Too Dog-Gone Cute to be Guilty

Let Grace Release the Smile!

Another Perspective....Through the Eyes of the Cared-For

We have been looking at Guilt these last few days from the perspective of the Caregiver.  But Caregivers don't have a monopoly on the trip-taking.  What about the Cared-For?

Yes, the one who is chronically ill, or terminally ill...the one being Cared-For.    

I know mom felt it often...would repeat a common refrain to each of us... I'm so sorry you have to be here... I wish I wasn't taking you away from your families... I hate being a burden...

Guilt.

Right in the middle of our pancreatic cancer journey, an article caught my eye in the Womans Day magazine (we happened to be frequenting doctor offices and hospitals alot about then, plenty of time to catch up on our reading!).  It was titled "Tender Loving Care."  And it shared the story of one families journey, 3 generations and one illness...the elderly mother was the Cared-For.  Her daughter the Caregiver, and her granddaughter the Supporter.   It is so perfectly appropriate to share again, right here... the perspective of the Cared-For...

I am the cared-for

by Phyllis Greene

 

It is better to give than to receive.  We have heard that cliche for so long that we don't really hear it when it's said.  But once you accept that you are old and needy, those words hit you in the face - how you wish you could still be the one who is giving.  I am 91 years old, in bed full-time now, and my heart is giving out.  I am thrice blessed with grown children who give and give to me:  Bob, D.G., and Tim give me care and love and constant devotion.

 

My sons live out of town and visit whenever they can; we are forever on the phone, talking about what's going on with them and with me.  My daughter D.G. lives 15 minutes away and is on daily duty.  She is not only my "designated daughter" or caregiver, but also my rock and my salvation.  Every time she finds a new book at the library for me or buys me flannel nightgowns or chooses a gift for me to give someone who's celebrating an occasion, she does it with a smile.  We have fun together and our bond is strong, made of honesty, trust and mutual admiration.  But - and I know she will protest this - I infringe on her time, on her work, on her life.  And I feel terribly guilty about it.

 

I try in small ways to relieve the guilt - to be the pitcher instead of the catcher - like subscribing to a family cell phone plan for D.G. and me with 500 minutes to talk, of which I use 5.  Can talking on the phone make it easier for her when she can't visit her daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren in California?

 

She visits me every day - at the expense of the rest of her life.  Caught in the vise, in the middle of the family, in the middle of the country, D.G. tends to me needs in Columbus, Ohio, while missing those two adorable grandchildren on the West Coast.  I wish with all my heart that she would get on a plane and go to see them more often.  I promise that I won't fall or get sick(er), as I've done in the past when she's gone away.  Please go, I think.  But what if, despite every precaution, something bad happens?  (Again.)  She will feel worse than ever.  And guiltily, even selfishly, I am relieved when her plane touches down and she is back home, nearby.

 

Living into your 90s is not all it's cracked up to be.  There are down days, when I am lonely and bored.  But there are more good days than bad, days when I look out my bedroom windows and see blue skies smiling at me.  And I can smile back, thinking, Just give me another season, or a season after that, or a season after that...

 

"Every day is a fresh beginning; listen, my soul, to the glad refrain," goes the quote by 19th-century poet Sarah Chauncey Woolsey.  How miraculous, at 91, to still believe you can start anew.  Less a race now, more a hobble, my life retains its luster through the love of friends and family.  Love I can still give heartily.

 

And heartily receive.

 

 

 

 

 

Phyllis Greene and her daughter, D.G. Fulford have written a book about their experiences.  It is called Designated Daughter: The Bonus Years with Mom.

Swarms of Locusts Everywhere....Ugh!

So... Grandma Inga taught me much about Guilt... and we'll get to that in a minute.  But she also taught me much about Living Life Well.  (She was a conflicted woman...as are we all).   She and Grandpa dairy farmed in the rich Wisconsin countryside.  Love for the farm flowed straight from her veins to mine...

 

 

 

 

 

Grandma Inga set us to work with the calves, the chickens and the pony at an early age.  Though, I am really rethinking my red highwater pants and blue jacket selection right now.  Did no one supervise us when we got up in the morning?!

 

Anyway, back to the matter at hand... Guilt.  Which, by the way, I feel none when I think back to those glorious visits to the dairy farm.  Just freedom, fun and chocolate (yes, the chocolate addiction I learned at Grandma Inga's knee as well...she was conflicted but happy).

 

There are a-gazillion books from some really smart people about how to handle Guilt.  Where it comes from... What it looks like... And What to do about it... I am not one of these people.  I am one of the people who is figuring it out one agonizing step at a time.

 

I do very much encourage you to seek out the professionals for a Guilt that is interferring with your joy, your love or your life.  It can be debilitating and I know that some things simply cannot be handled without help...please know that when we become weary in the walk, Grace provides the Aarons and Hurs to hold our hands and walk us through the trials.  It may be a counselor, a friend or a minister...you don't have to handle it alone...

 

In my personal life, I have found that there are basically two kinds of guilt (don't try to look this up in any of the fore-mentioned books, I don't think it's in there...)

 

There's Real Guilt.  That's the kind where you really did something to feel guilty for.  Like rob a bank or cheat on a test or lie to your parents...

 

Then there's the Imaginary Guilt, which of course is the Guilt you make up in your mind.  And is, by definition, not Real.  That would be not spending enough time with your loved one, or not calling your friend back, or eating that second piece of pie. 

 

For me, the Imaginary Guilt is way, way harder to deal with.  It takes over your thoughts and messes with your happiness.  All those what ifs and not enoughs...

 

With Real Guilt, you know exactly what you did wrong.  Usually the police or teacher or your mom will be only to happy to help you figure it out.

 

With Real Guilt, there is an action that can be accounted for.  Actions that can be amended, albeit, not without consequences.  This is the Guilt that brings a humbled child (no matter the age) back to his parent to beg forgiveness... or the husband back to his wife... or the friend back to his comrade...

 

Imaginary Guilt is just so hard to quantify... Really how much time is enough?  How much pie is too much? (Well, ok, that one's easy... like, don't eat the whole pie...)  But the thing is, we lay a self-imposed (imaginary) line in the sand and when we cross it, we're off on a mega (self-indulgent) guilt trip, even though we have literally harmed no one...

 

So, what to do?  Well, if you're me, you do the following...

 

Stop.  Examine the offense.

 

Decide if it's Real Guilt or Imaginary Guilt.

 

If it's Real, do the hard thing and go make amends.  And accept the consequences.

 

If it's Imaginary Guilt, Raise your Head High and Apply Grace to your Heart.  Liberally.  Refuse to live in the land of what if and not enough.

 

And if you, like me, have traveled a thousand guilt trips and mourn the time that was lost while wrestling the anguish... Be of good cheer... 

 

"I, the Lord your God,

will make up for the losses

caused by those swarms

and swarms of locusts

I sent to attack you.

My people, you will eat

until you are satisfied.

Then you will praise me

for the wonderful things

I have done.

Never again will you

be put to shame."

     Joel 2:25-26

    

Living in the Grace Promise to restore the years the locusts have eaten. 

Faithful God.  He knows my Heart. 

There is joy, There is Hope.

There is no more Shame.

 

Graced to be Guilt-free for today.

Tomorrow may find me wrangling yet another one-way ticket off the

Guilt Trip Train,

Thankful still for the Grace to move on and

 

Live Life Well! 

 

The Mother of All Guilt Trips

Grandma Inga was an expert on guilt tripping...

 

4 Generations (Grandma Inga is on the far right)

 

I love this picture...for so many reasons.  It is of course amazing to pull off the 4 generation thing.  But I so love my dazed expression...sandwiched between Grandma Martha and my mom.  What was my 4 year old brain thinking?  Perhaps I was having issues with my Dutch Boy haircut.  Hello?  Is that even attractive?   But I absolutely love Grandma Martha in her apron and then Mom and Grandma Inga with their corsages.  And I know what Grandma Inga was getting ready to say...

 

"The kids have grown so much since I last saw them... I'll never live to see them in kindergarten."

 

She did.

 

Then the lament, "I'll never live to see them graduate from high school."

 

She did.

 

Pulling off a raspy whisper after Grandpa passed, "I know I'll never live to see you all married."

 

She did.

 

And of course a tearful, "I'll never live to see my great-grandchildren."

 

She did.

 

 

 

Grandma Inga surrounded by her 4 grandchildren and 7 great-grandchildren!

 

We all just loved her to pieces, but she had definitely perfected the manipulation by guilt routine.  All I ever needed to learn about guilt, I learned at her knee.

 

And I learned well.  I wallowed in guilt over everything...

 

Guilt that I didn't get up to see her often enough.

 

Guilt when I (over)indulged on that luscious chocolate chip cheesecake. (oh my, it was so worth it!)

 

Guilt that I didn't remember my best friend's birthday (sad, sad face)

 

Guilt that I didn't try hard enough to get that college scholarship.

 

Guilt that I didn't volunteer in the church nursery when the plea went out (I will do a month of penance, just please, not the nursery!)

 

And then when I became a mother...deep breath...my walk with guilt morphed into overdrive...

 

Guilt that I was too strict, too lenient, too tired, too bossy, too much, not enough... And as it turns out, my kids actually survived their mother's inept attempts at raising them (gratitude abounds for a faithful God...and a patient, loving, extremely grounded husband.)

 

So with this track record, are we surprised that Guilt tracked me into my Caregiver journey?

 

I am nothing if not consistent...which would make me happy if it wasn't so depressing!

 

And I'm finding that many, many other Caregivers deal with the same thing.  Guilt over not spending enough time with their loved one.  Then Guilt for not taking better care of their own family.  Guilt for not being able to ease their pain.  Guilt for resenting their new role as Caregiver.  Guilt for missing a new symptom.  Guilt for missing their anniversary.  Guilt for enjoying a day out with friends.

 

Guilt that is serious and Guilt that is ridiculous and Guilt that is so often very misplaced.

 

Guilt, Guilt, Guilt...the list is endless.  And very tiring...  Why do we do this to ourselves?!

 

It is Life UnBalanced.  I'm thinking that we need to get a grip and rattle the cage a little to bring it back on track.  Because Guilt just really hijacks all endeavors to Live Life Well. 

 

Taking some time this week to get to the root of our Guilt and by Grace dig it out.

 

Grandma Inga would be sure to have something to say about that!