Have you ever noticed how in a store or a restaurant you’ll talk to someone who has a baby–or you’ll see an elder sitting alone and you’ll start a conversation? Our “bookends,” I like to call them, have a way of allowing others to open up and say, “Hi!” It’s a good thing, too. As fulfilling as those two times in life can be, they’re also lonely. It felt so good to see my babies wave and a stranger wave back–to see them smile. And it felt so good to see my mom’s face brighten when someone commented on her crazy blue petal hat.
Caregiving meant I spent a lot of time with my mother. A lot. A whole lot. And truth is, we needed each other, but we also needed other people in our lives. Sometimes we got fussy with each other just because there wasn’t anyone else around to break our monotony.
Caregivers find it difficult to maintain friendships. We’re not exactly stellar company. Most of us are sleep deprived and we probably need to complain for a good 15 minutes (just to get all the stress out of our systems) before we can calm down enough to have a casual and uplifting conversation that doesn’t include a diatribe about bowel movements.
Why have we lost our conversational skills? Myopic vision. We can’t see past our own situations. Because folks in pain–physical or emotional–can’t see or feel much past their own all consuming issues. Besides, who wants to talk about adult diapers, ER trips at 2am (for no other reason than for gas…), or the latest update on Medicare? We forget it’s a great big world out there and we’re not the only ones going through crap–and that good things are happening, too.
Caregivers either tend to be sleepy (we nod off at the red light), grumpy (we snap at the bag boy for squishing our potatoes, which who knew they could be squished), or we’re weepy (every commercial–luxury car commercials remind us of what we’re missing even though we’ve never thought about zipping through the streets of Rome Italy at 100 mph).
Our worlds have grown small (unless you count all our new friends at the doctor’s office) and our waistlines have grown wide (can Oreos be considered a vegetable?) Although caregivers might not always be pleasant (talking about myself here) we just need someone who makes us smile, helps us to laugh, and don’t mind if we lean on their shoulder occasionally and ball our eyes out. We also need someone to tell us to STOP our whining, open our eyes and see that planet earth is still spinning and still a pretty snazzy place to be. You know what they say…location, location, location….
I hope you have at least one person who is brave enough to speak the truth into your life and someone who will be there for you–no matter what.
If you don’t have one, then consider reaching out to an online caregiver buddy.
You cn meet them on a caregiving site–Caring.com’s forums, AARP’s chat rooms, or the Alzheimer’s Association boards–all of them have literally hundreds of folks just like you–they’ll get your snarky humor and they’ll get it when you say all you feel like doing is crawling back in the bed. Sometimes a friend is someone who’s a lot like you.
I recently had the honor to peruse the web for the best caregiver stories out there, and I happen to know there are some amazing caregivers who blog, photograph, and share their art and their lives. They open up their curtains so you can peek in. You’ll find stories that echo your own. I hope you’ll check out their stories. http://www.caring.com/articles/best-caregiver-stories-web
Bottom line, the world’s not the big scary place we think it is. We’re all just people bungling around in our own lives. And we’re all a tad lonely.
So break out of your bubble today and give someone a compliment. Take the time to check on someone you haven’t heard from in a while. Play peek a boo with a toddler who’s in line in front of you. Hold the door for an elder–and give them a smile.
Be the first to reach out–and the world will reach back.
You just might make their day.