Taylor-Leigh
Stepping into my role as a caregiver (& finally accepting it) – a challenging, yet rewarding transition
I am a “normal” person. I look, sound, and act like a normal person. If you were to meet me on the street I’m sure you would have your assumptions about me, as we all have about each other. But I carry the weight of a role I consider to be, not so “normal.”
I am a caregiver.
Of course, many kinds of caregivers exist, from parents and guardians, to CNAs, to pet owners.
But I don’t consider myself to be “normal” as a caregiver for my grandmother, because I look around at the other 20-something year olds I know. They’re working on their careers, starting families, buying houses, traveling the world, enjoying their youth. While I know that each and every individual is on their own journey through life, I can’t help but to compare myself to my peers. Part of me feels that I’m missing out. But the other part wouldn’t change my circumstances for the world.
When I tell people what I do for a living, they say things like, “oh that’s so nice of you,” while others think that it means that I’m mooching off my mom, wasting my life away.
After a year, I’ve only finally started stepping into this role with confidence, realizing that what I do is incredibly important and difficult – mentally, physically, and emotionally.
People don’t value me unless I value myself.
I’ve been in this limbo for over a year, meaning it hasn’t exactly been the cup of tea that my peers assume it is. In fact, most people don’t understand what it’s like – even my close family members. Besides the nonnegotiable tasks, each day is unpredictable, and each month is filled with uncertainty. Will I get to go to this event? Or sleep in tomorrow? Or spend the night here? Do I dare bring up the possibility of a weekend away?
My most comforting solace throughout this time in my life has been hearing about other peoples’ experiences as caregivers. I hope that you may find comfort through my words, knowing that, while each situation is highly individualized and different, I understand, and many other people do too, even if you don’t know what they’re going through when you meet them on the street.
I feel that the main reason why it took me a year to accept my role as a caregiver, is because prior to my grandmother’s events that unfolded, I was ignorant to the world of caregiving.
And I don’t just mean caregiving as a profession, but caregiving as the thing that family members do for each other when one can’t do things for themselves. Many people I come across are ignorant to caregiving simply because they haven’t been exposed to it, but that wasn’t the case for me. In fact, I’ve had more exposure to the elderly than most people my age. I was lucky to know my great grandmother. I spent many hours in nursing homes, visiting my grandpa, volunteering, and visiting my mother at work. I’m thankful that I’ve had my mom as an example, because she is amazing with seniors – inclusive, warm, funny, easy-going.
But I still didn’t know what went on behind the scenes, nor did I consider the fact that many people do not have the means to live in a senior living center (& I mean those places can be CRAZY amounts of money! Not to mention, the ones that aren’t crazy amounts of money don’t offer the best care or standards of living).
Now I look around and realize how many people are past or present caregivers, or require care themselves. According to caregiving.org, family caregivers encompass more than one in five Americans in 2020.
And yet I was blind to it simply because it isn’t talked about enough.
But this needs to change. Although they may be uncomfortable, conversations need to be had surrounding grandparents, parents, other family members, and children old enough to talk about what will happen when so-and-so cannot take care of themselves. Will they move in with someone? Have aids come to the house? Live in a senior community? I know my situation is centered around the elderly, but it can be applied to anyone who may have a disability, or have alternative physical or mental conditions. Plans change as life changes, but at least the conversation is out in the open.
Of course, I am sensitive to the fact that sometimes, life sneaks up on you.
My situation was a shock to me in my mid to late 20’s because as I mentioned before, I felt it caused me to miss out on life. I can’t complain too much, and in fact I don’t like complaining because it doesn’t solve anything. Instead, I talk to my therapist who affirms that my emotions are okay and necessary to be expressed.
I know that I won’t be doing this forever, and I admit that I chose to step up to the plate to help my mother – I knew there was no way that she could take care of my grandmother, a stroke victim, by herself while working a full-time job. I would never have forgiven myself had I just sat by and watched strangers come into the house all the time to care for my grandma, or had she gone to live in a facility that drained her hard earned retirement savings. Not to mention, her stroke kind of came at the most ideal time, in line with the pandemic of 2020.
Honestly, I’ve never spent so much time with my grandma in my life. I’ve really gotten to know her in a different light – different, yet still worthy, valid, joyous, and her. I know I’ll look back on this time and cherish it. And although each day comes with its own tribulations, I’m thankful that I am the one to do it. The little things have taken on a whole new meaning as we celebrate things like grandma moving her fingers, a funny movie on TV, a new recipe for me to cook for her, using the hoyer lift to transfer to the wheelchair, doing her makeup, and so on.
It’s been over a year and I’ve finally settled into my role as a caregiver. For that year I didn’t accept the fact that this was my life, and in fact, at times I resented it.
It feels guilty to have resentment at all, and if you’re in a position similar to mine, you know that guilt is a common feeling. I feel guilty about leaving the house and having someone else care for my grandmother. I feel guilty about having fun, about my ability to walk around and take a shower, and about all of the stress and negative emotions I experience. I even wrote a blog post about how I deal with feeling guilty about feeling good.
At times I cry myself to sleep as I imagine what my grandmother is going through.
And yet other times I feel immense joy that I get to do this. So many people tell me how they wish they could have had more time with their grandparents, and how lucky I am. And I think of myself as a child who wanted to be with her Grammie all the time. All of these emotions are okay, are normal. Emotions evolved for our survival. And I’m learning about being aware of them and how to navigate them in an effective way. While I tried and tried to “stay strong” and deal with my feelings myself, I knew I needed help, so therapy has become my best friend, second to my partner Rudy, who has been my biggest support system through it all.
My journey to acceptance has been a true teacher. I know that life doesn’t start “someday” or after “x” happens. It’s happening now. And the only way to enjoy, to appreciate, to move forward, and even to change, is to accept life as it is.
As we have all learned through 2020, the world is full of uncertainty, and tomorrow is never promised.
So when people ask me what I do for a living?
I care for my grandmother. But I also love to dance, read, write, connect authentically with others, and be active outside.
If anyone has a problem with that, then I feel bad for them. They don’t know what it’s like to feel the gratification that comes with the bravery of being a caregiver. Perhaps they will someday. But until then, I know how important I am.
After all, I am a caregiver.
Here’s Grammie & I! I’m Taylor-Leigh, a multi-passionate person who writes about caregiving & intentional living.