| kolleen |
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Reply with quote | #1 |
HI Everyone,
I went with mom to her Blood Dr. a few weeks back, (anemia) and while I was waiting for her, I saw this poem on the wall. I have never used the term "it spoke to me", but in this case, it very much did.
Since my mitral valve replacement surgery nearly three years ago, that forced my retirement from a career that I VERY much loved, (Facial Specialist) I have been feeling a bit lost.......AND while I was in the hospital facing impending open heart surgery, my mom wrecked my car, so I was no only 'retired' but 'stuck' as well. Some self pity, but thankfully not too much. There were days, though, when I felt I survived the surgery just so I could set up mom's meds, change her hearing aid batteries, do her hair, listen to her repeat stuff.....really not too bad, but it was enough to depress me for a while. I know I don't have it NEARLY as bad as most, or at least some, of you, but I really was getting 'down' over it for a while.
Then I saw the poem. It was written by an "Unknown" steel worker.
Reasons for Life
I don't know how to say it, but somehow it seems to me
That maybe we are stationed where God wants us to be
That the little place I'm filling is the reason for my birth
and just to do the work I do, He sent me down to earth.
If God had wanted otherwise, I reckon He'd have made
me just a little different, of a worse or better grade.
And since God knows and understands all things of land and sea
I fancy that He placed me here, just where he wanted me.
Sometimes I get to thinking as my labors I review
that I should like a higher place, with greater things to do.
But I come to the conclusion, when the envying is stilled,
that the post to which God sent me, is the post He wanted filled.
So I plod along and struggle in the hope, when day is through,
that I'm really necessary to the things God wants to do.
And there isn't any service I can give, which I should scorn,
For it may be just the reason God allowed that I be born.
SO, when I get feeling frustrated, I remember this, and it helps.
I wanted to share, hoping it might help some of you feel a little less stressed.
Love,
~ k ~
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| | | Original Only Daughter |
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Reply with quote | #2 |
That's a beautiful poem, but it makes me very sad to read it, seeing it through a caregiver's eyes. It says to me that God basically put some of us here on earth to be caregivers and pretty much nothing else. In other words, we were born to take care of someone else and make that person's life the best it can be, even though that caregiving may be bleeding us dry and tearing out our hearts and souls in the process with nothing left of us (our original hopes, personality, interests, loves) after the caregiving ends.
To say to a caregiver stuck in the trenches of a thankless job that goes on day after day with no end in sight that you are where you are supposed to be is just another form of caregiver abuse; and to place those words as coming from God tells the poor caregiver that her life doesn't matter, her dreams do not matter, basically she doesn't matter because all she was born for was to be a caregiver, a drudge, a servant, and God really doesn't see her as a real person with real feelings any more than the rest of the world that constantly looks through and over a caregiver's head and hones right in on the caregivee as being the only one who is important.
If I had read this during the time period I was taking care of my Alzheimer's father in his extremely angry/violent stages, I would have said, "Okay, God. You don't care about me and you don't love me, although I always thought you did. I mean no more to you than I do to my father's doctors, his family members, his friends, and all the other people who only see that he's sick and falling apart but refuse to see what taking care of him is doing to me, my life, my health, my hopes, and my dreams," and I would have walked straight out into a very busy expressway and headway right into the nearest transport truck and tried to kill myself right then and there.
To tell a caregiver that you're in a place because that's where you're supposed to me, especially if that place is hades on earth, is to hold a gun to a broken-hearted, exhausted caregiver's head and pull the trigger.
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| | | sierraseven |
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Reply with quote | #3 |
Oh, I am so torn. Kolleen, I am glad that you found something that gives you comfort. But I have to agree with OOD that I found the concept behind the poem depressing. I know you didn't mean it to convey that the caregiver's life doesn't matter except as a drudge, but that's how it comes across for me, too. Kolleen, I know you meant only good thoughts when you posted this, and I don't want this to come across as a criticism of you. I just don't find the poem comforting at all. |
| | | Maureen |
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Reply with quote | #4 |
What a beautiful poem, it really says alot. I have sat here a few months ago and asked myself that question, what am I really here for? Then I got the call from my Aunt asking for help. And it was then I knew why I am here to help others, that is why the Good Lord put me here. If I can somehow make someone happy for just a second or a full day then I did good.
I for one and going to copy this put it in a frame and hang it on my wall.
Again how Beautiful........
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| | | imho |
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Reply with quote | #5 |
imho, the poem did not speak to me either. It seems self-defeating and kind of like "oh well, I hate my life, or I am unfulfilled, but this must be what God wants for me."
caregiving, for DECADES - (thank you medical science! lol) -- washing urine-soaked sheets, scrubbing urine and feces off of bathroom floors and commodes, trying to juggle an elderly's special diet, meds, numerous doctor appointments, ER trips, and daily/hourly aches and pains -- not exactly what I would call my lot in life. Not for me, anyways.
but if it helps to accept your current role or status, that is fine. But do not give up on life! There is so much more.
imho
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| | | kolleen |
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Reply with quote | #6 |
Good morning all.
I didn't mean to upset anyone with this thread.
I simply said it spoke to 'me'.
It's like any other thread here........some apply to certain people, and some apply to others.
There are so many here that have a hard lot in life.....
lots of folks here are doing really hard work for someone they really love, (Mary E comes to mind...Molly, too) and others who are stuck in some horrid day by day nightmare. Everyone is in a different position.
I, for one, don't even reply to any of the N threads, as I can not identify with the situation.
I believe the reason this poem 'spoke' to me is because I have just about the sweetest mom that even lived. The hardest thing for me in the 'caregiving' situation is the lack of help, or even interest, from my siblings. Mom is not, nor has she even been, the problem here. It is sad for me to see her getting old and feeble. She is 91 and a half, and still just the same sweet lady she always was.
I certainly don't think that anyone in the 'trenches' would feel the same way as I do.
I am also sure if I had a mother who was nasty, selfish, over bearing, cruel, and all of the other things I know many here are dealing with, I wouldn't feel the way I do, at all.
I didn't post this poem to make anyone angry, or to feel worse about what you're doing, or certainly NOT to make you think you should be GRATEFUL for a miserable life.
The poem made me feel better because it tells me that what I am doing for mom is a good thing, and since she VERY much appreciates everything I (we) do, it is nice that I am able to do it. I am certainly NOT giving up on life.
I hope that if the poem isn't something to which you can relate, you will just chock it up to another subject with which you can't identify, and not get upset.
The boards are for support of all kinds.......and I understand that the degree of jobs varies.
I totally agree that life in the trenches is unacceptable. And yet, so many are still doing it.
One can be a caregiver and a LOT of other things. I know that a lot of folks here are not only caregivers, but wives, mothers, job-holders.....contributing members of society. It is possible to be a caregiver ALONG with other things. That needn't be the ONLY identity with which one sees oneself.
Please, let us not get angry.
~ k ~
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| | | goodwillgal |
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Reply with quote | #7 |
kolleen
i got alot out of reading that poem. it reminds me that i am many things to many people & furry companions. we never know how what seemingly insignificant thing we do will effect another. or how much even passing a smile to others can effect someone.
maybe my going very limited contact gives some positive results to the members of my family that prefer to 'look the other way' at the abuse my 'N'mother threw my way.
there are many aspects to everyone... who knows what the big plan is for our being here.
blessings for our contributions to the big plan
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| | | Original Only Daughter |
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Reply with quote | #8 |
Kolleen,
Kolleen, sweetie, I certainly did not mean anything against you when I posted my response to your poem. If it came across that way, I'm very, very sorry. I think you're a great person (and carer), and I would never say anything harsh against you. I've gotten to know you quite well out here on this board over the past few years, and I know you are a wonderful, loving person who is always ready with a kind thought and expressions of concern for others.
I went back and re-read my post of last night to make sure I didn't leave out what I meant to say, which was that I was "reading through a caregiver's eyes," and I'm glad to see that I did have that in the opening of my post. It is a beautiful poem, but I read it through the eyes of someone who watched a decent father turn into a monster who did everything he could to make my caregiving job as difficult and heartbreaking as possible and a family (including my mother sometimes) and boatload of friends who criticized and cross-questioned every decision I made. I read that poem with eyes that saw my own life go to the devil while I lived in an Alzheimer's patient's world and danced with a demon and almost lost my soul from it.
What I meant to say was that if I had taken one of my parents to a doctor visit during the time when I was so burned out, worn out, stressed out, and pulled in so many directions by so many people and receiving no thanks, no assistance, no helpful suggestions but only nasty barbs and off-the-cuff criticism of how to deal with a patient with Alzheimer's disease (when most of these people didn't believe my father had it in the first place because he was still cunning enough he was able to cover it up for short periods of time), I would probably have walked right out of that doctor's office and right out into the street in front of a truck.
During this terrible time, God was my only comfort. I could talk to him at night in my bed when I could not sleep for worrying about the next stage of the disease, whether my mother was going to have another heart attack and wind up back in the hospital for another procedure, what was going to happen to my job if I kept missing work, and all the other things people caregiving a terminal patient with a mother and other family members in total denial of the severity of the circumstances lie awake night after night worrying about. I could talk to God when I couldn't talk to anyone else.
My situation was so horrid I used to have a certain nightmare night after night and wake up shaking and crying. I used to dream I was standing in the middle of a huge field surrounded by all my family, my parents' friends, friends from church, and neighbors. They were all carrying bows and arrows, and one by one they would shoot an arrow into my body. When I would scream in agony from the impact, the shooter would say, "Take that. That was for saying your father has Alzheimer's disease. How could you say that about your dad?" Then another person would let fly an arrow, and when I would cry out, would say, "Take that one too. How dare you consider putting your father in a nursing home. I'll see you dead first." I would fall to the ground at about this point, and another arrow would hit me. I would then hear, "Take that. How can you treat your father this way? How can you lie and tell people he's got that horrible disease? You're a liar. You're a liar."
This nightmare would blast me awake, and I would lie in my bed sobbing and shaking and begging God to help me, to hold my hand through this time, and to carry me through it. I would cry out to God because there was absolutely no one on earth who really would try to understand what I was living with, and it seemed that everyone was against me and blaming me for the situation. When no one in my family would listen and try to understand, God would listen to me. When one of my friends questioned me about the hand marks on my arms or the bruise on my cheek, and I tried to tell them my father was in another rage cycle the night before, that friend would just turn and walk away or have to get off the phone because "the doorbell was ringing." No one wanted to listen, and no one wanted to know what was happening in my family. Just like for many years people looked the other way when they saw a child wearing obvious signs of abuse because they either didn't know what to do or didn't want to get involved, people in my life turned the other way and refused to look me square in the eye. They literally walked out of my life.
God was the only person I could turn to who was always there and would listen. Night after night and month after month, I would go to him at night in my bed with all my pain, anger, and heartbreak, and HE was always there to listen. Sometimes I would actually feel a soft brushing across my cheek like a light feather, and I felt he was actually wiping the tears from my face.
If I had seen that poem during this awful time in my life, I know I would have just given up because God was all I had left at that time. He was the only person who loved me even a little and the only person I could lean on. Seeing that poem would have told me that I had made a mistake because God didn't really care about me like I believed; he only cared that I should keep right on "doing the right thing" and taking care of my parents because that is what I was born to do.
I hope this explains my initial reaction last night when I read that poem. It is a lovely poem, but I interpreted it differently than most people would maybe because I've lived through the caregiving thing but I haven't really gotten over it. I don't think we ever really do, especially those of us who really loved our patient and were so torn up to see what the loved one became along the journey.
Again, Kolleen, please accept my apology if I hurt your feelings because I wouldn't do that for anything. This poem hit me right in the heart last night, and I guess it's not really over for me.
My father will be gone three years in March 2010, but sometimes I swear he's still here. Sometmes I even hear him speak to me when I need help with something. He hasn't in a long, long time, but I haven't really needed any help the last year or so. When I was learning how to use the lawn tractor and mow our huge lawn and the snow blower the first year or so, he would talk to me in my head and guide me. The wonderful thing about this is that he doesn't have Alzheimer's anymore. When he communicates with me, he's my old Daddy and talks to me like he always used to when he was well. Wherever he is now, he's not sick with that horrible disease anymore, and I truly thank God for that.
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| | | koleen |
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Reply with quote | #9 |
Okay, some tears are going to flow here, for sure.
First off, OOD, there is no need for any kind of apology. I feel your pain. I don't identify with your circumstances, but because I care, I feel it.
Now........this is the good part. Bear with me, please.
For about two years, some ladies at church have been asking me if I wanted to join a "Circle". I thought, what the heck is a circle? I am NOT a 'groupie' at all. Never have been..... never going to happen.
But there is this one lady I really like, and she enticed me and I said I would do it, at least once. So, the week before last, I did.
She is very nice...........and I know some of the other ladies who are also very nice, but there were two there, and neither one of them spoke to me, that I do not want to use up even two hours of my time, once a month, sitting in a room with them. If you can't be bothered to speak to me in person, well, I have no use for you.
I will tell the nice lady probably Sunday, that I am not coming back.
Reason I am even saying this is because the topic of that the 'lesson' this season, is "GRACE". And if you "GOOGLE" Grace, it is very enlightening. (Wikipedia has a whole lot)........NO matter what we do, or not, God's grace is with us. Just in the waking up in the morning.
One of the ladies, the one who insulted a very dear friend of mine by saying that the gift she brought to a tea "didn't 'go' with anything' else in her house..well, I can't be bothered. That is not God's Grace, to me.
You all here, though, that's God's Grace. Not because of what you do, but because of why you do it. It is inate in most of us. And it's God's grace that lets us know we are here for each other. Mike Gamble is a Disciple, in that way. He is a 'spreader' of the word, or in this case, the opportunity.
Mike is 'Grace' at work.
Dear OOD,
Hey, go get some Cabana boys, and some wine, and meet us at the place where only love matters.
Grace is the understanding and acceptance of God's gifts to us, every day. The sun.......birds...........all the little things, and sometimes just the little things, as the big things are way more than I can ever know.
Now I am feeling as though I am gifted with a deeper understanding of how things are for others.
Original Only Daughter,
there is no need to apologize. We are sharing our most intimate thougts, and in a safe place.
I am not offended in the least.
I am sorry that things are more difficult for others than they are for me.
I think that God wants us all to be Happy.......and if not GLEEFUL, than at least safe in the knowledge that He is there for us, and no matter what we do, or how difficult it is, that it is going to be okay.
So no worries, OOD.
I hope I didn't say anything that would make you feel as though you needed to apologize.
Feelings are legitimate. We all have them.
Your nightmares were/are horrible. No nightmare is ever a good thing, especially if it makes you relive over and over again a situation where you had no control.
I believe my lesson in Grace, this week, is you being able to write, from your heart, and in a safe place, how you feel. And so much of what you feel is right here. So much pain. SO, maybe that poem was/is helpful after all. 
I don't need those snobs......I have all the wonderful, real and caring people I will most likely ever need, right here.
I told you there would be tears.
much love,
~ k ~
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| | | Original Only Daughter |
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Reply with quote | #10 |
Kolleen,
Okay, now I'm laughing along with crying. Your comment about getting some cabana boys and some wine really hit home right now because -- are you ready for this -- my mother and I are heading to the Caribbean a week from tomorrow for a seven-day cruise. So I will be seeing some cabana boys, and I most certainly will be having some wine because I'm not driving the boat! I may even gift myself with a margarita!
Thanks, Kolleen, for your post. As I said above, you made me laugh and cry. I really needed that laugh today. This has been a terrible week. Last Friday, I came home from work feverish and with the flu and spent most of the weekend in bed. My fever shot back up in the middle of the night Sunday, so I was stuck at home from work on Monday. I did return to work on Tuesday, but I've not felt worth a darn all week. I still have the muscle aches and a touch of the headache, and I'm totally exhausted. When I get sick, I seem to relive everything of the past six or so years with my mom and dad and since his death. I keep it at bay quite well on a normal day, but when I'm sick it's like I just let go of the control and my feelings come rolling back in just like the ocean's tide.
Again, I re-read my post of last night and the one of a while ago, and I'm sure there are those out here on this message board who will not appreciate reading of my experiences during one of the worst times of my life. Just like the two ladies at your church circle (oh, do I know about THEM from personal experience), certain people do not like to have their delicate constitutions offended by hearing the truth of what it's like to go through the Alzheimer's nightmare with a loved one. They like to pretend that it's a worthwhile obligation and a "gift" to be able to take care of one such as my father, and they are quick to rebuke one such as I who found that road not a blessing to behold but a trial. People like your two church ladies are very quick to look upon someone like myself as an ungrateful daughter for not loving every moment of my caregiving. These ladies live in a daydream world where the real world doesn't enter, and they also daydream about how wonderful it will be for which of their own adult children get stuck with the unfortunate job of taking care of them when the time comes. Of course, in their minds this job of caregiving for them will be a time their adult child will treasure for the rest of his or her life.
I met plenty of your church ladies at -- of all places -- Alzheimer's support groups. I heard all their kindly chirping about what a joy it was to take care of an elderly parent, even one with dementia or Parkinson's, and that God never puts anything on you that you can't handle. My thought of a support group was just that; it was there to offer support. When I was brutally honest and cried about what was happening to my father and how much it hurt me to watch it, they would tsk, tsk, tsk at me and tell me that I was doing and living God's will. Needless to say, one or two visits at those particular support groups, and I never returned.
Thanks, Kolleen, for seeing beyond my words and feeling my thoughts and the pain I carry every day. Life is better now, but I will truly never be the same person I was before Alzheimer's blasted its way into my life.
I am using my experience to help others though, and that does help me a bit. It seems like I'm constantly running into old friends or neighbors who are experiencing the same things I have been, such as one woman I work with who will be placing her mother in a nursing home this weekend because of Alzheimer's disease. The husband of a couple who were very good friends of my parents had to place his wife in a nursing home because of dementia about six months ago. Where he and his wife used to get together with my mom and dad for activities and donuts occasionally, he now visits my mother at our house for donuts and coffee. He is hurting terribly over this situation with his wife, and my mother is helping him through; she is just letting him talk it all out and listens, which is what would have been so good for her if she would have had someone who had been through it who would just listen to her grieve and help her when she was so confused.
Again, thanks, Kolleen, for your kind words. I'll think of your cabana boys next week, and maybe one of them will be pretty hot!
Maybe God is using me
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| | | kolleen |
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Reply with quote | #11 |
Oh DOO,
I just replied to you a long letter, and somehow it was deleted.
Anyway,
There is no need for apologies.
This thread has been helping me to 'sit down' and listen to others.
I wrote all about when I drove transporation for an Adult Day Care facility in S. Fla. when we first moved there. I was waiting for my cosmetology license.
I have a music background. Singing, piano, some accordian, even. LOL at that.....but whatever........
well, this one tall and handsome guy was a regular passenger, and one day I was just humming....
and he started humming along with me.
Mind you, this man didn't know what he had for breakfast that morning, but he knew the music.
From that day on, he and I sang so many songs......
good stuff, too.
"Indian Love Call"...
I only learned recently that music is the last thing to leave the mind. For me, there is no life without music.
I am thinking that the ladies in church, at least in the Circle, would not only not identify with this, but wouldn't care at all. Mostly the "work" they have had done.
I do know your pain. I don't identify with it, but I understand.
Not first hand, for sure, and I am grateful for that. But I do know it.
In that same facility was a tall and very handsome and distinquished black minister. I only mention that he was black because he was regal, in the sense that DR. King was regal.
His wife would bring him to the facility every morning on her way to her work. I think she was an attorney.
She drove him there in a big car........perpaps a Lincoln.
One day as I was coming back for my second group of people to take home, the "head" of the facility, or whatever he was, was outside on the lawn, with a hose, hosing this dignified man off, as he had messed himself so badly inside the building that this was the only way to take care of it.
I cried that night for that man, and his family, and prayed that it would never happen to me.
SO far it has not. I am blessed.
This is Grace.
~ k ~
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| | | Sparkle |
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Reply with quote | #12 |
What a wonderful thread of understanding and feeling someone else's pain. I can really, really relate to both sides of this.
The 3 1/2 years that I took care of my mom, after my dad died unexpectedly from complications of triple by-pass (specifically horrible hospital-acquired infections) were a paradox. In a way, it was the best of times, and the worst of times, as they say. I did feel that there was a great deal of bonding that never would have occurred in any other circumstances, because we were thrown together in order for her to survive, and we learned to lean on each other, and to be companions of a sort. In some ways, I will always treasure that painful time.
On the other hand, I have never felt more exhausted, emotionally worn out, and physically burned out. I have never felt closer to the brink of death. I have never felt so discouraged.
At times, I too thought this was what I must be here for, while resenting that my own life was being swallowed up in a sea of doctor's appointments, ER visits, incontinence, heavy lifting, nursing home rehab visits, continual crisis situations, difficult life decisions, surgeries, and problem after problem, to the point that I feared for my life.
I think the answer may be somewhere in the middle.
We are able to be a blessing to those we love for as long as we can do so. But the problem is that many of us are forced into situations that go far beyond what we are capable of. We lose our joy, and even our desire to face another day. My mom is an N, and I have never received much nurturing, or empathy of any kind from her, but boy did I provide all that and more for her. I just wanted someone, anyone, to hear my story, and understand. Like you, Only Daughter, I found that God was the only one that did, as He was the only one present when she emotionally abused me, and expected more than I could give. He was the only one who saw the many nights I cried after being with her, and felt like I was going to have a nervous breakdown or physical collapse.
I know that I had a compassion and love for her during those years that had to be God loving her through me, as I could not have loved her that way, and been that patient on my own. I gave all I could. And I honestly think during that time, it was part of the plan. But the time came when she fell over and over (refused to use her walker), broke her foot, leg, and hip. Surgery followed, and she developed moderate dementia, and now most probably Alzheimer's, and if she was difficult before, all her inhibitions that kept some manners in place were now completely gone. The mean in her got meaner. And I could not go another step. The dance was over. But everyone in my family wanted me to keep dancing, but the music had stopped for me. I knew that in a month or two, I would be dead from a stroke, heart attack, or other event. But no one else (except my husband) got it. They were happy for me to dance until I died.
I believe that is when my mom and my brother should have thought about my well-being, instead of their own. But they are both Ns, and as long as I would keep dancing, they would surely let me, until I lost everything and everyone in my family...simply because I could not go on.
So, I understand Kolleen's perspective-the greatest ministry we will ever have will be to our family. To love and care for them, and to be compassionate and kind. There are many great blessings in that. We just have to look for them. Greater than those who achieve supposedly so much more, but don't walk in love and kindness.
But I also understand Only Daughter. When no one even wants to face the reality of the situation, and so called loved ones call you names because you can't physically or emotionally do anymore, it is no longer our purpose to give until we die. Each one of us knows our limitations, and many of us here have gone way beyond them.
To have a mother like you describe Kolleen is so wonderful. What a sweetheart! Give her a hug for me. What a joy to love and be loved by her, and to be able to enjoy her company. Even when the care is difficult, the rewards must be so great.
But for others of us, we long for one moment to call our own, time to spend with our immediate family, time to find our place in this world. We watch the years flying by, and sometimes the best years of our lives are swallowed up in the overwhelming hell of what has become an existence that we can't escape. Trying to please someone who can't be pleased. And enduring emotional abuse as well.
So there are 2 sides to the caregiving story. And as you say, it is so good to be reminded that there are some silver linings in every cloud, but there should also be boundaries to how much one person can endure. When parents have to be declared incompetent in order for us to have any say, that is not right. When they can no longer care for themselves, and we can no longer care for them, without destroying our own health, sanity, and life, something has to give. There is no sainthood in misery for the sake of misery. And as you say, Kolleen, so often it is the ones in the distance who call all the plays, and criticize, and tell you what to do, always from the sidelines, but never in the game. (Like those 2 know it all ladies.)
Don't you all long for the day when we let each person decide what they are capable of, and quit judging? Every situation here is different. We are all different-with unique health situations, family situations, and past relationship situations.
For those who find joy and a life purpose in the caregiving relationship (as I did for a season) more power to you! You are doing a wonderful thing. And for those who find nothing but heartbreak, may you find a way of escape, so that you can live your life and find your purpose as well.
I appreciate each unique situation here, and feel that we have so much to share with each other. What a wonderful thread to be able to be honest about our feelings, and still walk in love and respect for each other, while desperately trying to find our own way. Much Love-Sparkle
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| | | NGA |
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Reply with quote | #13 |
Kolleen,
When I read the poem I had exactly the same reaction as OOD, that if the only reason God put me on earth was to care for my parents then he could never have loved me at all, which takes me to a really horrible thought that he loved/loves my parents beyond all reason.
Toiling for someone who has demonstrated the highest love and regard for you throughout your life is not the same as taking care of a parent who has demonstrated from the time you were small that she would throw you in under the bus if she had to choose between the two of you. I wish the poem had addressed the character of the cared for in its lines then it would be less painful to read.
My Nmom will be 90 this week and this poem reminded me that I am facing the ordeal of the cards, the tortuous hunt for a card that doesn't make me want to vomit. (Prodigal wrote poignantly about this on another thread) It is difficult to find one that that isn't so sweet that I could get cavities just by reading or is so hyperbolic that I can only assume the world thinks all mothers are altruistic, caring, wise individuals- sizes that never fit my mother. It is not fun, feeling that you are not part of society's maternal, love fest decade after decade.
"You know it is easy to love the lovable, God wants you to love the unlovable. That's how you get grace." When my mother says this to me I shiver, thinking that in the hands of an N, God's word is like a taser, both stunning and controlling. Frankly, I don't believe this is how you acquire grace, I think it is the way to get ulcers or a stroke.
That said, I am grateful for this thread, because it fostered a meaningful dialogue in the cyber world that I have yet to hear at any real life, caregiver support group, so thank you, Kolleen, (I know you are a gem btw) for posting the poem. And thank you, OOD and Sparkle for your cogent and thoughtful posts, which spoke to my aching heart.
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| | | 2nd kathy |
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Reply with quote | #14 |
Thank you Kolleen. Your post was comforting. If I may...my take on all of this is that we are 'allowed' to experience what we do, all the hurtful and hard things even, in order for us to better understand, first hand and that in that 'education' we are better equipped to do the larger things in our journey.
1 example...when my husband and I first moved to this state we were raising 6 children. The father of my first three (my ex) owed me many thousands in child support and I had no luck collecting even thought he had a very well paying job. We struggled to feed everybody and my husband worked 70 to 80 hours a week to do what he had to do to keep a roof over our heads.
We decided we needed a little spiritual encouragement and went to a meeting of Christian businessman and their wives. We purposely did not go early to enjoy the dinner part because we could not afford it. We found seats with several older women who were gracious and friendly but they did not have a clue. They were older southern belles who for all their civic volunteering did not recognize that people sitting right within your midst could be hurting or hungry.
They talked about what their 'project' would be for the 'season' but they did not recognize what they had never experienced. I do not hold it against them. I am just commenting on how everything can be used to help you grow.
We, because of our struggles, are better equipped to recognize and help people in our or similar situations.
My favorite quote is from "Prisoner in the Third Cell.'
"It has been said that it is impossible to forgive a man who deliberatley hurts you for the sole purpose of destroying you or lowering you. If this be true, you have but one hope: to see this unfair hurt as coming by the permission of God for the purpose of lifting your stature above that place where formerly you stood."
Now all caregiving does not fall into that category but I, though not always happily or graciously and not without complaining LOL, always held to the hope that God had some purpose.. as blind as I was to it for so long, that would be used to change me in some positive way.
If that doesn't resonate with you, remember the theme song played at the beginning of the sitcom 'Roseanne'....what doesn't kill us makes us stronger...which actually is a famous quote in itself. It's small comfort during the tenure of caregiving but it does resonate once your mission is complete.
God Bless us all as individuals and what each needs to support them another day.
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| | | sierraseven |
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Reply with quote | #15 |
Kolleen, I was not angry or hurt - and I hope I didn't hurt your feelings with what I said. I can understand why you would like the poem, but I just wanted to say that I saw OOD's point of view more to be my feelings. Anyway, no offense meant, and none taken - I know you posted it to help those that it could help.
OOD, Sparkle, NGA, so much of what you say is just what I would say, but you express it so well. I have been lucky so far with Dad being in better shape than a lot of the elders, and he is (almost) never childish or sulky. We're getting some evaluations done now on his neurological problems - I am not optimistic about the future. I will soon, I know, be in the shoes of those who have to provide total care for an elder.
Someone was talking about trying to find a birthday card they could give without feeling ill - I am looking for a site I once saw, with satirical cards you would just love to give to those who deserve them. If I can find it, I will post. I laughed myself silly when I read them before. |
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