Post #9
We all know about the "empty nest syndrome," which is a common anguished reaction that parents have after teaching their children to fly, then booting them out of the nest, they suddenly realize that life will seem empty. As a parent, I started to anticipate ahead of the last bird's flight and enrolled in graduate school. However, when we are caring for someone, we don't always know when they will be leaving us. (Immediately you think I'm speaking of death, but I will address that inevitable topic in another blog.) At this time I want to write about sudden--or even not so sudden--moves away from your care into someone else's.
If you've been taking care of someone in your family, the time may come when you need to move them to a facility where they receive professional help. This happens not only in the case of eldercare but also in the lives of those caring for children/adults with a disability or serious illness. In most cases you will still be visiting frequently and will have the authority to give input into your loved one's care or to move them if the situation is not a good fit. So you will still be involved, but not in the same way as before.
You may feel mostly relief at first--after all it's difficult caring for someone 24/7. It probably won't take long, however, for you to miss your daily routine that was centered around the one who is no longer at home, and so you begin to wonder what you should be doing with all this extra time. (Unless, of course, you have a backlog of significant responsibilities that require your immediate attention.) Even if you're busy, you may miss the more frequent contact with your loved one. Or perhaps you feel guilty (or at least sad) that you can no longer meet his/her needs.
If you've been taking care of a person outside of the family, it's likely that someone else is now in charge of your former responsibility. As a foster parent whose daughter/son has been returned to their own home or moved to another foster home, you not only miss them, but you worry that they won't receive quality care. As a caregiver who works in a medical institution, you may be concerned about a change in health care when someone is moved to a new place. If you work with immigrants, they will eventually move out on their own and you're happy that they've started a new life, but worried that they won't be treated fairly.
Worry and anxiety can be crippling for some of us. We get insomnia, headaches, nausea . . . In many cases we have to "suck it up" (major suppression) and keep moving in order to keep up with new (or old) responsibilities. Other times we have too much time and allow our worry to overwhelm us. Of course, we have to find the middle ground. We need a way to voice our worries and calm our mind, so that we can continue to live productive lives. Talking to someone else who has a quiet or understanding spirit might help--a friend or counselor. Meditation, prayer, exercise, massage, hot tub, music, creative activities--all of these are frequently recommended for dealing with stress and anxiety.
Since I was a young teen, I've dealt with my inner worries by writing them down, usually in poetry form. Once I have my feelings on paper, I no longer need to let them roll around in my head where I return to them again and again. The change in my mental state seems to be from reflective analysis. When I write, I take the time to consider exactly how I feel and why, so that I can express it in a concrete form. Identification allows me to discern what I need to do to move on.
There have been times though when things were happening so quickly that I suppressed the sorrow and worry I felt for years. This was especially true when I cared for Central American immigrants in the late 1980s. One would leave and others would come before I had time to take a deep breath. Eventually I had to take a long break, which involved pursuing a new career path teaching English.
Fifteen to twenty years after my work with the Central Americans, I began to reflect on those days spent caring for them and then published a small poetry book on the subject. . (Of course, I would have fared much better emotionally if I'd taken the time to write about the situation during or shortly after its occurrence.)
I'd like to share one of these poems with you. The specific caregiving situation I reflect on here was very brief--only one night, but it left me with a lot of sadness and anxiety.
One Small Visitor
Little girl, you cried most of the night
While I sat on the edge
Of the hide-a-bed and held your hand
or brushed your bangs,
Cooing in my gringa Spanish that "todo va ser bien."
I could not tell you what would happen tomorrow or
Why your mother was in the city jail
Or who would make sure
You would stay safe.
I could only hold you for a night,
And surely the breasts of a white stranger
Were as uncomfortable to you
As the lumpy mattress of my couch.
In the morning I could feed you eggs and milk;
Help you wash,
And wish you all the happiness of my prayers.
They took you as quickly
As you were given. I would never
Be told where you went,
Who you were,
Or whether you and your mother
Found home.
Terri Vaughn
(published in Now and Then, 2008)
If you find yourself full of anxiety over having an empty nest (or over any other stressful caregiving situation), I highly recommend that you write down your thoughts. I've found writing a poem to be even more calming than drinking peppermint tea. (But it might be to your advantage to do both.)
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