been following this with some regularity you know that recently I've been wondering if my mother needs more "people" stimulation than I'm capable of providing. I wonder if it would be best if she was with another branch of the family that includes more than one stem in the same home besides her. I still haven't determined whether this is a good idea. My mother doesn't think so (yes, I always discuss my doubts with her). At times neither do I. It's easy, though, when one is used to a situation to think that changes are neither necessary nor desirable.
Three years ago when I was deeply involved with someone I seriously considered leaving my caregiving circumstances to embark on a shared life with that man. I began making plans to turn my mother's care over to another branch of the family. I wasn't the one who backed out of these plans. The man was. I'm now glad this happened. The intervening years have been highlighted by an accelerated spiral in my mother's needs and I'm pleased I've been here to attend to that spiral.
The thing about caregiving is, you can only give care out of who you are, whether you are doing so in what the caregiving industry refers to as an "informal" setting such as I am or you are doing it in a professional capacity. It is impossible, when giving care, whether 24/7 for free or eight to twelve hour shifts for pay, not to be swayed by your relationship history with the person for whom you are caring and by relationships similar to the one in which you are involved in a caregiving capacity. If you think that the quality of care given by health care professionals in, say, a nursing home isn't influenced by the quality of that professional's relationships with their parents and other Ancient and Infirm Ones with whom they've had avocational contact throughout their lives, you're seriously off base; dangerously so if you're committing to professionals the care of someone with whom you have a bond. This is why I am adamant that any changes that take place in this country in regards to caring for those who need care, including our children, have to begin with a fundamental shift in how we perceive and perform caregiving within our homes and communities.
One of the shifts that needs to take place is in our fundamental sympathy with the caregivers in our communities. I can tell you that I often feel the insinuating heat from others (primarily, at this time, women) whose underlying attitude toward me is, "Ha! See? You thought by not getting married or having kids you'd escape the caregiving prison. You had another thing coming, didn't you?!? Me? Help you? I'm too busy giving care to my own people, care, by the way, I never should have been asked to give. Nah, I'm going to let you stew, just like me. Maybe then you'll learn your lesson. There's no escape."
See, the other thing about caregiving is, there is a "way out". We need to attend to the fundamental attitudes within our society that allow caregiving to feel like a prison to the many people, primarily women within the Northern European influenced culture in our country who look to create a caring family but find themselves mired in the impossible situation of being the only true caregiver to those for whom they care. Although it sounds simplistic, it's still true: We need to step out of the nuclear zone and step toward the compounded substance zone, all the while weighing the advantages and disadvantages each approach has to offer. At this time, this country is a good experimental laboratory for this possibility. We are becoming more and more influenced by the more inclusive definitions of family and community inherent in a variety of other cultures making their weight felt upon what has been, for decades, the prevailing United States family/community culture. I have high hopes.
In the meantime, I also have high spirits most of the time. When I have low spirits you'll know but I don't think you'll ever hear me say that I believe I am "trapped". Feeling trapped is simply not a part of my nature. This is not to say that feeling trapped is not legitimate for others. It just isn't legitimate for me. Believe me, there isn'at a day that goes by in which I don't pause at some point and thank my "lucky stars" that my nature discludes the awareness of traps. I figure, as long as I don't consider that I'm in a trap, I don't have to wonder how to get out.
I know that at times I've felt desperate. I believe I've mentioned this, most often before I realized that I was going through menopause and needed some supplementation to control the physical and emotional extremes engendered by the hormonal changes, my responses to which I inherited from my father's extremely volatile side of the family. Once I started supplementing, though, I calmed down quite a bit. Now, some years later, I am almost through menopause and almost completely off herbal supplementation.
The reasons I haven't felt "trapped" by this situation aren't because I am some kind of caregiving saint. Firstly, it isn't in my nature to feel "trapped". I can't remember ever feeling this way in any phase of my life even when I haven't been particularly thrilled with my circumstances. Secondly, I chose what I'm doing, now. It took me a good six months to decide to do this once my mother asked me. I've always been quite independent and I seriously considered not doing this. Thirdly, my mother and I began this journey long before she needed the intensity of caregiving she now requires. I had some years to work into our current circumstances. So did she. She is, as well, an independent woman. Whether by accident or by design (I honestly don't know which, so I tend to call it "luck") we began our journey early enough so that we would both find it easier to make the necessary adjustments as caregiving intensified.
Not everyone is suited to caregiving. For decades I didn't think I was, or to nurturing behavior of any kind. During those years I was right. My enduring decision, made at the age of 13 or so, that I would never be married and never have children was exactly the right decision for me while I lived from that decision. This is why it took me six months of serious consideration to decide to do what I'm now doing. At the time I made the decision I had no idea I would become as involved in caregiving as I am. If I had been able to look into the future I probably would have felt much as "Mermaid" feels: That there are professional agencies and people who are better suited to this sort of thing that I am. Had I made that decision, of course, I would have been basing it on ignorance and would have been in error. I know, though, in retrospect, that if I'd looked ahead at that time the glimpse would have scared the bejesus out of me and I would have run the other way. No one is more surprised than I am that I'm able to do this.
The only aspect of my reactions to this kind of caregiving that doesn't surprise me is that I am not always confident of the "rightness" of this situation for either my mother or me. If you've been following this with some regularity you know that recently I've been wondering if my mother needs more "people" stimulation than I'm capable of providing. I wonder if it would be best if she was with another branch of the family that includes more than one stem in the same home besides her. I still haven't determined whether this is a good idea. My mother doesn't think so (yes, I always discuss my doubts with her). At times neither do I. It's easy, though, when one is used to a situation to think that changes are neither necessary nor desirable.
Three years ago when I was deeply involved with someone I seriously considered leaving my caregiving circumstances to embark on a shared life with that man. I began making plans to turn my mother's care over to another branch of the family. I wasn't the one who backed out of these plans. The man was. I'm now glad this happened. The intervening years have been highlighted by an accelerated spiral in my mother's needs and I'm pleased I've been here to attend to that spiral.
The thing about caregiving is, you can only give care out of who you are, whether you are doing so in what the caregiving industry refers to as an "informal" setting such as I am or you are doing it in a professional capacity. It is impossible, when giving care, whether 24/7 for free or eight to twelve hour shifts for pay, not to be swayed by your relationship history with the person for whom you are caring and by relationships similar to the one in which you are involved in a caregiving capacity. If you think that the quality of care given by health care professionals in, say, a nursing home isn't influenced by the quality of that professional's relationships with their parents and other Ancient and Infirm Ones with whom they've had avocational contact throughout their lives, you're seriously off base; dangerously so if you're committing to professionals the care of someone with whom you have a bond. This is why I am adamant that any changes that take place in this country in regards to caring for those who need care, including our children, have to begin with a fundamental shift in how we perceive and perform caregiving within our homes and communities.
One of the shifts that needs to take place is in our fundamental sympathy with the caregivers in our communities. I can tell you that I often feel the insinuating heat from others (primarily, at this time, women) whose underlying attitude toward me is, "Ha! See? You thought by not getting married or having kids you'd escape the caregiving prison. You had another thing coming, didn't you?!? Me? Help you? I'm too busy giving care to my own people, care, by the way, I never should have been asked to give. Nah, I'm going to let you stew, just like me. Maybe then you'll learn your lesson. There's no escape."
See, the other thing about caregiving is, there is a "way out". We need to attend to the fundamental attitudes within our society that allow caregiving to feel like a prison to the many people, primarily women within the Northern European influenced culture in our country who look to create a caring family but find themselves mired in the impossible situation of being the only true caregiver to those for whom they care. Although it sounds simplistic, it's still true: We need to step out of the nuclear zone and step toward the compounded substance zone, all the while weighing the advantages and disadvantages each approach has to offer. At this time, this country is a good experimental laboratory for this possibility. We are becoming more and more influenced by the more inclusive definitions of family and community inherent in a variety of other cultures making their weight felt upon what has been, for decades, the prevailing United States family/community culture. I have high hopes.
In the meantime, I also have high spirits most of the time. When I have low spirits you'll know but I don't think you'll ever hear me say that I believe I am "trapped". Feeling trapped is simply not a part of my nature. This is not to say that feeling trapped is not legitimate for others. It just isn't legitimate for me. Believe me, there isn'at a day that goes by in which I don't pause at some point and thank my "lucky stars" that my nature discludes the awareness of traps. I figure, as long as I don't consider that I'm in a trap, I don't have to wonder how to get out.
