Hurricane Sandy reminded many, including me, that we don’t have control over everything that happens in life.  We don’t always have the power to keep bad things from happening.  We like to think we do, but life shows us otherwise.  I was also reminded of how we can choose to look at what’s possible rather than focus on what seems impossible.  To decide to take the best possible care of ourselves.  To be resilient.  Being a resilient person starts with believing in your own potential to face a challenge.  If you’ve faced up to a medical diagnosis, you know what I mean here.  That means focusing not on your powerlessness, in whatever form that takes, but where you do have power, and taking action. 

Life never stays the same.  Sandy reminded me of how comfortable I am in my day-to-day routine.  And how a stressful event can be an opportunity to look at life in a new way.   Refusing to accept uncertainty and change is setting up a battle that is not only unwinnable but unnecessary.  Accepting that life is about change helps you to more clearly see what you do have control over, and to take action. 

I am probably preaching to the choir here, but this is my lesson from Sandy.  Recognize your own ability to solve problems.  Get connected with your support network.  Stay optimistic.  Resilience is power.  And the real power is in your hands! 

One of the lessons that we learn from illness is that life is always changing.  Yet, humans seem to be hard-wired to avoid change.  But because life keeps moving, nothing stays the same forever.  In other words, we aren’t in control of everything that occurs in our lives, even if we think we should be.  Fighting change is like fighting against yourself, and your own potential for growth.  So give up the battle and go with the flow.  Focus on what you do have control over.  Beginning with taking the best possible care of yourself and the people you love.  

Happy Labor Day!  Whether you read these words today or whether you read them some time in the near future... To me, the point of Labor Day is to remind yourself to take a break from all the hard work that you do in life, as well as to give yourself a pat on the back for doing all that hard work.  For caregivers, this has a special meaning.  Now, I understand that your Labor Day may mean a day off from work to do more caregiving. Can you give yourself a little break today?  Along with that pat on the back?  Anybody else that can help you out? 

Some help in getting through the day

Practice compassion.  If you are walking around with a lot of self-blame, chances are you are also directing this blame toward others.  Show some compassion toward yourself.  You’re human.  And other people are, too.  If you can show yourself a lot of self-love, then it becomes easier to let other people be who they are.  

Commit to staying healthy.  Paying attention to your self-care – including diet and exercise.  If you have anything going on in your life that you feel might place you at risk emotionally or physically, consider seeking help from a professional.

Face Forward.  Each and every day, ask yourself: What can I do to make this the best day possible?  Spend time every day showing compassion to yourself and others.  Do something that feeds your mind, your soul, contributes to your physical well-being, or benefits those around you. 

Support

I had a call from someone recently who wanted to join a support group for caregivers.  Unfortunately, she had a time conflict with my group.

But what's important is what I heard in her voice.  She described herself as a middle-aged professional who is self-sufficient, independent, doesn't shy away from challenges.  Or at least, hasn't in the past.  But this was not the voice of a person who feels confident and in-charge.  It was the voice of someone feeling scared, lost, confused.  She went on to say that a sister had been diagnosed with a life-threatening condition and was suddenly needing a lot of support -- physically, emotionally and, at some point, possibly financially.

She had essentially moved from shock to fear, sadness, and anger that her sister's life would never be the same, and her's wouldn't be either.

"I need a lot of help," she said.  "I need support myself."

Admitting that you can't do it on your own is a sign of great bravery.  It is an important first step.  Don't go through this alone!

Patience

Patience.  Of the many things that caregivers need more of, it is patience.  You may feel like your reserve of patience has run out, but you’re doing everything you can to hide it.  You may feel like your reserve is dangerously low, and will soon run out.  Maybe even tomorrow.  It’s hard to be there, day in and day out, over and over, and not have those days when you feel like throwing in the towel, even though you know you can’t and you know you won’t.  Somehow you find it.  It’s only human to feel like you can’t do it much longer, and to just want to holler.  Denying how you feel only leaves you feeling even more drained.  And more impatient.  So take some time for yourself.  Let yourself sit with what a challenge getting through the day can be.  Have a talk with somebody who can listen without judgment while you talk about how what a thankless job caregiving can be, how annoyed and frustrated you feel, how you wish this was somebody else’s job.  Don’t hold back.  Maybe even consider how you might get some help, even if only to give yourself some small breaks here and there to regroup and get back to your center.  Patience begins with yourself.  You are human.  Show yourself some patience.  

Weight of the world

I got up early a couple of weeks ago to reach out into the hallway and grab my newspaper. A couple across the hall, about my age, live in another state but travel back and forth to NYC for her cancer treatment. She has been through a lot, many ups and downs, many new treatments. She is a living legend. It was about 6 a.m. The husband was standing in the hallway, with his back to me, apparently waiting for his wife. He had a couple of suitcases. I assumed they must be leaving. Here's what I saw. I saw a man who is world weary, who is carrying a lot of weight on his shoulders, who is doing everything he can to stay optimistic, to take life one day at a time. I saw a man whose shoulders were a little sloped, a very tired man. I thought about what I should say but everything I thought about saying would have been just words. He must have heard me open my door. And I wondered if maybe he wasn't wanting to hear any words that morning. He was getting on with his life. One day at a time. So I left him alone, but sat down with my coffee, and breathed with him, and shared his pain.