“If you face the choice between feeling guilt and resentment, choose the guilt every time.” —Gabor Maté from the book: When the Body Says No, The Cost of Hidden Stress
Merriam-Webster, Guilt: the fact of having committed a breach of conduct especially violating law and involving a penalty
For me: The feeling I get when I’ve done something bad/wrong (my behavior) or what I want to do is bad, wrong, or outside of what others or the culture expects of me.
Merriam-Webster, Resentment: a feeling of indignant displeasure or persistent ill will at something regarded as a wrong, insult, or injury.
For me: This isn’t fair. What have I done to deserve this? (Resentment toward a person, the Universe, or fate.)
Caregiving is a life-altering experience. I know. I cared for both of my parents over a five year period. One, then both simultaneously, then one again. I was 20 years younger, raising a son, managing my own business, and divorced. (My current husband was in the picture and was with us for my dad’s final year, but we were not yet married.) Days after my dad died, the call came that my future mother-in-law needed care and we began again. Classic sandwich generation. I kept it all together, rarely feeling resentful. I anticipated that caregiving for my parents would fall to me and prayed it would never be needed. I just made the choice each day when I got out of bed that I could “do it” and I did with grace most of the time, if not always ease. I was tired, but not exhausted. I asked for and received lots of help.
I never anticipated being in this place again. I thought I had done my karmic caregiver’s duty. Then my incredibly strong, healthy, vibrant, “get ‘er done” type A personality husband got sick. Not just sick, terminally ill with a brain disease that is slowly taking him away. It’s different with a spouse. Massively different. This is NOT what our true love/partnership, encore marriage, semi-retirement years were supposed to look like. He was forced into full retirement. I’ve made the choice to cut back to have time with him and time for me.
You may be taking care of your spouse right now. You may not be experiencing any resentment. Not one moment when you’ve thought, WTF, WHY ME? WHY US? WHY AREN’T THE KIDS, SIBS, fill-in-the-blank HELPING US? After all, you’ve been called to this. You have a purpose, you’ve taken it on. Your spouse needs you. It’s a choice. I get it. Maybe you LOVE caregiving. It’s giving you a purpose. I’m making the same choice. Every day. I love my spouse, but I don’t love caregiving.
Having experienced (a-set-plus-one) parental caregiving and coaching dozens of women individually and in groups, I’ve learned some lessons that I now need to put into practice. Again. I CANNOT do this unless I remember the oxygen mask. It’s about saving me so I can be here for him. I need to recognize when I start to feel drained by caregiving or resentful about the situation and change something.
So where does the guilt come in and why is the discomfort of guilt better than resentment? Some of us (me) feel guilty taking time for ourselves (myself) when the needs of another appear to be more important. Humph.
So we (I) feel resentment at the situation. This sucks. Then I remember: Resentment is like drinking poison and expecting the rat to die. I may think that I only resent the disease or fate. Never do I resent my loved one. It’s still resentment. Ultimately I will resent MYSELF for being hyper-attentive to another and not being attentive to my needs and self-care. This is when I take gulps of resentment poison.
Guilt feels bad for a little while. Resentment festers.
How many people can you name who were caregivers and got sick or died before their loved one for whom they were caring? If you haven’t known at least ONE, you haven’t lived long enough or aren’t paying attention. It’s everywhere. A dramatic case in point: My cardiologist told me that they suddenly had to care for his father-in-law, who had moderate Alzheimer’s disease. His mom-in-law got sick and died within days of her being admitted to the hospital. He shared that had her illness been treated sooner, she may have survived the crisis. She had been covering up for her husband, taking care of everything 24/7, asking for no help. Not even the doctor in the family recognized it. She was so good at perfecting the cover up. Heartbreaking. Maybe she wasn’t a bit resentful. Maybe she just put off going to the doctor. Maybe she was exhausted. She forgot about the oxygen mask rule.
This will not be me. Not exhausted, nor putting off, nor resentful will I be! Don’t let it be you. I am doing the best I can AND that doesn’t mean being a perfect caregiver for my loved one.
My self-care practice while caregiving is ongoing, just as it was before caregiving. Now it’s on steroids. I’m creating self-care moments and days. I’m getting clearer about my priorities. I shifting my perspective when I notice the poisonous resentment gremlin popping its head. I ask myself: “What’s this about?” “What do I need to do for me today?” “Do I need to ask for help?” I may only be able to spend time in my garden or take a walk. I may be able to schedule a lunch date with a friend. I may feel a little guilty not giving every moment to my husband. But I won’t be poisoning my soul with resentment.
I try my best to plan ahead, whether a date for the two of us or a date for me without hubby, even though I know “the best laid plans, etc…” Especially with THIS disease. (As my engineer husband would say often: “Plan and adjust.” It’s become my mantra.) Yesterday, I took myself to Wiawaka on beautiful Lake George. I was home to have a delicious dinner with the love of my life. At this point in our journey, he knows and understands that I need this. Right now, he’s “well enough” for me to leave for part of the day. Me first. Remember the oxygen mask instructions. It’s real.
I felt a little bit guilty as I packed the car with sunscreen, chair, lunch, and my floaty. (Good. Guilt is good. Resentment bad, self-resentment very, very bad.) I returned refreshed, smiling, and ready to enjoy our evening together. My husband was fine. In this moment, all is well.
Thank you for sticking it out to the end. Follow along on this journey with me by signing up to be notified by email when I post. I’ll be sharing more about care for the caregiver and our journey through Lewy Body Dementia and Parkinson’s disease.