Tonight's picture was taken in June of 2009. Mattie was in the hospital recovering from his sternotomy. The little R2D2 Star Wars figure you see in front of Mattie was given to him by his lung surgeon (I have it still!). This was an incredible doctor, who was not only extremely competent, but very compassionate and cared about his patients. SO MUCH so that we NEVER saw a resident. He personally visited Mattie post-surgery.
By the time Mattie needed lung surgery, Peter and I were skilled at understanding the hospital system. So we told this surgeon we wanted a pre-surgical meeting with the team. Ensuring that everyone was on the same page about the surgery and most importantly recovery! Though this surgeon never had such pre-meetings before, he complied and organized one. After the meeting was over, he thanked us for having the meeting and understood why it was vital for our family. Do you know that even now, this surgeon is a yearly Mattie Miracle contributor?!
Quote of the day: Self-compassion is simply giving the same kindness to ourselves that we would give to others. ~ Christopher Germer
Tonight's quote resonates with me, particularly because I am very hard on myself. If I have a negative thought or feel angry, I interpret this as something is wrong with me. As if I am not entitled to these feelings and that I have to snap out of it. However, then I stop and think to myself..... how would someone else in my same position feel? I truly believe that most people doing what I do day in and day out would have cracked up by now. As I am not just providing care to my dad, I am caring for my mom, Sunny with cancer, this large house, and trying to run a Foundation.
My parents occupy my every breathing hour. Today my mom made an appointment to meet up with a former student of mine. I would love for my mom to jump into the car herself, get to the meeting, and be able to have this connection without my involvement. But those days have long passed, and my involvement is now necessary. For those of you who know me well, I would imagine I am viewed as a listener who absorbs what people say and therefore am there to help and support. I believe this is how people have experienced me so when they meet with me now, for consistency sake, they most likely expect the same person. Certainly I can be this person, but now listening, emoting, and providing feedback takes energy. Energy I no longer have to expend. Instead now I need to be the talker, to be heard, not lectured to, but provided the outlet to be understood and supported.
When I am around others who tell me about their full lives, what they are accomplishing, and where they are going, I am happy for them on one hand and on the other, I think to myself..... what has become of my life? I have spent most of my adult life either caring for someone or dealing with a crisis. I have nothing to talk about now that is "normal." My life is filled with tracking bowel movements, helping with all activities of daily living, dolling out medication, and providing structure, routine, and stability to two older adults. I am not saying this isn't an important job, as I know it is, but at the same time, I once again realize that most people can't relate to what I am doing, nor would want to. Therefore, this limits conversation and makes my life very isolating. This place of isolation is one I am quite familiar with and ironically I spent so many years after Mattie died, trying to re-stabilize. Whatever work I have done, I feel like I am back to square one and despite re-arranging my life for my parents, I find that nothing is ever good enough and someone is always unhappy.
No comments:
Post a Comment