Aren't We All Caregivers?
I recently had a revelation of sorts. I was a guest on a podcast called Hope for the Caregiver. The host, Peter Rosenberger, described his show as being for all kinds of caregivers whether they were caring for an elderly parent or an adult or child who may have a mental or physical infirmity. But shouldn’t we extend it even further. Isn’t a caregiver anyone who gives or provides care? In which case, doesn’t it also make sense to define a caregiver as someone who may have provided care to any other person past or present. (Once a caregiver, always a caregiver. ) The gifts you derive—and I’m convinced they are gifts—stay with you your entire lifetime and the caregiving recipients. And while not all caregivers realize it at the time, there is reciprocity in the caregiving relationship—caregivers get much out of it despite the stresses and yes, sometimes, burdens of it.
Which is why, even if I could, I wouldn’t change moving in with my mother for six years. I regard that time as a blessing. Moreover, couldn’t it be said that all parents who raise their kids are caregivers?
Looking back on my intensive mommying years, I’ve always felt that I was more suited for motherhood then almost any other role or job I’ve had even though, except for their very-youngest years, I never was a full-time mom. I was either writing or had a job-job. But did I stop being their caregiver each time I left for work? Of course not. And the same holds true for any kind of caregiver.
When my first parenting book came out, journalists referred to me as a parenting expert. But here’s the thing: wasn’t it more accurate to say I was a caregiving expert? And aren’t most of us—or were, at some time— caregivers to someone? The impulse to give and the need to feel needed are universal ones. Yes, there are people who are heartless or selfish or whose problems are so large that they don’t have any more room in their emotional tool kit to serve in the function of caregiver. (And maybe we should start capitalizing the word Caregiver whenever we use it to give those who do it the respect and admiration they deserve?) And for those of us who are loving and empathetic and also may believe we are sort-of within the range of normal delusional when it comes to our own mental state, didn’t we accept all the caring and duties that came with the territory ( Including helping mom or dad get their rumps on the toilet seat hump.)
In my case, being a mom suited me, But it wouldn’t have suited me if it meant I would have that role to the exclusion of all other things. And which is why caregivers need others to help them.
Maybe I will start a campaign to capitalize the word caregiver. That should give me something to do if I ever have an idle minute. Better yet, I’ll start a movement!
The vast majority of my motherhood years when my children were in the house, I really enjoyed motherhood even with the ups and downs (and what mother doesn’t have ups and downs.?) And caregiving my mother for six years and moving in with her was satisfying in so many ways in terms of personal growth, in terms of my understanding of what it is like to age, in my understanding better who my mother was as a person, and understanding the amount of effort it takes to try to maintain one’s dignity. I choose humor as my venue because life can be extraordinarily stressful and I think because anxiety has been a companion for my adult life and probably through my childhood although I didn’t see it as such then. So hop aboard with me and I promise my next blog will be funny. But that’s another story.