Looking back over my annual “It’s A New Year” Journals from the eight years I cared for my Mother there was a consistent theme:

• This year I will take more time for myself
• This year I will be more patient, tolerant and less critical of others
• I will leave guilt in the year that has just past
• Etc., etc., etc!!!

Skimming a few pages forward it becomes obvious very quickly that it did not take long for the stress of care giving to take hold and my resolutions to go right out the window. One journal entry spoke to my frustration as I watch everyone around me head into the New Year with such hope and excitement. All I could feel was dread, another year of doctor and therapy appointments and feelings of helplessness as I watched my Mom continue to be stuck in her world of post stroke challenges.  But then I read a book by Kay Adams called Journal to the Self and began practicing the techniques.

Soon my journal entries show hope and I begin to turn a corner.  I learned to use my journal to manage my feelings. Gradually I began use these pages as not only a safe place to express my feelings, but a way to manage daily tasks, keep track of my resolutions and check on my progress. Eventually I took back control of my life.  I found that by venting my frustrations and disappointments in my journal I was able to let go of them in a more constructive manner. This led to more patience, tolerance and less judgment of others. Because I wrote through these emotions I began to realize that care giving was what I was doing not who I was and this shift in thinking allowed me to be less than perfect. Soon the guilt began to lessen and I realized that all I could do was my best and if that was not enough then tomorrow was another day. By using my journal to manage tasks I became more organized and found time for self-care. All of these changes made me happier and a better caregiver.  

I was so grateful for the improvement in my life that I became a Certified Instructor of Journal to the Self® and offer the course on my website www.carepartnersresource.com and in person. I hope to improve the lives of care givers one Journal at a time.

For the eight years before her death I was Mom’s caregiver.  The moment I learned about her stroke I decided to take on that role and my identity became “Lori, Caregiver of Lupe the Stroke Survivor.”   I took on this task with all that I had, learning everything I could about stroke. I became Mom’s advocate and her biggest cheerleader.  But losing her left me feeling lost, alone and searching for my identity.

 I had not realized that in the process of loving and caring for mom I had lost myself. I had given up my career as a mortgage broker, I had moved from Colorado to California and back to Colorado. For eight years I had scheduled my days around doctor’s appointments, therapy appointments, daily maintenance of Mom’s care and work.  

Suddenly it was quiet. There was plenty of time, but time for what? How do I fill my days doing anything as fulfilling as how I had spent the past eight years? At times I was not sure I could manage the silence, but then I would here Mom scolding me and telling me to get up and move, the answers will come. So I decided to take a year to focus on myself.

My journey began with my website www.carepartnersresource.com.  This was a project I started two months before Mom’s passing. We were both excited to share all of the tips and information we had learned the hard way with the hope that it will make the next person’s experience easier.  Next I took on a project with National Stroke Association that allows me to follow stroke survivors on their first year of recovery.  In many ways it feels like keeping Mom alive through their stories.

During this year I traveled, spent time with family, reconnect with old friends, painted and spent many hours journaling.  

As I sit here this morning on the anniversary of Mom’s death I feel comfortable in the silence as I write my blog and remember my Mom. I realize that my journey is not complete but I am closer to knowing who I am and what I want than I was a year ago.

Stay tuned as the journey continues……

• no defined term for your tour of duty  
• you are not assigned to your position based on your occupational specialty
•  there is no plan in place to move up the ranks
•  and the biggest difference is usually this duty comes with no financial or medical benefits

My tour began with a phone call late one evening in July, 2001.  I answered the phone and heard my oldest brother saying words that I could not comprehend, “Mom is in the hospital” “She had a bad stroke.” The rest of the night was a blur, calls to my son telling him the news, to the airlines to catch a flight to LA, packing and then heading to the airport. All I knew was my mom’s brain was under attack and she needed me.

In my mind the decision to enlist had been made when I answered the phone. It was my duty to join the ranks and make sure Mom got back on her feet.  I don’t recall knowing who the enemy was: What is a stroke? How long my tour of duty would last: What is the recovery period?  I had no idea what a care partner or care giver was and yet unknowingly I had already enlisted to become one. 

Once I arrived at the hospital basic training began immediately. The meetings with family, the doctors, nurses, therapists and social workers all began. It became clear to me that I needed to advance up the ranks quickly and take on a more active leadership role.  Days later when the bleeding stopped and mom was stabilized the true test of my enlistment became clear. Her life was never going to be the same and neither would mine.

The early stages of care partnering are foggy. I questioned what I had gotten myself into but it was too late to turn back now. I wonder how many young men and women who take the oath to serve our country feel the same overwhelming fear. My enlistment came with duties that I was not sure I could carry out as well as an assignment away from my family and home.

As time went on we celebrated battles that were won and  found new determination to forge ahead when any ground was lost. Mom and I  continued this strategy until my enlistment ended one day short of eight years when mom decided it was time to surrender and she quietly took her final breath while I sat by her side.

I realize that what I saw and dealt with during my tour of duty is different from what our military personnel must endure and in no way compares to what they must see on a battle field. But I too am left with the wounds from combat against the effects of a “brain attack” that took my mom’s independence.  Most family care partners and caregivers like me are left with both mental and physical scares from our time of service.

 I have begun my journey back into the “civilian population” and I am reaching out to other care partners and care givers through my website www.carepartnersresouce.com.  My hope is to heal my battle scares by teaching others the successful strategies I learned during my tour of duty. 

There can become a point when those frustrations can be taken too far and in those cases I urge a caregiver to reach out and seek help. This article is about trespasses that cause mostly harm to the caregiver not our loved one. Moments of shortness of patience, a harsh word or even a selfish thought that we carry deep in our soul reminding us we are not perfect.

I began my journey for sainthood long before I became a care partner. From an early age it was important for me to be the perfect daughter, the best wife and of course the most patient and loving mom.  So when my mother survived her stroke and I made the decision to become her live in caregiver I had the same expectation, PERFECTION.

One might think that it would be logical to allow myself a little slack since my career had been in the mortgage industry not the medical profession and mother needed constant care because of the effects from her stroke or the fact that I had been out of my parent’s home for 26 years and moving home was a huge adjustment. But care giving leaves no time for slack, too much to learn, too much to do and too many opportunities to be less than perfect.

I care gave and care partnered my mother for 8 years and during that time and the four months since her death I am bothered by my own trespasses. The times my patience ran out and I spoke to her in a less than loving voice or when I would get busy doing things around the house and forget to make sure she was fed on time. My biggest regrets are the times I would cut her off when she was trying to tell me something. My mom was unable to speak in sentences after her stroke so we spent a lot of time figuring out what she was trying to say. She said “do do do” thinking she was saying words. During the first few months following her stroke we would spend up to 45 minutes playing 500 questions  only to discover she wanted a piece of lint picked up off the floor.  After a while it all became too much and I began cutting her short.  I would say “okay Mom is there pain, are you hungry?  Okay forget it, we’ll figure it out later, here just watch T.V.”  I think of how difficult it must have been for her going from the matriarch of our family where everything she said was heard with respect to being cut short when she was just trying to make small talk. I feel angry at myself for my lack of patience. I wish that I had been able to settle into my role as a care partner as gracefully as mom was able to adjust to her role as a stroke survivor.

My trespasses as a caregiver were secrets I had carried silently deep inside fearing judgment.  I am telling my secrets in the hope that other care partners and caregivers will see that they are not alone. We are humans not saints and as such we are subject to moments of stress and feelings of being overwhelmed.  Acknowledge your limits, ask for help and take a moment to breath. You will be a better care partner by loving yourself without judgment, guilt benefits no one so forgive your trespasses and move forward.