Tag Archives: Self Reflection

Lesson in Humility

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There are plenty of experiences in caregiving that make you humble. Stretching yourself to meet demands that seem impossible, surprise you by becoming successes much more often than you ever thought possible. With a number of these impossible tasks under your belt, it is entirely conceivable to adopt a been-there-and done-that attitude.

What is the worst they can throw at you for being self-satisfied? Make you work as a caregiver?

Natural Resources

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In studying and applying Science over the years, there are always slight variations to what we call “normal” anatomy. The truth of the matter is that there are no two bodies alike, even though we share a common design and function.

I am discovering the same wisdom about the personalities and behavior of people.

The world reaction to the pandemic has disappointed me in many ways. I once held an optimistic belief that people were commonly capable of responsible behavior under stress. That leaders would step up to take on the challenges facing the group, leave petty politics behind and provide tough leadership in difficult times.

In these times of adversity, a time that demanded a solid “normal” and responsible reaction, people provided actions across the spectrum of emotion. We, as a group, choked in the face of a real threat and redirected attention to theories disguised as political theatre and attacked ourselves. We failed to adequately take care of ourselves and one another.

I am entertaining the idea that there really is no “normal” for reasonable human behavior in difficult times. That the ideals that civilization has recorded and espoused over the millennia are just that. Ideals. Concepts no more sought after than the insincerity of the politician’s position on a topic.

People seem to be more basic than religion and philosophy have led me to believe, but I hope to someday be proven wrong.

Still Learning & Growing

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As “a-ha” moments go, I have been experiencing some doozies lately. The biggest of which has been finding that not all caregiving or caregivers are the same.

Well, yes, we knew that already, Hal.

Okay. Let me explain.

The big discovery for me was not that there were different versions of providing care in the same way as there were different types of recipients of care. A person close to me recently shared what I describe as their lazy approach to caregiving. She spoke of contracting vendors and calling in orders, as opposed to rolling up her sleeves to do any caregiving work – and she was complaining about the difficulty of caregiving work.

Dumbfounded is probably the best description of my reaction. When it comes to caregiving, I am not normally at a loss for words. In this instance, I could/did not respond to this for fear of my anger bubbling to the surface.

This person’s actions may account for the commercialization of caregiving where you pay someone else to do the work for you BUT when you still call yourself the caregiver, I disagree. Caregiving makes us stronger by trying to kill us (or drive us crazy, at the very least). We are scarred by the events, not merely inconvenienced.

Do not get me wrong, there is certainly a need for assistance services like this. Not everyone is up to the physical challenges of providing care. There is however a dishonesty in hiring a subcontractor to do the heavy lifting, only to take credit for their work. Sort of like sharing how you are building a home but hiring architects and contractors to do all the work. If you are not swinging a hammer, you are not building.

With Confidence Come Humility

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COVID has strengthened my ethical standards – A LOT. Then again, maybe my ethics are the same but my willingness to publicly stand with them has increased. I do know I prefer to speak of what I know instead of only what I think should be.

Moral indignation, while incredibly noisy and good for attracting attention to the speaker’s fears, often lacks supporting evidence to go anywhere as an argument. As with the confused communications of adolescence, we need to remember/understand that “No it isn’t” is not an argument – just being argumentative.

Speaking on caregiving derived from firsthand experience has a strength and richness that are sometimes difficult to explain to others. Sometimes it is just the stillness of silently being with someone facing up to the challenges for the first time. Sometimes it is cussing out the vendor or petty bureaucrat (who richly deserves the tirade) because of poorly executing their job.

As caregivers, we advocate. We are the front lines of the battle. Reading about caregiving or hiring caregivers are certainly experiences related to caring for a loved one, but they are not the same.

Raw Nerve

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A caregiving experience is not proprietary but my surprise at my own reaction to someone else passing off their limited care history surprised me. Perhaps I should not be surprised.

I am experienced in caregiving and its aftermath, but I have not cornered the market on all the possibilities. Yes, we share in a number of common events that happen when caring for loved ones but apparently even more events are possible. I was naïve in thinking that someone would misrepresent themselves. Guess I value my caregiving experiences more than I thought.

Color me humbled by not having all the answers. The nature of people these days have been providing me with a Reality Check that I needed. I once had higher expectations of people in general but less so now. With my reasoning and assumptions appropriately updated, this goodly measure of humility has made me sharp.

“Thanks. I needed that.”

“Do actions agree with words? There’s your measure of reliability. Never confine yourself to the words.”
― Frank Herbert

Who Are You Talking To?

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Family relationships come in only one format: complicated.

There are some common themes that we can share amongst ourselves. An unwieldy healthcare system and certain inevitabilities of aging that connect us together. Each relationship still retains a uniqueness that takes us into uncharted psychic and emotional waters.

Real Life 101.

Developing our own balance appears to be our homework assignment in this class. The cool part is that there are really no rules. We can be as efficient or as sloppy as we want. The hard part is that we have to grade ourselves.

We are pretty tough graders.

Can We Talk?

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At the risk of appearing maladjusted, I confess to speaking with the dead. Buried and long absent family members, friends, even old pets are fair game in my book. Sort of like therapists, they don’t respond but they do provide a familiar focus with which to interact. Like old friends, I speak with the dead in order to solve my current problems with the living.

Pretty crazy, huh?

I was encouraged in this form of problem-solving after discovering a wonderful movie called Mother Ghost a few years ago. Classified as a comedy/drama, I discovered a real familiarity with the characters. The way Mark Thompson’s grieving son character would bring a folding chair, sit down next to his mother’s grave, and have some frank conversations with the headstone in the cemetery lawn hit awfully close to home. My conversations tend to be more internal but the essence was there.

Know at end of day that you did the best possible – and so did the person(s) you cared for.

After a gig as a caregiver, there is a lot of personal work left for us to do. Unless you are walking away from all of the change and pretending that it doesn’t exist, which is certainly a choice (though one that I don’t recommend), we all have long conversations with ourselves. Using the dead as props or prompts can be a great help in focusing on the problem/question we are working.

Parts

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Managing ourselves in order to better help others is the main order of business. I (half) joke about ghosts but those memories help us form our present. We grow when we move on from the past. Sometimes the personal work is a free get-out-of-emotional-jail card. We get to resolve old disputes and discover new insights/possibilities.

We get to grow up.

When we get to complete that circle and be the age that a loved one once was when we knew them, we get to understand their decisions from that perspective of age. Seeing the past with older eyes allows light bulbs of understanding to go on and a comfortable acceptance sets in. How cool is that?

Understanding any part of family relationships is worth every bit of work it takes to get there.

Gaining Peace

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How we arrive at the growth and understanding of caring for others is up to us.

Know at end of day that you did the best possible – and so did the person(s) you cared for. There is no winning/right side of a relationship. Most of the results we experience are fuzzy and conflicted. We are sure we could have done a better job… if we could just do it over, however the house rule is that there is no do-over. All we have to work with is now. Our true job is accepting what happened and building. Everyone involved receives full benefit of the doubt.

If you’re still angry at someone (it could even be yourself), you’ve got more work to do.

It is always a less-than-perfect result in our estimation (I told you we were tough graders) but it is the best that Life has to offer us. Accept and discover.

“People you love never die. That is what Omai had said, all those years ago. And he was right. They don’t die. Not completely. They live in your mind, the way they always lived inside you. You keep their light alive. If you remember them well enough, they can still guide you, like the shine of long-extinguished stars could guide ships in unfamiliar waters.”

― Matt Haig

Reconnecting With Parents: Those Long Looks Back

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I once figured that my parents would just become part of my history as I grew older, having learned what I could from them while growing up. It would then be up to me to head out and make my own way in the world.

I was only half right.

Remembering or Pondering?

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The connections to those training sessions early in life remain. As a son, I was subjected to any number of conversations about what it means to be a man. Take responsibility. Be nice to your sisters. Eat your broccoli. The usual.

My attitude at the time was along the lines of wondering when the indoctrination session was due to end, so I could go outside and play. I was not a real attentive audience but Mom and Dad had patience.

Now as I write about this all these years later, I am astounded at how so much of those early interactions keep bubbling back to the surface of my awareness. Writing has always been a therapeutic medium for me. A place to solve old problems, remember important lessons, even talk with people who aren’t there anymore. Journaling has always provoked memories and ideas so I can work through unfinished business.

Always exciting to find sources of insight in these very old conversations. Internally walking through the thoughts and having those conversations by proxy. Discovering the excitement of looking at childhood events with now adult eyes.

Getting older is not what I expected.

Then there is the remembering. Those odd little incidents, forgotten for decades, that suddenly come to mind and shed light upon those old relationships.

Remembering the look on my father’s face the first time I exerted some independence by buying a puppy with my savings after he had said no. Or the warm laughter of my mother when she warned me to get into bed correctly or she would pour water in my ear as I lay across the pillow– and did it when I didn’t cooperate!

Moments that resonate with the adult I grew into. Sharp, clear memories that no one of realized were important at the time. Locations, people, buildings, furniture long since changed or gone.

Nothing beats an “a-ha” moment of clarity when you realize that something you have felt regret over for years suddenly comes into focus when you see that the parent involved was far too human and acting as such. They may have just been having a bad day.

I think this is called letting yourself off the hook.

Funny what turned out to really be important in development of character. Funny what things provide comfort now.

Maybe it is connecting with the impermanence that really makes up Life. Reaching a point where more of my living is viewed in the rear-view mirror than through the windshield.

Caught Myself

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As a Hemingway fan, I have always been enamored of his economy with language. Saying in a phrase what some will do in paragraphs. Beautiful simplicity.

While watching an old movie recently, one of the characters was asked why he was defending his hard-to-love father. The young boy responded simply, “Because he’s my dad.”

I was floored. I had been working through some tough memories of my less-than-perfect father. Trying to resolve my loyalty with the conflicted emotions and this one line of dialogue answered my internal question. I had nothing to feel guilty about because in many ways, I was still just his son.

I wish insights came this easily but I’ve learned that if you leave yourself open to an answer, one may just appear. It’s that letting go business that takes a whole bunch of practice.

Wisdom

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I am close to people my age that claim to have no recollection of growing up or hold the recently departed so very closely, lest they should lose contact with their memories. I don’t always understand these responses, nor do I wish to. All of them have personal work pending and these are just outward expressions of that unfinished work. Mine is not to know but to be there for them when they need.

Which brings me to a little nugget of wisdom to let people live as they want. No one has the answers, though I suspect many of us possess bits and pieces of them. Allowing everyone to follow their own path appears to be the most enlightened approach.

And the maturing person inside of me suspects that there is far less seriousness in all of these lifetimes of permutations than man-made philosophies have allowed for, if only for all of these incidents that just make me smile.

Once a son of my parents, always that son of my parents.

“The older you get, the closer your loves are to the surface.
― Elizabeth Hay

Embracing Letting Go

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Letting go of feelings that hold us to trauma is so stupidly simple to do yet ends up being incredibly difficult to practice. Must be some cosmic rule in play here. Wish I had a copy of the book.

Events that we view as being traumatic, happen to us all of the time. We lose something we would rather have. A valued possession, a particular lifestyle, even a person – all can produce a wondrous emotional response when we lose control of them.

My personally favorite emotion to embrace and not let go of is anger. That holding of feeling close in gives me a sense of control in situations that lack my control. If I can’t feel the feelings I wanted, I’m going to make sure I feel this one.

Sound familiar?

Families for Dummies

Caring for family is full of opportunities to get ticked off. Family members don’t always decide or do things in their best interest – according to me, that is. Can we say “control freak”?

Heck. Just being in a family is usually enough to produce differences of opinion that devolve into grudges of long standing. I have family who are still angry at me for things neither of us remember. Add in some caregiving, with all of those institutions and their bureaucratic frustrations. What’s not to be angry about?

We understand how we end up perceiving frustrations as personal insults is easy. The insidious part is the costs of carrying around that extra emotions. Being angry all of the time produces physiological changes that can come back to bite us later.

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Letting Go 101

As a child of divorce, I had plenty to be angry about. A childhood rudely interrupted. Stuck in the middle ground between struggling parents. Shared custody. Nothing making sense.

So many uncontrollable factors to try and control.

Years down the road, I encountered one of these self-help groups that provided some new age self-actualization techniques while trying to recruit me into what I think is best described as a cult. (Come join us. We can help. Don’t forget to sign up for our advanced classes. Cash, checks and major credit cards accepted.)

One night’s homework assignment was to take a strong memory and forgive everyone involved in it. Easier said than done but I engaged the 25-year-old memory of a parent, emotional baggage and all. Once I had a firm intellectual grip on all of the emotions I associated with events, I let go.

Wow.

The years of connection with memory just dissolved, and so did I for the rest of that evening. I had never experienced such a catharsis before. Attachment to traumatic events was severed. The events did not change but how I chose to respond to them had. Simple but profound.

Forgiving parents, siblings, the world, and myself in the same sitting was a transformative. The proverbial weight was lifted but there was something more. I was changed. I was lighter.

I was growing up.

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Worth the Effort

Letting go is still my go-to self-reflection tool of growth. Claiming ownership to only what belong to me is still a learning process for me. I am still growing. Oddly enough, some family members are put off by the results. Somehow, I should be suffering under the weight of years of guilt and anger – just like them.

There is true power is in saying no thank you to the offer.

Reconnecting with Mom after all those years of estrangement has been priceless. Life is certainly too short to be angry at all of the disappointments that life has in store for us. You’ll miss the point of being here in the first place.

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